Nevermore: The Final Maximum Ride Adventure (Maximum Ride 8)

Dylan swallowed. “I saw something. In the sky,” he said, breathing heavily, trying to speak coherently. “I don’t know how to explain. We have to get to the caves, get all the kids out. Now.”

I shook my head. “It’s okay. We know about the plague and the 99% Plan. This place was built to protect us. We’re safe.”

“Even if no one else is,” Fang muttered from behind me.

“None of that matters!” Dylan shrieked. His eyes were wild, crazed. He looked like he was about to jump out of his skin. “This isn’t a plague. Not even close.”

I put a hand on his arm to try to calm him. After everything we’d been through, it still hurt to see him like this. “You… saw something in the sky,” I said gently, trying to make sense of what he was saying. “Did it have wings? Was it a jet? A flyboy?”

“No, nothing like that.” Dylan shook his head. “It’s something… big. And it’s moving too fast for me to clearly see what it is. But it’s headed this way.”

Fang walked to the window and peered out. I looked at him questioningly, but he shook his head. “Sky’s totally clear. The leaves are still—there’s not even any wind. Are you sure you didn’t just see a shooting star, buddy?” Fang asked dryly.

Dylan’s eyes hardened, his jaw tightening. “It was no everyday shooting star.”

I crossed my arms over my chest, thinking.

I glanced back at Fang and saw his eyes flashing threateningly through his curtain of dark hair. He was rational to a fault. My real “other half.”

And then there was Dylan, in front of me, looking all broken and insane and like he really needed me.

“Do you not hear what I’m telling you?” Dylan asked in frustration. “Max, I was created to protect you.”

“Protect me?” I bristled. “I have spent years leading this flock, making split-second decisions based on well-honed instincts,” I growled. “You have been alive for, what, a minute? And you’ve spent the past few days having a well-documented meltdown. Now, after almost murdering Fang, you have the nerve to show up here, to insist that we follow you because something weird is about to just… fall from the sky?” I was hitting a fever pitch. “Who do you think needs protection more, Dylan, me or you?”

His eyes were pleading, but I wasn’t moving. “It’s coming now,” he said. “Please.”

I sighed. “Dylan, just… go.”

“Fine, stay here. I’m getting the rest of the kids to the caves. I’m not having their deaths on my head.” Dylan sighed sadly. “I know you don’t trust me anymore, Max. But I’ve never lied to you, not once, and though it might seem like I’ve done some questionable things, I’m not crazy. You have to know that everything I’ve ever done, I did for you.”

I cringed as he turned his back on us, his shoes crunching over the broken glass.

“And Max,” Dylan called from the doorway, “after I get everyone to safety, I’ll be back for you. Even if it means dying with you out here. That’s the only way I want my life to end. With you.”

81

“WHO DOES THAT guy think he is?” Fang exploded after Dylan was out of sight.

“Seriously!” I was as cranky as a wet cat and pacing furiously. “What the heck does he think he’s doing barging into my house”—I gestured dramatically—“in the middle of—” I locked eyes with Fang. He raised an eyebrow, and his smirk sent a buzz through my whole body. “In the middle of the night. Trying to freak everyone out?”

I yanked an upturned table back over and slammed the door Dylan had left open.

“Max,” Fang said cautiously. When I turned around, there was uncertainty on his face. “Do you think he might’ve really seen something? His vision is crazy sharp, isn’t it?”

“Oh, please,” I huffed. “It’s not that great. And I don’t know if he’s short-circuiting or what, but he’s clearly not the brightest bulb right now.”

Fang nodded and bent to right an overturned chair. One of the reasons Fang and I work so well together? He keeps his mouth shut when I’m in fire-breathing dragon mode. Unlike Blondie down there.

At that point, I’d almost gotten used to Dylan strapping us in for his own personal roller-coaster ride of highs and lows, complete with lingering nausea at the whole rotten experience. This, however, was on a whole new level.

I was made to protect you, he’d said, his sea-blue eyes begging me to trust him, still full of that same fierce drive he’d shown when I’d taught him to fly, not so very long ago. But that dopey innocence, which had seemed almost endearing then, was nowhere in sight now.

I shook my head. I couldn’t afford to be sentimental. Not anymore. Sentimentality is for suckers. And a sucker, I ain’t.

Harden your heart.

Done. My heart is a freaking diamond. Only less glittery.