I wake up to the sound of someone crying.

  Not the gentle kind of crying where tears silently roll down your cheeks. The ugly kind, with hiccuping sobs and sniffling and the occasional gasp for air. The kind that makes your whole face puffy and red, and you look like absolute garbage for hours afterward.

  I crack one eye open, then immediately regret it as the light sends a spike of pain through my skull. Everything hurts. My abdomen feels like I swallowed a beehive. My mouth tastes like I've been gargling river water, which, to be fair, I probably was. And my skin feels like it's been sandpapered, then salted, then set on fire.

  But I'm alive. And according to the sobbing, someone seems pretty upset about that fact.

  I force my eye open again, pushing through the pain, and try to orient myself. I'm lying on something soft—a mattress, I think—in what looks like the Faraday room at the Music Hall. The walls are lined with metal mesh, and there's no window, just a single fluorescent light panel in the ceiling that feels like it's drilling directly into my retinas.

  Someone's set up an impressive amount of medical equipment around me. Heart rate monitor, IV stand, oxygen tank, the works. Where did they get all this stuff? Did they rob a hospital? Actually, don't answer that. The less I know about potential felonies, the better. It's probably stuff from Tasha's mom, somehow. I'm not worried about it.

  I turn my head slightly, trying to locate the source of the crying, and instantly regret that too. Pain lances through my neck, and I let out an involuntary groan.

  The crying stops abruptly.

  "Sam?" a voice asks, and suddenly Kate's face appears above me, her eyes red and swollen, her nose running. She looks awful. There's a nasty bruise forming along her right cheekbone where Mr. Retribution threw her down, and her blonde hair is a tangled mess.

  "Hey," I croak. My voice sounds like I've been gargling gravel. "You look like shit."

  Kate makes a sound that's half laugh, half sob. "Look who's talking, shark girl."

  I try to smile, but it feels more like a grimace. "Did we win?"

  "You're an idiot," Kate says, but there's no heat behind it. Her eyes fill with fresh tears. "A complete, absolute idiot. You weren't supposed to get shot. That wasn't part of the plan."

  "Plans change," I wheeze. "Adapt and overcome. Or something."

  "You got shot," Kate repeats, like I might have missed this important detail. "Three times. And then you nearly drowned. Again."

  "Two and a half times," I correct her. "The one on my face was just a graze."

  "Oh my god!" Kate throws her hands up in exasperation, accidentally smacking the IV stand. It wobbles dangerously before she steadies it. "You're impossible. You nearly died and you're making jokes!"

  "To be fair," I say, trying to shift into a more comfortable position and immediately abandoning that plan when my guts scream in protest, "this was basically the plan. Fake Soot's death. Make it look convincing."

  "Getting yourself killed wasn't exactly what we had in mind," says another voice, and I turn my head (slowly this time) to see Jordan standing in the doorway, arms crossed.

  They look exhausted, with dark circles under their eyes and their usually perfect clothes rumpled, but they manage a weak smile when our eyes meet. "Good to see you among the living, Small. You had us worried there for a minute."

  "Only a minute? I must be losing my touch."

  Jordan rolls their eyes, but I can see the relief behind the annoyance. "Tasha says your vital signs are stabilizing. The Hypeman is wearing off, but your healing factor seems to be picking up the slack."

  "Speaking of slack," I say, glancing down at my torso, "what's with all the..." I gesture vaguely at the bandages covering most of my body. They're damp in spots, stained with what looks like a mix of blood and something else—clear yellowish fluid that I really don't want to think about too hard.

  "Those would be your exit wounds," says Tasha, appearing behind Jordan with a medical kit. "The good news is, the bullets went clean through. The bad news is, they took a lot of you with them on the way out."

  "Gross," I mutter. "But healing, right?"

  "Yes, but not as fast as I'd like," Tasha replies, moving to check the monitors beside me. "Your healing factor is working overtime, but it's having to rebuild a lot of damaged tissue simultaneously. And you picked up some nasty bacteria from the river that's competing for your body's attention." She frowns at one of the readouts. "Your temperature's still elevated. How do you feel?"

  "Like I got twice and then thrown into the Delaware River," I say cheerfully.

  Tasha sighs, but there's a ghost of a smile playing around her lips. "At least your sense of humor is intact. That's a good sign."

  "The best sign," I agree. "So, how'd the rest of it go? After I, you know, took a swim?"

