She was there again, spinning away in the skies, the garden all around them. A sky awash in hues of blue and purple, though no sun could be seen. An island surrounded by the endless expanse of blue, high in the atmosphere.

A red-haired man was sitting next to her, a spotless white suit stretched over narrow shoulders. The stone bench beneath them was cold, yet surprisingly comfortable. The man sighed, a look of resignation adorning his face.

“You never learn, do you, Janey?” her father asked. His smile was as familiar as it ever was, relaxed in a way Jane could never replicate.

The wind was stirring through the garden, hissing between the grass. Jane’s hair swirled around her eyes, momentarily obscuring her father from view.

“I guess not…” Jane admitted. She looked at the ground, the brick pathway lead off into the distance, ending abruptly where the garden met empty sky. The clouds were flowing beneath in a sea of white. Not a single speck of the Earth was visible beneath.

Her father’s arm encircled her, pulling her closer. “That’s alright. Every system has a point of failure. Recursive learning algorithms often fail when given a large picture. They need to break it down first.”

“What?” Jane asked, utterly confused.

He shook his head. “You understand what I’m saying. You just need to think about it.”

“But dad, I don’t.”

His hand rubbed her shoulder. He did not reply.

“I’m scared dad. I don’t know who to trust. It feels like-”

“No, no.” He was shaking his head, face turned towards the sky. There was no sun, yet his face was perfectly lit. “No feeling. Recursive learning. Break it into smaller pieces. And do it quickly. You don’t have much time.”

Jane’s lips pressed together. Smaller pieces. And quickly.

Victoria had been watching her back, even before Jane had confessed her secret to her. An ever-present fixture in her otherwise lonely life. It was only by accident that Jane had discovered a reason to doubt her.

Ryder had, so far, proven himself to be absolutely trustworthy. There had been many speed bumps, but he had always pulled through in the end. If anyone was on her side, it was him.

And then there was Watson, who, in his own words, was only doing this for his job. He was as mercenary as they came, stooping low enough to use a teenage girl as a one-woman reconnaissance team. The wild-card of her loosely connected resistance movement.

Loosely connected, but somehow still connected.

“I’m missing something. Information.” Jane looked up, face set in determination. Her father was right. She had to separate herself from her emotions, break the problem into smaller pieces and-

“Dad?”

He was gone. She was alone in the garden, legs grown cold against the stone bench.

And then a crash pulled her from her dreams.

She bolted awake, her head slamming into the door. She groaned, the pain chasing away what little sleep still remained in her body. Her laptop tumbled from her lap as the screensaver came to life, detecting movement.

Another crash, this time deeper in her house. Heavy footsteps that certainly did not belong her mother. The shouting of men, their voices hoarse and growling.

Her heart skipped a beat as the adrenaline shot through her. A tingling filled her extremities, willing her to move.

The door opened with a creak, and, with one eye, Jane peered out from the crack. It was night, and the hallway was dark. Only a thin sliver of light bled onto the floorboards from the kitchen.

Another crash echoed through the house.

“Where is she?” Even all the way in her room, Jane could sense the menace in the man’s voice.

There was the sound of an open palm hitting someone’s cheek. Jane’s heart dropped into her stomach.

Mom.

She needed to act, and quickly. But what could she possibly do?

There was no time to think of a plan. A shadow passed through the hallway, intercepting the beam of light. Momentarily, she was blinded by the sudden darkness. The door opened abruptly, and Jane threw herself back, nearly tripping over her stuffed bear.

“Found ‘er, boss-man,” the man said, his greasy hair illuminated from behind.

He would have spoken more, but Jane found her body reacting before she had commanded it to. A book went flying from her hand, impacting the man in the chin. He hissed and raised one arm to shield himself.

“Knock it off, girly!” he roared. Still shielding his face, he lunged into the room, ducking low and colliding with Jane at the waist, knocking her over.

This was no amateur teenage-boy scuffle, or even Joss’s clumsy strength. Before she realized it, he had managed to pin her dominant hand against her back, the other flailing uselessly to the side.

“Cut it out or I’ll cut ya’.” His head was behind hers, and she could feel his disgusting breath against the nape of her neck. He stunk in a way Jane had never encountered before, like burnt plastic.

Jane ceased her futile attempts to somehow hurt him. It was only making her more tired. She would have to wait until he dropped his guard.

And, with a grunt, the greasy man hoisted Jane up with nearly no effort. She yelped as he carried her back through the hallway, accidentally slamming her feet against the door. The impact dislodged the sole photograph on the walls. It shattered with a crash, the cheap frame falling apart as it hit the ground.

Cracked glass intersected the image of her family, a jagged line separating young Jane from her father.

“’Ere we go,” the man grunted. He had to turn sideways in order to fit the both of them through the doorway.

Her eyes took a moment to adjust as she was deposited on the floor of the kitchen. It smelled of the cleaning chemicals her mom had used earlier in the day, sharp and dry.

Groaning in pain, she turned onto her back, and was greeted by the sight of the last person she ever wanted to encounter.

Mayor Jackson, the most powerful man in Alexander township, and the man she had been hunting for weeks.

