Jason's mind scrambled to find the meaning hidden behind those four words. Do not go home. It didn't say don't come home, which would have still been confusing but less alarming. No. It said don't go home, which told him one frighteningly clear thing.

His parents weren't at home either.

"You're reading too much into this," he muttered. There was no reason for his parents to get out this late at night, and there was one good reason not to: Ana.

Jason's thirteen-year-old sister was like water—still in the calm, wild in a storm, and easy to disturb. Jason might not be as experienced at taking care of her as his dad was, but even he knew that dragging her out of the house in the middle of the night was a bad idea. There's no way they had all up and left.

The words on his phone stared back at him though, refusing to waver in substance or meaning. Do not go home.

Jason pushed off the wall and hit the call button. It picked up on the first ring. "Jason?"

"Mom." He pushed out of the house, the loud music muting to a dull thud. The cool night air rustled over his hair and carried the quiet calls of crickets. "What's going on?"

"Where are you?" Her voice was sharper than he was used to, but she sounded more worried than angry.

"I—" He bit his tongue to cut off the lie forming there. "At a party," he admitted.

"So you're safe?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Thank goodness," she sighed. In the background, Jason could make out her telling someone else, "He's safe."

Her odd behavior set a tingling to the nape of his neck. "Why did you say I can't home?"

"Where are you? We're coming to get you."

"One of my classmate's houses."

"Where?" she demanded.

He gave her the address, and she repeated it to someone else.

"Mom, you're worrying me."

"Good." Her flat sincerity startled him; the anger pulsing beneath it startled him more. It wasn't overblown or exasperated. It was deep and real, like a scar. "You were supposed to be home hours ago." As she fell silent, his dad's voice rose in the background, but Jason couldn't make out the words.

"We can't talk right now, Jason," Mom clipped. "Be ready to leave as soon as we get there." The end-call tone beeped in his ear.

Nervous fingers found the zipper to his hoodie and pulled it up. With nothing else to do, Jason waited at the end of the driveway, feet rocking against the pavement. Best case scenario, this was an elaborate set-up for a massive guilt trip. Jason's racing nerves tried to sell him the excuse, but he knew better than to buy it. Telling someone what they want to hear is the quickest way to trick them, and the easiest person to trick is yourself.

What he wanted to hear was that everything was really okay. And something obviously wasn't.

After only a couple minutes, their SUV pulled quickly and quietly around the curb. It stopped in front of Jason. As soon as he slid in, his dad took off, not waiting for the door to close.

"Whoa!" Jason called, but his parents were busy talking between themselves and didn't respond.

On the opposite side of the car from him sat Ana, arms folded across her thin frame. Long black hair shrouded her face, but he could read her fear in the way she pressed against the door, as though trying to hide inside it.

Jason buckled himself into the middle seat and wrapped one arm around her shoulders. She looked up at him as if noticing him for the first time, dark eyes wide and worried. He offered her a smile he had no faith in, but she seemed to. Wordlessly as ever, she abandoned her door to lean against him.

"What's going on?" he asked. His voice stayed calm for Ana's sake, but frustration and fear mixed in his mind, a product of insufficient information and repeatedly dodged questions.

The pattern didn't seem to be letting up. "Not now," Mom said. She had the GPS up on her phone and went back to quietly arguing with his dad. "Look, we need to take 64 south."

"And get stuck in the tunnel?" he said. "No. We want back roads."

"It'll take us longer."

"It won't leave us trapped."

Mom's finger tapped and scrolled on the screen. "Fine. Head toward Wythe Creek. We can get onto Victory and make our way northwest."

Jason had only been in Hampton for ten months, but as he listened to their route, his mind put together a frighteningly clear image: one that led straight out of the city. He craned for a look around the car, expecting boxes in the trunk. Instead, all that was at his feet were two small duffels and a backpack. Anger flared in his chest. "Where are we going?"

No matter how often they had moved, they had never left a town this quickly, and they'd never left with so little. Everything that was his—the very, very few things he'd managed to keep with him during a lifetime of travel—that was all at the house, and they were leaving it behind.

His parents didn't answer.

The fear and frustration surged higher. His parents' wills were iron-clad, and once they set a course, they kept it. But that didn't stop him from trying to needle them. "I don't suppose we got the deposit back then."

"Hush," his mom said, as if he was a child tugging on her sleeve one too many times. His jaw clenched.