  The room suddenly feels more crowded as a bunch of people surge in at once—Maggie, Lily, Amelia, Maxwell, and to my surprise, Akilah and Devonte. The gang's all here. Great. Nothing like having an audience while you're leaking bodily fluids all over a mattress.

  "You IDIOT!" Maggie shouts, pushing past Jordan to stand at the foot of my bed, her eyes blazing. "What were you thinking, taking Hypeman? Do you have any idea how dangerous that stuff is?"

  "In my defense," I say, "I was actively drowning and bleeding out at the time. It seemed like the lesser of two evils. Which brings me to my question," I say, looking around at all of them. "How exactly did you find me? I wasn't exactly in the spot we planned."

  Crossroads steps forward. "Do you really need to even ask at this point?"

  I laugh, and it hurts, so I stop, and then I start again, and then I force myself to stop. It's so rare seeing Max make a joke. Max. Maxwell. Max. Not Crossroads. He's not even wearing a costume, just a hoodie and sweatpants. Max.

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  "It wasn't easy," he admits. "The river current was stronger than we anticipated, and you drifted further than we expected. By the time we located you at the yacht club, you'd been in the water for almost 20 minutes."

  "Jesus," Maggie mutters. "It's a miracle you're alive."

  "Not a miracle," he corrects. "A combination of her healing factor, the Hypeman, and some very quick medical intervention from Tasha."

  "Alright, man," Maggie mumbles.

  I glance at Tasha, who's busy changing one of my bandages. "Thanks for that, by the way. Sorry about bleeding all over your van."

  "Not my van," she says distractedly, peeling back a gauze pad to reveal something underneath that makes me instantly look away. I don't need to see what my insides look like, thanks. "And you can thank me by never doing anything this stupid again."

  "No promises," I say automatically, then wince as Kate makes a sound like I've stabbed her. "I mean, I'll try to avoid getting shot in the future. Scout's honor."

  "You were never a scout," Kate mutters.

  "Details," I say, waving a hand dismissively. The movement pulls at something in my abdomen, and I can't quite suppress a gasp of pain. "So, did it work? The plan, I mean. Do they think Soot is dead?"

  "Oh, it worked," Devonte says, stepping forward with a grin that's equal parts impressed and horrified. "They bought it hook, line, and sinker. Especially after Mrs. Quiet shot you in the face."

  "It was a graze," I insist.

  "It was a good enough graze to spray blood everywhere, while dramatically shattering exactly half of Soot's mask," Akilah points out. "Very theatrical. Very convincing."

  "And the fake cops," Amelia points out.

  "Actually, those weren't just my sound effects," Devonte admits. "Maxwell called the real cops before we even started. They were already on their way."

  I turn to look at Maxwell in surprise. "You called the actual police? Isn't that... I don't know, excessive?"

  "You were going to have been, in the future, been shot three times and thrown in a river," he says dryly. "I thought some genuine urgency might be appropriate."

  "Fair point," I concede, my face crossing trying to follow all the tenses. "So what happened after I went for my swim? Wait, was me getting shot unavoidable?"

  "You don't want the answer to that, trust me," Maxwell answers, not looking me in the eye.

  "Oh, you missed all the fun parts," Jordan says, perching on the edge of a nearby chair. "After your dramatic exit, the Kingdom guys got into it with the Washes. Mr. Retribution basically rag-dolled Brainwash—"

  "Sorry about that," Amelia says, wincing. "He hits like a freight train."

  "—and then Mrs. Quiet tried to shoot Powerwash, but her aim was still garbage because of all the smoke and pepper spray."

  "And because I'm faster than her!" Lily interrupts.

  "Meanwhile," Jordan continues, ignoring her, "Mouthwash was whacking people with the metal stick and I bet that felt really great to get out of your system."

  "Actually, I really just wanted to kill myself at that point," Kate responds, dangerously blase.

  I wince at the bitterness in Kate's voice. "I'm sorry, but it was the only way to keep you safe. They were going to kill you otherwise."

  "I know that," she snaps. "I agreed to the plan, remember? I'm the one who suggested it in the first place!"

  "You suggested faking your death," I correct her. "I was the one who suggested how to do it."

  "Actually," Jordan interjects, "if we're being technical, I think I was the one who came up with the specifics, two years ago."

  "Oh yeah," I say, a ghost of a smile crossing my face. "We've come full circle."

  "Except this time you actually got shot," Kate points out, still looking annoyed, her face scrunched. "Multiple times. And nearly died. Again."

