Rafferty dreamed that she was fighting a dragon made of colorful rags. She held tight to the beast, which seemed impossibly long, as it rolled through the air, beating its patchwork rainbow wings. The dragon dove toward the ground, and Rafferty basked in the freedom of the free fall.

She woke with a start. She was indoors, but didn't know exactly where she was. She was lying on something soft, and for a moment she thought that the dragon was asleep. Rafferty noticed a crack running along the wall, once she stared at most of the previous day, and awareness washed over her like water. There was no dragon, and she hadn't been flying. She was in a room that belonged to Alex with Malice, and probably awaiting a fresh round of torture.

Except she wasn't.

It was the same room. That much was true,

But she was alone. And lying on a blanket. With all of her stuff neatly piled nearby.

This realization somehow made Rafferty more nervous than when Alex had been standing in front of her. Her eyes darted around the room, expecting him to open a door or pull back a curtain, pointing and laughing, mocking her for thinking maybe it was over.

Rafferty remembered something that Vincent had told her, not long after they'd met. Alex was the sort of guy who was always two steps ahead. If something was going according to plan, it was his plan, and you'd best not forget it.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

Rafferty rolled over, scrambling toward her gear, and everything hurt. The worst of it seemed to coalesce in little colonies near her face, ribs, and knees, the last of which Alex had spent most of the previous afternoon battering with a baton.

Each time a knee hit the floor, Rafferty felt like she might pass out. She had to push herself up higher, and sort of scuttle toward her stuff. When she got to it, she collapsed like she'd raced Trevor on his motorcycle across the practice field.

She sat there, taking in air with desperate gulps, one hand on the handle of her sword, her eyes fixed on the door. Finally, she drew up her knees, and managed to pull on her boots, another exercise in pain tolerance.

Well, whatever the plan is, now it's a plan where I have my sword, and that makes it a stupid, stupid plan.

i think.

Rafferty pushed herself to her feet, and limped to the door. She opened the door, and braced for an ambush that didn't come. Rafferty was as alone outside as she had been inside.

Well, the lawn is still free of my guts, so I'm just gonna count this as a win.

But I'm in your head Sparkles, and that's exactly where I want to be. I'm in your head, and I'm not going anywhere. I'm like a day at Wonderland, Sparkles. I stay with you even after you leave.

Shut up, the talking animals were scarier.

But were they?

If there's a plan, it's my plan. And it's right on schedule.

She about to engage in another round of debate with the Alex in her head when she saw a message scrawled in the dirt.

WE THOUGHT IT MIGHT HURT TOO MUCH TO WALK.

And there was an arrow above pointing farther away from the doorway.

It was pointing at a motorcycle.

Trevor's motorcycle.