Scorched

to conjure up a full-color torturous play-by-play of that day.

The day he’d killed his father.

He’d told Trinity he was here to save the world. But that wasn’t the whole truth. He wanted to save his father.

“I’ll do whatever it takes, Dad,” he whispered.

“Whatever what takes?”

Connor looked up. The bathroom door at the far end of the room squeaked opened and Trinity’s grandfather stepped out, buckling his belt as he limped back over to the motel television, palming the remote and increasing the already near-deafening volume. He’d been glued to the set since they’d arrived in New Mexico a few hours before—the last location Connor had felt Trinity’s spark before it had sputtered out.

“Nothing,” he said quickly, sitting up in bed. The last thing he wanted to do was talk about his father’s death—or hear the comforting rationalizations that were bound to follow. That it wasn’t his fault, that there was nothing he could have done. It wasn’t true. And it didn’t make him feel any better either.

He sighed. What a mess this all was. If only he’d woken Trinity up when he and her grandfather had first returned to her mother’s house the night of the Reckoning. Everything would be different now. They’d have the egg. They’d be on their way to the volcano to destroy it. Mission practically accomplished.

But he hadn’t. Mainly because she’d looked so exhausted. So dead to the world. And once again, the soft spot he had for her had botched his common sense. And so, instead of waking her and bringing her downstairs where he could keep an eye on her all night, he’d let her sleep alone. It wasn’t until he heard the banging on the rooftop a few hours later that he realized something was wrong. Unfortunately, by the time he’d reached her room, she was already on the back of his brother’s motorcycle, zooming into the night.

God, he’d been such a fool. He’d had the egg. He’d had the girl. His whole mission practically wrapped up in a Christmas bow. And yet he’d screwed it all up, underestimated his brother, and let it all slip through his fingers.

His father would be so disappointed.

I’m sorry, Dad, he thought. I won’t let you down again.

His thoughts were interrupted by the television, blaring some kind of news broadcast at top volume. Trinity’s grandpa, Connor realized, must be going a bit deaf.

“Could you please turn that—” he started to beg, but his mouth snapped closed as his eyes caught the video on the screen: black-and-white surveillance tape of a small convenience store. Two very familiar people walking up to the cash register.

Connor dove off the bed, joining Grandpa in front of the TV. He stared, mouth gaping. Could it really be?

“Suspected terrorist Trinity Foxx was last seen at a Santa Rosa Circle K,” the announcer informed them. “She and her unidentified partner purchased food and drinks, and then took off in a green Ford pickup, according to witnesses. Anyone with information on the pair’s whereabouts should call the Crime Stoppers’ hotline. Police warn not to approach them; they are considered armed and dangerous.”

Connor watched as the tape looped, his stomach swimming with nausea. On the screen, Trinity turned to his brother, poking him playfully in the ribs before setting her snacks down on the counter. The two of them started to laugh.

“What are they doing?” her grandpa cried, furrowing his bushy gray eyebrows. “I thought you said he’d kidnapped her.” He turned to Connor, his eyes filled with accusation.

Connor shrugged helplessly, still staring at the TV in horror. All this time he’d been so sure Trinity must have been tricked, taken against her will. But looking at the video made him wonder. His brother had always been charming—could he have convinced her somehow that he was out for her own best interests? That Connor was the bad guy, not him? Or was it the dragon bond itself? Poisoning her mind against him more and more each day. He shuddered at the thought.

At least that explained why he’d lost her signal. He’d been following her spark, reaching out to her through the back door he’d created in her mind when he’d shown her the vision of the Scorch. But as of yesterday, he’d found himself at an impasse, her mind blocked against him. Caleb must have shown her how to shield herself, which would make it nearly impossible to find her.

“Santa Rosa, New Mexico.” Connor glanced over to see Trinity’s grandpa consulting an old-fashioned paper map. The man looked up. “It’s not even fifty miles from here. Let’s head out.” He rose to his feet, his eyes shining with eager desperation.

Connor sighed, feeling old and defeated. He wanted to tell the man it would do no good. That they could follow them to the ends of the earth, but they’d always remain one step behind as long she kept herself blocked to him. If she didn’t want to be found…

“Are you coming?” her grandfather asked, hovering at the open door.

He reluctantly rose to his feet, resigning himself to the fool’s mission. At least it would make her grandfather feel better. To feel like he was doing something instead of just sitting around uselessly, waiting for news.

They’re quite a pair, he thought as he followed Trin’s guardian to his parked car. So devoted to one another. Ready to risk everything to keep one another safe. He tried to imagine what it must be like to have someone like that in his life. Someone who cared more about him than even the end of the world.

Of course, his father had once. And he’d died because of it.

He firmed his resolve. In the end, nothing had changed. His mission was still on, still vitally important to the survival of the world. And if Trinity didn’t believe him? If she refused to go along with the plan they’d made? Well, that made her his enemy. Just like his brother.

Don’t give up on her, Connor.

He started at the sudden thought slamming into his brain. No, not just a thought—a push. A powerful push. So strong that even he, with all his training, had to fight to keep it from lodging into his consciousness. He looked around, wondering where on Earth it could have come from. After all there were no—

He stopped short, catching Trinity’s grandpa squeezing his eyes shut, as if he were in sudden pain.

“Did you…um…say something?” Connor stammered, searching his deeply lined face.

The old man’s eyes snapped back to the road, but not before Connor caught a flash of guilt cross his face.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered. “Now, are you ready to go or what?”

But you do, Connor thought excitedly. You know exactly what I’m talking about.

Aloud he said, “Yes, I’m ready. Let’s go.”

Her grandfather grunted and pulled out of the parking lot, the car’s tires screeching as he turned onto the street. As they drove down the road, toward Trin’s last known whereabouts, the sharp push came again.

She’s worth fighting for. She’s worth everything.

Chapter Twenty-Four

If you’d asked Trinity what she thought Dracken Headquarters would look like, she probably would have guessed like something out of a sci-fi movie—deep in the desert with watchtowers and electric fences, maybe a few landmines littered along the way. Not to mention the requisite men with machine guns, high-tech security gates—all the stuff that was supposed to go along with any self-respecting top-secret military operation. So she was quite surprised when Caleb directed her to pull off the highway and into the parking lot of a seemingly abandoned shopping mall instead.

“We’re here,” he announced, gesturing for her to stop the truck and put it into park. “Home sweet home at long last.”

“Um.” She looked around doubtfully. “This is it? This is Dracken