DR. DAVIDOFF DECLARED THAT a “splendid idea,” meaning he had no clue I’d figured out that Tori was the one who’d tipped them off to our escape. As for getting a better look at the place—that plan didn’t work so well. Her cell turned out to be only a few doors from mine.

The doctor ushered me in, then locked the door. When the bolt slid home, I inched back, ready to scream at the first sign of trouble. At my last up-close-and-personal encounter with Victoria Enright, she’d knocked me out with a brick, tied me up, and left me alone in a pitch-black basement crawl space. So I could be forgiven if that locked door made me nervous.

The only light in the room came from the bedside clock. “Tori?”

A figure rose from the mattress, her short hair a halo of spikes. “Huh. I guess if stern lectures don’t work, they can always resort to torture. Tell them I surrender, as long as they take you away. Please.”

“I came to—”

“Gloat?”

I stepped toward her. “Sure. I came to gloat. Get a good laugh at you, locked in a cell, just like I am down the hall.”

“If you say ‘we’re in this together,’ I’m going to hurl.”

“Hey, we wouldn’t be in this at all if it wasn’t for you telling the nurses on us. Only you didn’t count on getting locked away yourself. That’s what we call dramatic irony.”

A moment of silence. Then she gave a harsh laugh. “You think I ratted you out? If I’d known you were running away, I would have packed your bag.”

“Not if I was leaving with Simon.”

She swung her legs over the side of the bed. “So in a fit of jealous rage, I spill your plans, getting you and the guy who rejected me sent away to a mental hospital? What movie is that from?”