Jordyn

"Neil," I say as the smirking boy comes into full view.

"Hey, Jordyn," he says, spreading his arms. "Did you miss me?"

I roll my eyes.

"I'll take that as a no. What happened to Orphan Annie?" He jerks his head towards Sam.

"I think you know," I growl.

"Was it the morphs? Did Murano finally give clearance to release them?"

Morphs? I assume he's talking about Sarah and Kaia, so I just nod.

"Sweet," he says. "I told her they would be killer."

He takes a step towards the three of us, crossing his arms.

"That little bird trick you pulled was clever," he says. "I did not see that one coming. You remind me of a roach--impossible to kill."

Ezra steps in front of me as Neil gets closer.

"Oh, calm down, boy genius. You're gonna need me if you wanna get through that door," Neil says. I place a hand on Ezra's hip and push him gently out of the way.

"How?" I ask.

Neil digs into his pocket and draws out a small piece of white plastic.

"I've got the keycard, Jordyn," he whispers. "I'm the only one in the entire complex that does."

"Why you?" I spit, before I can stop myself.

"Because he's Murano's slave," Ezra seethes.

Neil glares at him, and I shiver. I've been the recipient of that look. I know how intense it is. Yet, Ezra doesn't even blink or fold.

"Oh, Ezra," Neil says, still glaring. "Watch your tongue. I would hate if it got chopped off."

"I'd like to see you try," Ezra replies.

Neil draws a knife out of his pockets and lunges at Ezra. I take a step back and shout Ezra's name, but the boy is on equal footing with Neil. He grabs Neil's wrist and twists it away from him, but Neil kicks out at him, knocking him off balance. While Ezra stumbles back, the other boy takes advantage of the moment of weakness and drags his knife across Ezra's chest.

Ezra gasps in pain, leaning against the wall. Neil steps back, twirling the knife between his fingers.

"It'll be your tongue next," he warns. "Anything else to say?"

Ezra keeps quiet, shooting a glare almost more dangerous than Neil's.

Neil turns back towards me.

"You're the logical one in the room," he says. "Now, what was your question?"

"Why do you have the only keycard?" I ask.

"Because Murano gave it to me."

"Clearly," I snap, "but why you?"

"Who else? I mean, after all, I am her Presidential Assistant."

"It was you!" I screech, pointing. "You turned Sam and I in on the night we were caught!"

Neil claps again.

"Good job, Jordyn. I'm assuming Ezra told you. You never would have remembered that on your own." He pockets the knife and nods. "It was me. I wasn't supposed to be in The Hills that night. Murano had asked me to travel outside city limits and check on a reform facility on the coast.

"But I forgot a piece of luggage. I arrived right at guard change and had to let myself in. Lucky for me, someone had already disarmed the security system. I didn't even have to swipe my badge. When I stumbled across you and Sam, it was really too late to stop the fires. One text, and the two of you were as good as caught."

He circles around me under the close scrutiny of a bleeding Ezra and a boiling Sam.

"How did you end up here, then?"

"Murano sent me ahead of you by a few days. Told me to make sure you suffered before The Island took you out. I would have succeeded too-"

"If it wasn't for you meddling kids and your dog?" Ezra interrupts. Neil glares at him, clenching his fist.

"If I had held my foot on your chest for a little longer," Neil finishes.

"Give us the keycard," I say, trying to sound as menacing as possible. "We don't want to hurt you."

Neil laughs.

"I would really like to see that, Jordyn," he says, still smiling. "It's been almost a year since I had the pleasure of fighting with you--the real you, not this amnesiac mess Murano created."

"Let's go, then," I snap, puffing my chest out. Neil pockets the keycard and cracks his knuckles.

"Oh-kay. If you say so," he says with a shrug, and then, without warning, he lunges at me. I ready myself for impact, but he never makes it to me. As if gravity caught him midstep, his body slams into the tunnel floor face first.

My eyes trail down to his ankle, where I see a hand wrapped around him.

Sam.

Neil recovers quickly, deciding to go after Sam first. Before Sam can even get on his feet, the boy is at his throat, throwing punch after punch into his stomach. Sam sways awkwardly on his ankle, backing up while he tries to knock the hits away. Most the time, he's successful, but other times, he just absorbs the hit and keeps blocking.

