Zoe POV

I look at Noah. Then at James. Then back at Noah.

"What," I say, and the word comes out flat and genuinely bewildered, the specific quality of a person whose brain has received a signal it doesn't know how to process. I open my mouth again and nothing follows for a moment. "What do you mean he's— what does that even mean? What are you talking about?"

James is standing very still in the doorway. Noah hasn't moved either. The two of them are occupying the small cell ...