Heather Anastasiu - Override

Second books can be dreadfully hard, and I owe so many thanks to the people who helped me push through to find the story and get this book to where it needed to be.

First of all, thanks to my editor, Terra Layton, who was infinitely patient as we went round for round through so many drafts until we got one that finally clicked. I so appreciate your ideas, suggestions, and continued enthusiasm even though this one was a beast at times! And thank you to the rest of the team at St. Martins!

Thanks as always to my awesome agent, Charlie Olsen.

The amazing Lenore Appelhans deserves a huge shout-out. You read some truly dreadful early drafts and helped me realize that sometimes you have to just start over from scratch. You rock my socks off. Thanks also to my other fabulous beta readers, Paula Stokes and McCormick Templeman.

Huge thanks to my critique group here in Minneapolis, Anne Greenwood Brown, David Nunez, Natalie Boyd, Lauren Peck, and Carolyn Hall. You guys always call me out on my crap, help me write better characters and fuller scenes, and are all around just awesome people. I always look forward to Thursdays!

And thanks to the Apocalypsies for helping me stay sane through this whole crazy process. Apoca-hugs :)

MY HEART POUNDED in my ears. The low humming sound, muffled by the wall, was just loud enough to hear over my shallow, panicked breaths. I sat up on my loft bed and paused to listen before carefully easing myself down the ladder. The pads of my bare feet landed on the cold floor. There was barely enough space to stand up and I had to squeeze between the treadmill that pulled down from the wall and the shower and toilet at the foot of my bed.

I moved silently. Only two people at the lab knew I hid right behind their walls, and today couldnt be the day the rest of them found out. My life depended on it. The Resistance had been careful enough to erase the tiny alcove from the schematics. Officially, the room, just like me, didnt exist.

I paused with my ear inches from the wall. In the three months Id spent hidden in this confined space, I had come to know every sound. Learning them was a matter of habit almost as much as it was a matter of survival. I paused, focusing intently on the rhythmic click-click-click.

I leaned my forehead against the wall, letting out the breath I held. It was just an ordinary sound, a normal shift in the perfectly regulated air system. I should have known. This lab was one of the few places with the kind of heavy air-filtration system I needed to survive. It worked like clockwork, and, without it, almost any surface allergen would kill me quickly.

I closed my eyes and my heart rate slowed. It was remarkable how quickly I could move from alarm to complete relaxation and back again. Another matter of habit.

I climbed slowly back up to my bed. This alcove might be my safe haven, but sometimes it felt more like a prison. The bed was too short to stretch out and the ceiling too low to sit up completely. The confinement was strangling. Sometimes Id look at the walls and they seemed nearer than before, like the room was closing in on me, inch by inch.

I slept during the day, for as many hours as I could, but time still stretched out endlessly. Lately Id begun parsing the days into manageable thirty-minute pieces to make the long and painful monotony less overwhelming: drawing, jogging on the treadmill, unfolding and then refolding my clothes, pacing back and forth across the narrow floor, counting the objects in my room, studying the history texts the Resistance gave methe real histories, not the lies we learned in the Community. And training, endless training.

In the early mornings Id spend countless more half hours staring at the cool slab of ceiling above me, watching as the thin string hanging from the air duct blew back and forth in the allergen-free air. It was maddening to sit here knowing Adrien and the rest of the Resistance were fighting the Chancellor and the Community while I was stuck caged in this tiny room. I was tired of being the helpless prisoner. I wanted to be out there with them.

I closed my eyes and swallowed.

Most of all, I wanted to feel like I had some control again. When we escaped from the Community, I had reached into peoples bodies and crumpled the miniscule hardware in their brains with my telekinetic power. I had ripped heavy lockdown doors off their tracks. But now

Now, no matter how much I trainedor at least tried toit was no use. Id stare at my tablet for thirty minutes straight, willing it to move just an inch. It never budged. Not because the power wasnt there. Exactly the oppositethere was too much of it. I could feel it expanding inside me even now, pressing against the backs of my eyes and making my hands twitch. But I could never direct it the way I meant to. And then sometimes, when it had built up for too long, it would erupt like a boiling geyser.

I shook my twitching hand and then made a fist. I didnt want to think about it anymore. I propped myself up on my elbow and looked at the drawings papering the wall by my bed instead. Mom, Dad, my younger brother, Markan. The people Id left behind. And the people Id lost. Max.

I reached out and touched the picture of Maxs face. Id tried to capture how he looked when I first knew him, when everything had been simpler and wed been friends. Wed been drones together, subjects in the Community where we were tightly controlled by emotion-suppressing hardware. It was a dangerous place for anyone who managed to break free, but somehow wed found each other. Wed protected each other as we explored the new incredible powers that developed as a side effect of the hardware glitches. Id trusted him, before I even fully understood what that word meant.

But that was all a long time ago now. That was before Id learned that someone you think you know can look you in the face and tell you lies.

I thought about the last time Id seen Max, right after I found out hed been working for the Chancellor as a Monitor the whole time. He was an informant, reporting on people who were glitchers like us, getting them captured and repaired, or worse, deactivated. And he hadnt felt remorse for any of it.

I was going to protect you from it all, hed said. We were going to live a life beyond your best dreams, you and me together forever. It would have been perfect. His voice had turned bitter. You were supposed to be mine.

My face burned hot at the memory, and I shook my head. I remembered the disgust on his face when I told him to escape with us.

And do what? Join your little band of Resistance fighters? Spend every day watching someone else live the life I always wanted with you? Dont think so.

It was a wound I opened and salted over and over again. It tortured me to remember, and the anger felt fresh and hot every time I repeated his words. But the truth was, I needed the anger and the pain. I dug it deep into my chest like an anchor holding me in place. It reminded me that I was alive even if this alcove sometimes felt like a tomb, that I was free, and that one day soon Id be able to join the others to fight against the many injustices that had enslaved us.

I turned my eyes away from Max to the other face that was featured most often in my drawings. Adrien, with that smile he saved for me when no one else was looking. I sighed. His was the only face on my wall that didnt fill me with regret.

The last time Id seen him had been ages ago, while he was passing through on his way to the Foundation. It was going to be a school for glitchers, and, best of all, it would have an air-filtration system equal to the research lab here. Id be able to join him there without fear of the air I breathed or worrying that any sound I made might get me caught and killed.