“His gaze settles on the discarded book. He leans, reaching until his fingertips graze Dante's Inferno, still on its bed of folded sheets. "What have we here?" he asks."Required reading," I say."It's a shame they do that," he says, thumbing through the pages. "Requirement ruins even the best of books.”

“It’s a shame they do that,” he says, thumbing through the pages. “Requirement ruins even the best of books.”

“I am still frozen when he reaches out and brushes a finger over the three lines etched into the surface of my ring, then twists one of his own rings to reveal a cleaner but identical set of lines. The Archive’s insignia. When I don’t react—because no fluid lie came to me and now it’s too late—he closes the gap between us, close enough that I can almost hear the bass again, radiating off his skin. His thumb hooks under the cord around my throat and guides my key out from under my shirt. It glints in the twilight. Then he fetches the key from around his own neck. “There,” he says cheerfully. “Now we’re on the same page.”

“We’re a team, Mac,” he says. “We’ll get through this.” “Which part?” I ask. He smiles. “All of it.” And I smile back, because I want him to be right.”

“I just want to know if you’re okay,” he says, so soft I barely hear it through the static. I’m not, not at all; but his worry gives me the strength I need to lie. To pull back and smile and tell him I’m fine.”

“You, Mackenzie Bishop,” he says as we hit the landing, “have been a very bad girl.” “How so?” He rounds the banister at the base of the staircase. “You involved me in a lie! Don’t think I didn’t catch it.”

“Lying is easy. But it's lonely.""What do you mean?""When you lie to everyone about everything, what's left? What's true?""Nothing," I say."Exactly.”