  "Details," I say again, trying to sound dismissive. But the truth is, I feel awful. Not just physically—though that's definitely a factor—but emotionally too. Kate's life is getting upended because of me. Because I couldn't figure out a better solution than this extreme deception. "It's not the first time and won't be the last."

  We all sort of avoid looking at each other in various ways. The Faraday room sure has interestingly shiny walls, huh?

  "So what happens now?" I ask, looking around at them all. "With Soot gone, the Kingdom thinks they've won that particular battle. But they still don't know who Bloodhound is, right? My identity is safe?"

  "As far as we can tell," Crossroads confirms. "There was some discussion between Mr. Retribution and Mrs. Quiet after they thought they'd killed Soot. Something about reporting back to 'Upper Management' that the job was done. No mention of you or any of us."

  "Except they do know about the Washes now," Amelia points out. "They saw us, fought us. They might start looking into who we are."

  "Not likely," Jordan says with a dismissive wave. "They think you're just another gang of low-level thugs, not worth their time now that they've eliminated their primary target."

  "Speaking of which," I say, turning to Kate, "we need to figure out where you're going to live. And, um, you need to tell your dad what's going on."

  Kate's face, already pale, goes a shade whiter. "I know," she says quietly. "That's going to be a fun conversation. 'Hey Dad, remember how we lost our house to a fire? Well, now we need to move again because I've been moonlighting as a vigilante and made some very powerful enemies who think I'm dead, and we'd like to keep it that way.'"

  "Maybe leave out some of the details," I suggest. "Like the part where you were directly targeting one of the most dangerous criminal organizations in the city."

  "Or the part where you stole a bunch of their drugs and money," Jordan adds helpfully.

  "Or the part where you blew up one of their warehouses," Maggie chimes in.

  "Or—"

  "I get it!" Kate says, throwing up her hands. "I did a lot of stupid, dangerous things! You don't need to list them all!"

  An awkward silence falls over the room. Kate stares fixedly at the floor like it's suddenly become very interesting. I stare at the ceiling, wondering if it's possible to die of embarrassment on top of everything else.

  Finally, Tasha clears her throat. "Alright, everyone out. Sam needs rest, and I need to change these bandages without an audience. You can continue your soap opera later."

  There's a chorus of protests, but Tasha's tone brooks no argument. One by one, they file out of the room. Kate is the last to leave, still not meeting my eyes.

  "Kate," I call after her, and she pauses in the doorway, her back to me. "We'll figure this out. I promise."

  She doesn't turn around, but I see her shoulders slump slightly. "I know," she says, her voice so quiet I almost miss it. "We always do."

  Then she's gone, and it's just me and Tasha.

  "That went well," I say sarcastically as Tasha begins unwrapping the bandages around my abdomen.

  "Better than expected, considering you just participated in one of the most reckless, ill-conceived plans I've ever heard of," she replies, her tone professional but her eyes concerned as she inspects whatever horror show is happening with my gunshot wounds.

  I would laugh, but I'm pretty sure it would tear something important. "It worked, though," I point out.

  "At what cost?" Tasha counters, carefully removing a blood-soaked pad to reveal... actually, I don't want to know what's under there. I close my eyes and try to think about literally anything else. "You nearly died. Again. And now Kate has to uproot her entire life because you two couldn't come up with a less dramatic solution."

  "There wasn't time for anything else," I say, wincing as she applies something cold and stinging to the wound. "The Kingdom was closing in fast. They were going to kill her. Given the choice between Kate dying for real or faking her death and having to move... well, it's not much of a choice, is it?"

  Tasha sighs, her hands gentle despite her harsh words. "I know. I just worry about you, Sam. All of you. We're all too young to be making these kinds of life-or-death decisions."

  "I'll be careful," I say instead of what I was actually thinking of saying, though we both know it's at least partially a lie. "And anyway, the plan worked. Soot is officially dead. As far as the Kingdom is concerned, they've eliminated a major thorn in their side. Everyone wins."

  "Except Kate," Tasha points out, moving on to check the wound on my face. "And you, currently bleeding all over this mattress."

  "Details," I say for the third time, and this time Tasha actually laughs.

  "You're impossible," she says, echoing Kate's earlier sentiment. "Now shut up and let me finish changing these bandages. Or would you prefer your intestines fall out the next time you try to sit up?"

  "You know, when you put it like that, the bandages sound like a good idea."