Free Burn by Sarah Fine and Walter Jury

first.”
    Heat spreads over my skin, my anger rising to the surface. He’s playing a game. Keeping us isolated from each other, each blind to how the other is doing, hoping one of us will crack out of concern for the other. But I know my mom. If she really is alive, she’ll know what’s at stake if the H2 get access to Dad’s lab. They could hurt her over and over again, and she wouldn’t give them what they want. “Probably me. Why don’t you give it a try?”
    â€œBut your mother came for you. A foolhardy rescue attempt fueled by the same emotion that might lead her to help us if we apply the right kind of pressure. If you don’t want that to happen, I suggest you give us what we need sooner rather than later.”
    â€œFirst tell me about that thing on the road. The ship that attacked us. You knew what it was.”
    For the first time, his expression changes, fury hardening every feature. “Distraction techniques won’t work, not on me. Tell me how to get into the lab without triggering the countermeasures.”
    It’s not just distraction. The questions are piling up in my brain, crowding one another as they try to escape my mouth. “Are you guys in some kind of covert civil war? Is that why you need my dad’s stuff?”
    He crosses his arms over his chest. “Tell me how to get into the lab. It has a self-destruct mechanism as well, doesn’t it?”
    â€œWas that H2 technology? Who was flying it?”
    His voice takes on a razor edge as he says, “How many chances does the entry mechanism give before lethal measures are activated?”
    â€œWhere’s Willetts?” The professor may be H2, but he’s no friend of the Core—he wanted to keep the scanner away from them and was working with George to do it. “Does he have something to do with this?”
    â€œEnough.” Congers clenches his jaw. “Graham, go ahead.” He nods at the agent, whose mouth is tight as he slams his fist into my stomach. Breath explodes from my lungs, and I pitch forward. Congers catches my chair before I topple to the ground. He wrenches me upright.
    â€œLet’s consider that a hard reset,” Congers says. “Please stop wasting my time.” While Graham rubs his knuckles and waits for his boss to acknowledge him again, Congers repeats his demands for information to access my dad’s lab. I keep firing questions at him, trying to find out what the hell is going on, what attacked us on the road, and what it means for the scanner and the rest of my dad’s inventions. Every time I evade his demands, Congers’s face gets more mottled. He’s angry. Maybe a little desperate. But I don’t give in.
    The third time Congers gives Graham the go-ahead, the guy punches me in the head. He seems determined to pound information out of me—and also to show Congers how tough he is. The impact of the blow turns my vision white. The iron-salt tang of blood fills my mouth.
    â€œI’m going to go speak to your lovely girlfriend.” Congers’s voice rolls through the thick haze of pain in which I’m floating. “Think about what’s at stake for you, Tate. You’ve already lost your father. How much more can you stand to lose?” I hear the door opening. “Come on, Graham.”
    The door slams shut. The sound of footsteps fades. Even blinking hurts. But I force myself to do exactly that, trying to organize a few coherent thoughts. I focus hard on any sounds that come to me, but apart from the hum of the light overhead, I’ve got nothing. From the painted cinder-block walls and lack of windows, I gather that I’m probably in a basement, maybe of some old warehouse or office building.
    And if that’s true, it’s possible that I can get out. Maybe wreak enough havoc to escape. The idea jolts adrenaline through my veins, and I raise my head, moving my jaw to make sure