Evan's POV
I smell them before I see them.
It cuts through everything, through her scent that's got me stupid, through the salt and the diesel of the harbor, a thread of something that doesn't belong. Sweat. Leather. Cigarette smoke gone stale in clothing. And under it, faint but there, the chemical tang I've been smelling around the crew's places for weeks now, the one that clings to the fighters after Will's done with them.
Someone from the crew is out here. Watching. On Anna's road, in the dark, near her house.
"Get inside," I tell her again, and I hear how it comes out, hard and flat, and I don't have room to soften it. "Now. Please."
She doesn't move. Of course she doesn't. She plants her feet and lifts that stubborn chin and her eyes have gone gold, angry, and even now, even wit
