THIRTY-FIVE CALLUM I WOKE THE NEXT MORNING TO WREN ASLEEP AGAINST MY CHEST, her arms tucked up underneath her chin. She was wearing my shirt, which I’d wrapped around her when her arms had begun to prick with goose bumps. She’d buttoned it crooked, and I could see the tip of her scars, the first few of the metal staples holding the skin together. I tightened my arms around her and pressed my lips to the top of her head. I hadn’t slept so well or so long in weeks—not since I was a human—and I blinked in the dark room. Was it too much to hope that everyone would leave us alone and I could spend the day right here? Murmured voices trickled in from the hallway and I sighed inwardly. Of course it was. HARC was still out there and, thanks to Micah, we could already be too late to save the Reboots in the Rosa facility. Wren stirred, and a smile crossed her lips before she even opened her eyes. She snuggled closer to me so her face was in my neck. “Good morning,” she mumbled. “Good morning.”
