Chapter 1

The acceptance letter from MIT lay on my desk, a ticket to a new life, a full-ride scholarship. I'd spent my senior year coding, studying, and pushing myself to the absolute limit for this piece of paper.

My foster father, Rufus Morris, looked at it like it was a piece of trash.

"You're not going," he said, his voice flat. He was a long-haul truck driver, and his hands were thick and calloused from a life on the road.

I looked at him, then at my foster mother, Sylvia. She was wringing her hands, her face pale.

"What do you mean I'm not going?" I asked, keeping my voice steady.

"I got you something better," Rufus announced, a greasy smile spreading across his face. "A tech internship on the West Coast. A friend of mine, Barney, set it up. Pays big money, real-world experience. MIT will still be there when you're done."

He was lying. I knew it.

Because I had lived this day before.

Sylvia rushed forward, her eyes wide with a genuine panic that I knew was real, even if the reason she gave for it was fake.

"No, Rufus! He can't go! I had a dream, a premonition. A terrible accident, a bus crash on the highway. He can't go!"

Rufus shoved her aside, not hard, but with enough force to make her stumble. "Don't be stupid, Sylvia. You and your crazy feelings. You want him to be stuck here in Queens forever? This is his chance."

They were both lying. Sylvia's "premonition" was a script. Rufus's "opportunity" was a death sentence.

In my last life, I believed them. I argued, I fought, but they forced me. That "internship" was a front for an organ trafficking ring. They drugged me, held me captive in a warehouse, and I died on a cold metal table.

This time, I was ready.

I faked compliance. "Okay," I said quietly. "If it's that good of an opportunity, I'll go."

I locked myself in my room. I heard Rufus laughing downstairs, gloating about how he had me wrapped around his finger. I heard Sylvia crying.

An hour later, I came out with my bag packed.

Rufus was beaming. Sylvia looked horrified. "Ethan, please," she whispered, her voice trembling.

As a last, desperate attempt, she pointed to the new laptop on my desk, the one she'd bought me as a graduation gift. "You have to give that back. If you're going to this new job, they'll give you one. We need the money."

Her last-ditch effort. In my past life, I clung to that laptop. I fought for it. It was my only link to the world I was leaving behind.

This time, I just unplugged it and handed it to her without a word.

The look of shock on her face was worth more than any computer. She expected a fight, a tantrum. My easy compliance scared her more than my refusal.

Downstairs, a private shuttle van was waiting at the curb, just as I remembered. The driver, a man with a scarred eyebrow, and his partner in the passenger seat were the same men who'd driven me to my death.

Another kid was already in the van. Jennifer Chavez, another scholarship winner. I remembered her, too. Scared, trusting, and ultimately, a pawn.

She was sitting in the back, by the window. The worst seat. The one they could control.

I got in and immediately "tripped" over my own feet, stumbling hard into the boy sitting across from her.

"Hey, watch it!" he yelled, shoving me.

"Sorry, man, my bad," I said, grabbing the seat next to Jennifer. "I get motion sick if I'm not in the middle."

The driver's partner turned around, annoyed. "Just sit down and shut up."

I sat, now in a strategic position away from the window, away from their easy reach. Jennifer gave me a small, nervous smile.

I didn't smile back. The game had already begun.