Trust, for instance. And a very good grandmother.
Ivy extended her hand. Janice took it.
“You’re alive,” Ivy breathed.
The moment her fingers touched the jade, the lights went red. Sirens. But not museum sirens—something deeper, like a building groaning in its sleep.
Ivy hesitated one second—then ran. Because that was their rule. Never get caught together. One always escapes.
“I’ll meet you at the rendezvous. Go.”