Fighting back isn't even an option. Neil must realize that, too, because within a minute, he switches tactics and grabs a handful of Sam's full, brown hair. Sam reaches for his hand, but Neil presses him back against the wall. I watch in horror as Neil slams Sam's head into the wall.

Repetitive dull hits echo around the room as Neil continues to throw Sam's head into the concrete. Sam's eyes roll back into his head. His body slumps, held up by nothing more than Neil's grip. Neil lets him go, and he crumples into a heap, blood pooling around his head.

I cover my mouth to block out the scream I feel building up.

"You next, boy genius?" Neil asks, pointing at Ezra. The blonde pants angrily, clutching his chest. The bleeding has slowed but not stopped entirely. "I take that as a no. So, it's just me and Jordyn."

"You can do this, Jordy," Ezra moans, his voice like a candle in the middle of a storm. "The knowledge is all there. Years of training is knitted into your muscles. Trust your body."

My eyes dart between him and Neil, and my lungs try to even out my breathing. I have to stay calm. Ezra's right. Time after time I've surprised myself with hidden memories--things I shouldn't have lived through. I knew how to treat my broken arm. I knew to use my leg strength and agility to outrun the lion. I knew how to build a fire.

I know how to fight Neil. It's there. I just have to tap into it.

Neil throws the first punch, and I let my body do the work. I slide to the left and his fist slams into the wall. He winces but recovers fast. This time, he goes for my sling. My good hand meets his fist, and I clench my fingers down around his. The force of his punch makes my arm tremble, but it doesn't fail.

I twist his wrist away from his body; he switches tactics. A foot swings out towards my legs. I kick it away quickly, and he stumbles backwards. His fist slips out of my grip, but my body knows what to do with the opportunity. It lifts my leg up and swipes a barefoot across the side of his face. The impact knocks him sideways, giving me enough time to reach for the knife I pocketed.

As Neil lunges for me a third time, keeping one eye on my legs, I use the knife to block his hands. Every punch he throws it met with a slash, until his forearms are bleeding down to his elbows. The pain doesn't seem to affect him, though.

He takes a step towards me, and I lean into him. I'm back on the beach, defending Sam. I'm dying on the shack's rug. I'm burning alive in the forest. My mind zones out, letting my body take full control. All I see is the two people behind him that I took responsibility for.

I feel the knife move forward; I hear it tear through jumpsuit and skin. I smell the metallic, iron-laced blood fill the air. Neil's gasping and gurgling sounds distant, like he's miles above water.

Yet, there's no stopping my body. Could I if I wanted to?

Time blurs together like the colors of the tunnel around me, until I feel like I'm turning in a whirlpool of colors and sounds. Arms wrap themselves around me, screaming my name, jerking me backwards.

"Jordyn! Stop! It's done; you can stop."

Ezra.

His voice slams me back into reality, and I blink a few times. The world uprights itself, and I lean into his embrace.

"You did it," he whispers, as I calm down. "You can stop."

I look down at myself. Blood covers my already filthy jumpsuit. It drips from my hands and mixes with the black, monster blood that we brought with us. A pool of it creeps towards my feet, and my eyes follow it. Ezra continues to pull me away as I scream, clenching my eyes shut.

I feel him sit me down against the wall, feel his hands on my cheeks, hear him saying my name. But I can't get that image out of my head--Neil's body, chest and stomach torn open, insides spewing out.

I did that. I destroyed him.

"I'm a monster," I finally manage to spit out, opening my eyes to look into Ezra's deep eyes.

"No, you're not," he says, still clutching my face with both hands.

"I am now," I whine. My shoulders shake as I fight back tears.

"No, you're not," he repeats, more firmly. "You weren't before, and you aren't now. You've always been protecting us. That's what you do, Jordyn. You protect people.

"The houses? They contained twelve diplomats that were about to make it legal to publicly execute children as young as thirteen. Thousands of orphaned, innocent children would have perished on the stage the next day, killed however the executioner felt like putting them down. You stood up for them. You put yourself and  your freedom on the line to buy them another chance at a full life.

"And Neil? He would have killed all of us. You're not a monster or a murderer or a criminal. You're a rebel, a protector of those who can't protect themselves. Trust me; I've known you for a long time."

A sob slips out of my mouth as he finishes talking, and without hesitating, he throws his arms around me. He whispers comforting words to me, rocks me back and forth, and tries to calm me down.

Does it matter what my intentions were? I still killed twelve people--now thirteen. Does the end justify the means?