He presses his lips against your ear. “Who?” “Ben. He’s with us now.” You pull him away from the speaker and twist your hand out of his grasp. “He followed me to New York.” “Wait, your Watcher? Lena, what the hell is wrong with you?” Rafe turns back to Ben, taking a step toward him. “I’m not reporting to anyone.” Ben doesn’t move. They’re around the same height, but next to Rafe, Ben seems smaller, thinner, his mouth pressed into an uncertain line. He doesn’t look away. The girl appears next to you, along with two boys you don’t recognize. They both have thick watches on their right wrists. One of them is shorter, with a shaved head and a tattoo on the side of his neck, a name in script. The other one is tall and thin with the beginnings of an Afro. His hood is pulled up. You look around to make sure no one is watching. Most people are still dancing, entranced by the music. “He has information that we need,” you say. “He wants to help.” “Why are you defending him?