At this distance, his scowl was all the more impressive. A heavy brow only further accented the ice-cold stare in his green eyes, so similar to Ryder’s yet so different. Both hands were clasped behind his back while he glanced about the kitchen in distaste, apparently disgusted by the subtle poverty around him.

“We meet at last, Miss Mackenzie.” The boom of his voice was only amplified by the cramped kitchen, all at once commanding and aloof.

“Where’s my mom?” Jane was not even going to bother trying to talk her way out of this. Every instinct in her mind was telling her that she was backed into a corner. One wrong move may prove to be fatal. She could not take any risks.

Jackson was silent as he pulled a chair from beneath the table and sat in it, a soft exhale escaping from his nose.

It was only then that Jane noticed several men standing against the walls, each so immobile that she had not seen them at first. While their general appearance suggested they were simply thugs, the discipline in their postures told a different story. These were professionals, they would not make the same mistakes a common gang-banger would.

Jackson nodded at one of these men, somehow communicating orders with a single movement. Several moments later, her mother was carried in, deposited on the floor in the same way Jane had.

“Mom!” Jane crawled to her mother’s gagged form, sighing with relief. She appeared unharmed, though fear was etched in the wrinkles of her face.

Jane pulled the cloth from her mother’s mouth, hands shaking.

“Mr. Jackson, wh- what’s this all about?” her mother’s voice was barely audible, a terrified squeak that Jane had never heard from her.

The tips of Jackson’s shoes were mere inches from the mother’s prostrate form. He shifted them away from her, uncomfortably. “Indeed, Jane, why don’t you enlighten us on what this is all about. Are you working with law enforcement? Or perhaps the cartels south of the border?”

Jane met her mother’s eyes, which were wide with confusion. She stayed silent. She needed time to think.

Jackson tutted, the scowl deepening. “It’s strange. Until only several days ago, we were entirely unaware of your presence. You could have entirely avoided this outcome. It seems you’ve decided to take a more… active role in whatever it is you’re a part of. Clearly a mistake.”

Even through the fear clouding her mind, something stuck out to Jane.

A few days ago? How is that even possible? Watson said they had been onto her for weeks. He’d impressed upon her that they had to act now, or else she would be in danger for the rest of her life. Had he been exaggerating the capabilities of Jackson’s group? But why?

Jackson seemed to pick up on something in her expression, even if she had done her best to suppress it. “You’re in doubt. Is it doubt in your own loyalties? Or, even in yourself?”

His eyes were as intense as they ever were. Jane felt as if he were looking through her, understanding her mind in a way she couldn’t.

“Please, sir, you’ve got the wrong girl. My daughter’s done nothing! She’s just a sweet-” Her mother choked off as Jackson raised his shoe and placed it over her neck.

Jane roared instinctually, and tried to dislodge Jackson’s crushing foot with both hands. The overly-polished shoe hardly budged, even with all of Jane’s might. One of the men grabbed Jane around the waist, and shoved her towards the other end of the room, separating the two women.

“Wait- wait,” Jane’s chest was heaving, her throat nearly closed up from fear. “I’ll tell you everything, okay? Just stop. Please.”

Jackson raised his foot immediately, as if he had expected that reaction. His scowl turned to the younger Mackenzie, waiting.

She had to lie. Even if the chance that he would believe her was slim, she had to try. “It’s just me. I’m working alone. I don’t know, I just… I was playing cop. Just being stupid. Like in the movies. Teenage vigilante stuff.”

“I am aware of your involvement with my son, and the way you’ve manipulated him. You are not working alone. Do not lie to me again.” His hands, which had previously been resting in his lap, produced a small pistol from a pocket in his suit. It was so tiny that his hand engulfed most of it, but Jane felt threatened all the same.

That was it then. There was no more room to maneuver.

“No… it really did start like that, at first. I uncovered your group by accident. Just me. But then the police contacted me. They said that they wanted my help.” Every word felt like another step closer to an inevitable bullet in her head, but Jane had no choice. She had to keep talking, just to stall them. Maybe something would happen, an opportunity she could take advantage of. If she were religious, she would be praying for divine intervention.

“So they are aware of our activity,” Jackson muttered to himself. Behind the green eyes, Jane could see precise calculations taking place, a maelstrom of thoughts.

There was the sound of liquid splashing as the men began emptying bottles full of a clear liquid around the kitchen. Jane’s eyes watered. She recognized the chemical scent of high-proof alcohol.

And then, Jackson dashed any hope Jane had left. “We’ll need to eliminate the both of you. I’m…” He glanced down at Jane’s mother once more. “Hm, no. I don’t believe I’m sorry. But I do wish you had never put me in this situation.”

The pistol, slowly, raised. Jane’s world sharpened to a cold actuality as she found herself looking down the metal barrel, a bullet staring back at her.

It felt surreal. Like she were watching it through her laptop screen. A detachment had stolen her mind from her body, and she found herself to be a mere observer in her own final moments.

Fitting, she thought. She’d watched everyone else her whole life, and now she would watch her own end.

A click. The pistol was primed.

The rushing of whatever the thugs were pouring out was all around them. The walls shone, wet.

As if it had accepted defeat, her heart stilled. At last, it was quiet in Jane’s head.

Jackson pulled the trigger.