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He’s right, I think, glancing over at the building as we pass. Wide glass windows make up the walls of the Child Care facility. I drag my feet when I’m passing the building—a route my father surely chose with intention. I don’t care about his conniving, or how I’m sure he thinks parading me in front of her facility every day is a punishment. I’ve caught a glimpse of her once or twice. Her blonde hair is hard to miss—her gorgeous face.

That’s all I need. A glimpse. Something to tell me she’s okay.

“Why are you doing this to yourself?” he asks, voice low and close. It comes with the sensation of hard metal pressed into my back. “She’s not yours, and the longer it takes for you to understand that, the longer he’ll keep you here.”

Erik probably believes there is a way out of Reeducation. That Anex’s pathway from the Fallen back to the fold is possible. It’s not. There are no second chances. No test we can pass, and I’m paraded through the community like this, every day, as a reminder to everyone of what happens when you cross our great and infallible leader.

My eyes linger on the building, but the windows are clear. I push aside the nagging worry of what could happen to her without my protection—without the others.

Even if I couldn’t have her, I’d be okay if he left her with one of my friends. But no, that wouldn’t have been painful enough. It’s also not what he wants. I see it now. My father has wanted Imogene from the start. Probably as revenge against her mother for leaving, but I know it’s more than that. Imogene is special. Beautiful. So fucking strong.

The men in our family clearly have a type.

The walkie-talkie on Erik’s belt crackles as we continue down the path. There’s no speed in my step. Once work is complete, I’m forced to stay in my room until the next morning. Room is an exaggeration. Closet? Cell? My food is delivered to me. My toilet is two feet from my bed. There’s no window. But I do hear the cries at night. The Fallen as they go through Corrections. As they’re tested and fail.

Some nights I even hear his voice and I know he’s down there, looking to see who he can break next. Who he can use, abuse, and worst of all, sell.

Erik pauses, turning his head to speak into the device. His eyes flick to mine, then away, but not before I see a shift in them.

“Understood. We’re on the way.” He clips the walkie-talkie back to his belt, his movements hurried.

“Everything okay?” I ask, the smallest hope that the day I’ve been waiting for has come. This underlying hope that my brothers will return for us. Elon and Levi are out there, and I know they’ll fight for us. It’s just taking longer than I’d hoped.

“Everything’s fine,” he says, lifting his chin to the east. Toward the Main House. “You’re not going to your room… not yet.”

My hope sinks, but I’m curious. My days have been a strict routine since my father put me to work. Rise at dawn. Work ‘til dusk. Locked up overnight.

“Where are we going?”

His jaw tightens and his hand rests on the weapon attached to his side. Like he’s afraid he’ll have to use it. “To see your father.”

Anex sits in his chair—what the hell, let’s call it what it really is—histhrone, as if we’ve seen one another since he took my mate from me and banished my friends from Serendee.

He’s got that same smug expression on his face, his hair slightly disheveled, and a knowing glint in his eye. It’s all a con. I know it well. He’s the one that taught me the methods of persuasion. While other dads were teaching their kids how to play ball, he was refining my skills in manipulation. In seduction.

I can get just about anyone to hand over their money, their clothes, theirpussy, but most of all, their integrity. Just like my father.

He waits patiently, Erik bowing before him and touching his forehead in reverence. Anex’s crystal blue eyes, another matching trait passed down, dart from the guard to me. He wants me to honor and respect him? Fuck no.

Finally, he says, “I see your attitude hasn’t adjusted.”

“By plowing fields? Is that the outcome you expected?”

“I thought maybe some manual labor would set you straight. Show you how entitled I’ve let you become.”

I sigh. Every muscle in my body screams with exhaustion. I just want to go to my room, eat dinner, and sleep until the day repeats itself. I’m too tired to even jerk off. “What do you want?”

“A father can’t check up on his son?” he asks, waving over one of the girls standing by the wall. I scanned their faces the instant we walked in, both hopeful and horrified that Imogene may be one of them. She’s not. These girls are young. Probably underage. Children, I assume, of members of our community, unless he’s started recruiting at the local high school.

The girl that steps forward is waif thin, dark circles under her eyes. She carries over a tray of fresh fruit, her arms shaking from lack of strength. Disgust builds in the back of my throat. No, this one has been here for a while, probably grew up in Serendee, but somehow managed to offend my father.

How did this happen to my community? When?

Serendee—my father—he wasn’t always like this.

Or has it? Hashe?

“I’m sure you have your methods of keeping track of me.” I tilt my head toward Erik, who shadows me most of the day. “It’s not like you trust me.”