Suburban houses flew by, their windows dark while their occupants slept. The difference between those oblivious families and Jason's, fleeing like a group of convicts in the middle of the night, made him swallow harshly. In the distance, helicopter blades whirred, and next to him, Ana shivered. He rubbed his hand up and down her arm, but she stayed taut as a wire. A smoldering flame lit in Jason, thinking that she could be in bed right now instead of bundled up in this car, scared.

After several hushed minutes, Dad's lips curled ruefully. "I should have let you drive, Jessica. I can't focus on their transmissions and the road at the same time." His head shook. "I'm out of practice."

Transmissions? The car was silent.

His mom nodded, all business. "Switch me."

Cold shock filled Jason as his dad engaged the cruise control and gave the wheel to Mom. She unbuckled, standing as much as the vehicle would allow, and Dad lifted himself behind her into the passenger seat. Leaning over, she took his spot. It happened in the space of a second, a strangely well-oiled maneuver.

The helicopter was getting louder. Or was it helicopters? The sound seemed to be coming from multiple directions. Jason twisted to look out the back window, but the night sky was all clouds.

They came to an intersection. "Left, Jess," his dad said. "They're trying to cut us off."

Mom made the turn as sirens sounded in the distance. "Sloppy," she muttered, and Jason's ears perked at the half-distracted tone in her voice.

"Sloppy how?" His own voice was quick, sharp, curious. If he caught her off guard, maybe this time she'd give him a straight answer.

She flicked a glance at him in the rearview mirror, as though just now remembering her children were still in the backseat. "Their sirens let us know where they are and adjust our course. They shouldn't have lit up so soon."

"Not like I don't know which way they're going anyway," Dad muttered.

"You wouldn't if they'd maintain radio silence."

Jason stalled, stunned by his mother's casual expertise, by his dad's flippant criticism. But his mom seemed willing to talk now, and the full reality still hadn't hit him—this was his family, in their SUV, not a gang of criminals in their getaway car. His voice stayed steady as he asked, "So. Who's chasing us?"

Jason's mom glanced at his dad, as if he might answer the question for her. But his eyes were closed, mouth set in concentration. Her head cut back to the road, and she paused as though to collect her words. While she opened her mouth to speak, the car drove into a tunnel of lush green trees, cutting off the light of the moon.

She bit her lip suddenly, as if changing her mind. "The less you know, the safer you are." It had the ring of a memorized mantra, a heaviness clinging to it. Her hands tightened on the wheel.

"No." Dad opened his eyes. "They need to know."

Mom's brow crinkled. "We've always said—"

"Jess." He shook his head, and her face fell.

"Oh." Resignation flattened her tone. Jason leaned forward, as if that would help him catch everything he was missing as it passed between them. "How long?"

"Two minutes, tops. Probably one." He winced, then put his hand to his head, eyes closed again.

"Alright then." Though her voice wavered a bit, she nodded smartly. Her words picked up tempo, gaining a businesslike gloss. "Jason. There's a man named Sam Wiles, W-I-L-E-S. Find him. He can help you. Last I heard, he was in New York, in a neighborhood called Sunset Park, in the Greenglass Apartments. Repeat that back to me."

Jason stared at her, brow drawn, still analyzing what might have initiated the sudden shift in the conversation's intensity.

"Jason! Pay attention. This could save your life. Repeat it back."

His brain shifted gears, effortlessly running back her words in his head. "Sam Wiles, New York, Sunset Park, Greenglass. But—"

"Good. Listen." Her eyes flashed back toward him as though to make sure he was paying attention. "Your real last name is Reeves, not Williams. That'll be important when you talk to Sam."

"How—"

"For goodness' sake, Jason, stop talking and listen!" Desperation clawed at the words of his usually level-headed mother. Ana whimpered, and Jason absently squeezed her hand. He wished they weren't driving, that he could face his mom and get a good solid look at her. If his dad weren't going along with it, he'd think she'd broken into some sort of paranoid delusion.

"I'm listening," he assured his mother. Outside, the sirens grew closer.

"Trust no one," she said. "Assume everyone is the enemy. There are spies in more places than there are not. You are being watched. Remember that. And if you hear nothing else, you hear this." Her voice darkened. "Protect your sister. No matter what it costs, no matter what you have to do. You protect her." Her eyes flicked to his in the mirror, pinning him in place. "If they get a hold of either of you, you'll be lucky if all they do is put a bullet in your head."

The conviction of that threat put ice in Jason's stomach. "Who are they, Mom?"

"Jess," his dad interrupted. "It's now or never."

Above them, helicopters roared like thunder while the sirens screamed behind.

