The Edited

Prologue

Quinn Avery held tight to her conviction, slipping through the city streets as if her feet were her only mode of transportation. It was a necessary sacrifice--her feet on the ground--to avoid calling unwanted attention her way. Each step, the slap of her shoes hitting the wet concrete, grounded her in the decision to be unrelenting, to push forward with their pursuits. Her feet were moving in the right direction, even though some people disagreed.

The morning was dreary and misty, appropriate for Quinn's mood and the state of the world. Evan had refused to speak to her today, turning a blind eye like he did every time Quinn left to meet with the group. But the conviction in her heart was unmovable. His was as well. And for once in their lives, their beliefs had their stubborn feet planted on opposing sides. If she were being honest, it broke her heart. But, with so many things in regard to Evan, she was not being honest with herself or anyone else.

She pulled up the hood of her sweatshirt before tucking her hands deeper into the pockets as she weaved between puddles on the sidewalk.  After a glance left and right, Quinn darted across the last four lane street before the city blocks gave way to a sprawling, suburban neighborhood. A quick cut through an alleyway, and she would be at Marissa's house. The place where plans were being made. The place where she could be with others of like-minded beliefs—going into hiding was the last thing that they wanted to do, and it was time to fight.

Just the thought made Quinn's heart thump in anticipation. She swung her legs over the short fence surrounding Marissa's property and practically skipped to the door. Four knocks delivered in perfect rhythm, and the door swung open.

"Why are you here?" Marissa's soft voice drifted from the hooded figure in the shadows behind the cracked door, requiring identification before permitting entry.

"Every Edited lost to the Opposition is another friend turned enemy." Quinn recited the secret pass phrase in her dreams. Not only had Marissa made this the code phrase, ensuring the entrant's mind was still her own, but it epitomized their new way of life. Marissa stressed its significance at every opportunity.

Marissa opened the door wider, pushing the hood off her ash brown hair as she stepped aside to let Quinn through. The house was shrouded in darkness, save for the light that shined from the kitchen, where the smell of fresh coffee beckoned. "No Kristen today?"

Quinn shrugged and waved her hand as if the absence required no further explanation.

"Jake will be disappointed. He's trying to hack some group he thinks could be a front for the Opposition. I'm not optimistic that he's right. Or that his hacking skills can get us access." Her brows raised. A hint of smirk graced her face as she led Quinn to the kitchen.

"I'll set our resident computer whiz on it later. That is if she steps away from her research before I pass out for the night."

The warm kitchen had been the backdrop for so many meetings as of late—all of them huddled around the bar or using the emptied breakfast nook to practice fighting both with and without their abilities.

"Hey Jake." Quinn grabbed a mug and poured a steaming cup from the coffee pot.

He nodded hello, too engrossed in his work for words.

A scalding sip of the dark roasted, bitter liquid settled Quinn's stomach. She flopped onto a barstool, placing her feet on another. One cup of the strong stuff, then she could function.

"Is manipulation practice off the table for today?" Quinn asked. When the others in the room treated her inquiry as rhetorical, she added, "This is supposed to be our last meeting." The words left Quinn's lips whinier than she'd intended, but it felt justified.