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“You know we’ve got cameras down here, right?” calls a voice I’ve never heard before, echoing from above us.

“You can put away the scope, Samuel,” James calls back. “Everything is fine.”

There’s a moment of hesitation. “You’ve been down here a long time, man. You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah,” he says. “We’re coming up right now.”

“Great,” says the guy named Samuel. “I’ll wait.”

James sighs, then turns to me, his eyes roving over my face in a quick, heated inspection. “You okay?” he asks quietly.

Two words, like a lead pipe to a pane of glass.

I’d like to curl up inside his shirt and rest. I want to be dropped in his pocket and left to sleep. I want to stand close to him just to be near him. Delusion has consumed me.

“I’m okay,” I say.

He slides a hand around my waist like it’s something we’ve always done, gently guiding me forward, ahead of him, toward the ladder. Then he lifts me into the air like it’s nothing, holding me up until I find my footing on the rungs.

“You okay?” he asks again.

“I’m okay,” I say.

As we approach the top I see the vague outline of a man looming overhead, boots thudding as he paces the landing. He watches me closely as I ascend, his rifle trained on my body at all times.

I pull myself up, deeply aware that I’m not wearing underwear as I disengage inelegantly from the ladder, bare legs scraping slightly against the concrete floor. I get to my feet and Samuel catches me by my collar, body-slamming me against the wall so hard the pain in my ribs flares suddenly back to life. Stars explode behind my eyes. He wrenches my arms behind my back.

I hear James shout “What the hell are you doing?” and Samuel laughs, confused, like the question is a joke, and by the time James hauls himself onto the landing I feel the cold slide of metal against my wrists, the click of bolts fitting together. I’m wearing a pair of heavy manacles that hum with controlled electricity and I feel the static in my teeth, the back of my knees. There’s a metallic taste in my mouth rising by the minute, making me nauseous.

I capture the basics of Samuel’s face as he pulls open the heavy exit door—brown skin, lighter brown eyes—then lose my footing as he shoves me into a blinding hallway, lights buzzing overhead. I stumble forward, unbalanced, and catch myself against a smooth, cold wall, my mind growing fuzzy. My tongue feels rough. Low-level electric currents are coursing through me, fizzing under my skin. I push off the wall, still struggling with my feet when James rushes up behind us saying, “Hey, c’mon, that’s not necessary—”

Samuel holds up a hand to slow him down.

“Bro, are you feeling okay?” he says, and I can hear the frown in his voice.

“What? Yeah, I’m fine—I’m just saying you don’t have to handle her like that—”

“Like what?” Samuel laughs again. “Like a criminal? Like someone who literally disemboweled a man tonight?”

If James responds I can hardly hear it. I’m sinking into myself again, retreating inward, walls rebuilding. I try to push my mind free of this electric cage, but the static is inside my nose, then crackling in my throat, searing behind my eyes, blinding and blinding —

A strangled scream escapes me and I lose my footing again, slamming into another wall before falling to my knees.

“ Turn it down ,” James explodes. “Don’t you see how small she is? You’re overloading her body—”

The electricity retreats almost at once, returning me slowly to myself. I feel wrung out suddenly. My lungs tight, my mouth dry. My bones trembling.

Then hands on me, under me, and I’m in the air, my cheek against his chest, eyelids fluttering. My blood is fizzing, carbonated. I’m trying to wake up.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” James is saying angrily. “You were torturing her—”

“That was the default setting!” Samuel shoots back. “I’m treating her just like every other piece of shit who comes through here. You’re the one who’s clearly lost his mind. I came out there to help you—”

“I didn’t ask for your help,” he snaps. “Where the hell is Warner?”

“Put her down,” says a cold, familiar voice.

My eyes flicker open. Fear forces me back into my skin, adrenaline pushing my heart to work harder. James slides me carefully out of his arms, helping me stand, but he doesn’t remove his hand from my lower back. I look up into the bright, blinding light, my eyes tearing slightly. We’re at the edge of a common space, an interior quadrangle that anchors the multistory building. I count floors, stunned by the dimensions and the clean white lines. A few people mill about on every open level, moving from place to place.

“Step away from her,” says Warner, moving into my sightline. He’s looking at me, not James, when he says this, and the fury in his green eyes is so cold—so intensely palpable—I’m beginning to understand his reputation.

This man was raised by The Reestablishment. Forged in blood. Just like me.

James doesn’t move. “I need some time,” he says.

Warner turns toward his brother like a rising tide, the movement slow and powerful. “Excuse me?”

“I need more time. I have to talk to her.”

“Your days of talking to her are over. What happens to her from here on out is no longer your concern. Go home.”

“What are you talking about—”

“Go home, James.”

“Look, I know it’s been a crazy night, but there are some developments I need to discuss with you—”

“Developments?” Warner echoes, astonished. “In the time it took you to walk her from a morgue to a penitentiary? Let me guess.” Warner levels me with a look so black it borders on hatred. “She’s opened up to you. Shown remorse. Given you just enough information to make you think you’re special without telling you anything at all.”

“Stop,” James says angrily. “Don’t do this. Everyone around here thinks they have me figured out—”

“I thought she told you her parents were dead.”

At this, I inwardly flinch, and James stiffens beside me.

“Tell him,” Warner says, addressing me directly for the first time. It surprises me how difficult it is to hold his undivided attention. There’s a steel in him so severe it’s disorienting. “Tell him the truth. Are your parents dead?”

I have no idea whether my father is still alive.

Still, the fact that Warner has somehow managed to figure out who I am—that he’s managed to unearth unsavory details of my family history—does not come as a great surprise. After all, my father abandoned his family in order to pledge his allegiance to him .

To this man standing before me.

“My mother is dead,” I say. “My father is dead to me.”

This earns me something like a smile. “Take her away,”

Warner says. “Tell Hugo we’ll begin in the morning.”

I go suddenly still.

Warner is watching me for a reaction, and I realize only then that I’ve been expertly outmaneuvered.

Hugo.

I don’t resist when I’m hauled away by rough hands, my mind surging with panic.

Surveillance is security, Rosa. Only criminals need privacy.

“Hey— Wait—”

But, Papa, I don’t want strangers to watch me all the time—that sounds awful—

James takes a step toward me on instinct, falling back only when his brother claps him, hard, on the shoulder.

Sometimes it doesn’t matter what we want, Rosa. Sometimes we don’t know what’s best for us. Sometimes a child wants to touch the fire just to feel it burn. If we want to protect the child, we have to teach him to obey.

I haven’t seen my father in ten years.

Hugo, sweetheart, can you ask Rosa to come here, please? She keeps ripping the blossoms off my roses—

I look back at James as they take me away, my thoughts unspooling in alarm. His eyes are burning, ablaze with feeling, and I try to hold on to this image of him, committing the details to memory. I don’t even think to struggle as I’m shoved forward, then dragged around a corner. This is not the time for action. There are dark days ahead of me. Long nights awaiting me. I need a place to rest my head, a place to sort my thoughts, a place to make my plans.

Prison will do just fine.