Chapter 32 · The Anchor Holds

"Mark." Amy grabbed his wrist. "Look at your hand."

The scar across his palm split open without shedding blood. White-gold light leaked through the cut and climbed toward his wrist—the same light pulsing along Daniel's arm.

"Forty-five seconds," said the voice in Mark's head. It wasn't his. Flat. Mechanical. Unconcerned with whether he survived.

Daniel knelt in the center of the room, both arms stretched out. Two glowing lines on his skin had already gone dark. The third ran from his shoulder to his palm, bright enough to bleach the walls.

Amy kept one hand on Daniel's shoulder. Her eyes stayed on Mark.

"I'm staying," Mark said.

Lucas jerked his head up. "What?"

"Someone has to hold the door. That's me."

"No." Amy's fingers tightened around Daniel's shoulder. "You don't get to make that call alone."

"Thirty seconds."

Mark lifted his burning hand. "Daniel's the map. Amy, you've got your sister. Lucas, you've got a family you're too scared to name."

Lucas's jaw locked.

"I've got a support group I never meant to run," Mark said. "So move when I tell you."

Daniel sucked in a breath and convulsed.