The crisp scent of clean clothes filled the small room, a temporary, mundane comfort in a world that had lost all semblance of normalcy. I stood by the table, methodically folding a stack of medical scrubs, my mind a million miles away. All I could think about was Thomas and the look on his face when he woke up. The sheer terror and confusion in his eyes, the rapid-fire questions he'd thrown at me. He was still living in the world before, a world of peace and predictable chaos. He had no idea what had happened.

  Oh, my God.

  The thought hit me like a physical blow, a sudden, cold panic that froze the blood in my veins. Thomas didn't have the mark. He was a stray.

  My hands trembled, dropping a half-folded shirt. I ran to the living room, grabbing my phone from the small end table. I dialed the secure line to the safe house where Edwin had insisted Thomas stay. It rang once, twice, three times, and then went to a dead signal. My heart sank. Edwin wouldn't have left him alone without telling me. Where was he?

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  I dialed Edwin's private comms line, a number I had been given for emergencies only. It rang once, twice...

  "Hello?" Edwin's voice was crisp, but there was a deep weariness beneath it.

  "Edwin! Thank God," I said, my voice fast and breathless with relief. "Thomas… he doesn't have the mark."

  "Yeah, I know," he said, his tone flat. "He's been unconscious. I was gonna…"

  "Well, he woke up!" I interrupted, the words tumbling over each other. "And now he's gone. I don't know where he went."

  A beat of silence hung on the line, heavy with disbelief. "He's what?" Edwin's voice was no longer tired. It was sharp with panic. "Sophie, he's what?!"

  "Gone!" I said, my voice cracking.

  "Find him!" Edwin yelled into the phone, the sound echoing through the speaker. "Go find him now! If the police find him without a mark, they'll take him straight to Gaulet!"

  My eyes, wide with fear, fell on the small television screen in the corner of the room. The news broadcast was playing on a loop, the anchor's face cold and professional. The chyron beneath him read: STRAY WANTED. SEEN RUNNING OUT OF TOWN BUT STILL ON THE LOOSE. ALL RESIDENTS KEEP AN EYE OUT. CONTACT LOCAL POLICE IF SEEN.

  The image on the screen was a grainy, low-quality picture of a bewildered man, his face a perfect match for the man I had just met. Thomas.

  The phone slipped from my trembling fingers and clattered to the floor, the static from the line a high-pitched scream. I didn't think. I didn't hesitate. I just ran out the door, the laundry forgotten, the only thought in my mind to find him before they did.