"When I stop the car," his mom called, "take the bags, take Ana, and run as far as you can. Your dad will disrupt their infrared as long as he can, but they'll still spot you if you're not careful."

His mom jerked the wheel, throwing the car perpendicular to a score of unmarked cruisers. Her voice broke. "We love you. Now run."

With that, she flung herself out the door, and his dad followed.

A megahorn blared. "Stay where you are!"

Instead, his dad took cover behind the hood of the car, pulling a pistol out of his jacket and firing on the plain-clothes officers. But his mom... Mom was everywhere, visible only as a blur and a trail of destruction. It glued Jason to his seat, his brain failing to make sense of what his eyes were telling him. No one could move that fast.

A stray bullet crashed through his window and whizzed inches from his face. A thunk reverberated in his ear as it embedded itself near the door, close to the passenger side seatbelt.

Jolted to action, Jason unbuckled himself and Ana, shoving the backpack into her hands and scooping up the two duffels himself. He threw Ana's door open and ran into the forest, pulling her along as fast as her trailing feet would allow.

The sound of the battle raged behind them: shouted orders, rapid gunfire, the ever-present helicopter blades. And then—a scream. His mother's scream.

He spun, searching through darkness and leaves to make her out above the treetops. She was fully visible now, dangling from one of the helicopter's skids with one arm. Her other arm hung limply beside her. Another gunshot, another scream, and then she was falling, and Jason turned back, running again, as fast and hard as Ana let him.

Even after the sounds of the struggle faded behind them, Jason pulled her along. His mom's words—and her scream—echoed in his head.

His legs pumped hard, body thrown fully into running, yet he couldn't turn off the engine of his mind. Doubts, problems, scenarios all swirled in his thoughts, twisting into an undoable tangle. He had no idea where to take Ana, no idea if his parents were alive, no idea why they were even running.

A picture coalesced in his head, and he stumbled. Recovering his stride, he tried to banish the thought. His parents were not criminals.

Then why are the cops chasing us?

He shoved that thought aside too. Besides, being fugitives didn't explain Mom moving like a streak of lightning. Reality had collapsed in under fifteen minutes, and he needed to focus.

Ana tripped and stumbled through the forest behind him, and he braced her forearm to help her keep her feet. Finally, they broke into a clearing, and Jason skidded to a stop. The forest here was quiet; it had been for a while. They could afford a pause—they would have to, for Ana's sake.

She kept going, though, hand tugging on his in a futile effort to pull him along. Her breaths were loud and ragged, and Jason cringed. He was hardly winded, suddenly appreciating run drills in a whole new way, but Ana rarely ever left the house, much less ran all out like they just had. He'd pushed her too far.

Yet, like a frightened animal, she still pulled, a desperate plea to leave, leave, leave.

"Ana." He dropped the duffels and tugged her back toward him. Even in the shadows, he could tell her face was red, and her long black hair was wild from the run. Her dark eyes screamed with fear and urgency, and tears stained her cheeks. Her terror sent a pang through his chest, and he spoke to her gently. "We need a break, time to rest."

He didn't know what he'd do if she got sick or collapsed. No matter how petite she was, he didn't think he'd be able to carry her long-distance. Mom had taken him on camping trips before with nothing but a knife between them, so he wasn't scared of hunkering down in the woods tonight if they had to. But with people looking for them, he didn't want it to come to that. They needed out of here, fast.

He held her gaze. "Okay?"

Ana's head shook vigorously, raven locks flying into her face. Trying to calm her, he took her cheeks in his hands, one of hers still wrapped around his. It was a skill he'd picked up a long time ago but hadn't needed to use since she had been much younger. He spoke softly, steadily. "Everything is going to be okay, Ana. We're going to be okay. Still, Ana. Be still."

It had always worked before, but today, it only seemed to agitate her more. She squirmed, eyes pleading with him.

Fire exploded in Jason's arm, and pain flashed through his vision.

He staggered back, twisting as he fell. At the clearing's edge stood six men in dark clothes and another wearing a black suit. The suited man's face contorted in anger, and he rounded on the one whose gun was raised.

Jason's head hit the ground hard, his world breaking into a thousand bright spots. He tried to force his eyes to focus, to hold onto reality, but the more he willed himself to consciousness, the more it slipped away. As darkness closed around his vision's hazy mosaic, Ana sang a soft, wordless song to herself. His heart crumbled. They'd escaped for all of ten minutes, and there was nothing he could do to protect her.

As her melody lullabied him into nothingness, he suddenly longed to crawl away through the bushes and keep crawling, to leave and never come back.

The world caved in on itself, and darkness overtook him.