"Now it makes sense," I laugh, thinking about his open eyes, his kind words. Why did I think that everyone was done acting? When did I assume that it was okay to listen to him like he actually cared? "You bring me here, tell me what I did wrong and how I screwed you all over, and then," an unladylike cackle escapes my throat, "you try to make me feel like you're doing me a favor by keeping me here." His eyebrows raise, surprised at my outburst. "What? Did you think I would just say 'yes'—"

"Just wait—"

"No, no, you thought I would be happy to help, didn't you? You thought I'd try to make up my mistakes and be your Messenger, but you forgot something." I stand, plant my hands on the desk, and lean forward, forgetting for a moment that he holds all the cards, my life, in his hands. "I was treated like trash, blamed for the attack by those rapists, and saw the way you treat that little boy like a soldier. Why would I help you?"

I expect Kendrick to turn against me and show me the Chief who stared down at me at the trial, who yelled at Cole in the gym, but the Kendrick I see only shrinks at my accusations. It maddens me to see him take it like he knows he deserves it. "If you won't help me, then what about Cole? He relies on the Stingrays. It's his home."

Cole's proud face penetrates my thoughts, but I push it away. "Anything that happens to him is your fault. The best thing you could have done for that boy was give him an education, make him take the Test, give him a better life. Anything less than that is your fault."

Kendrick pinches his lips, "We are his family."

"Sometimes family isn't good enough!" Spit flies from my teeth. The words fly back at me, and I stop cold and compose myself, ignoring Kendrick's stare drilling into me. "I want to go back to my room."

"If we fix this war with the Swordfish, I can bring you back to the OTF." His voice is still soft, almost begging.

"'If" isn't good enough" It wasn't good enough for the ITF, and it's not for me.

Kendrick's door swings open and footsteps approach us. I wait for Kendrick to say anything, but he only stares at me like he has a frog in his mouth. The tension between us breaks when the intruder clears their throat.

Kendrick sighs, "What is it, Colby?"

"There's been some complaints on the East side. The people are saying there have been Swordfish hanging by the markets."

"Hunters?" Kendrick asks.

"The same ones Rayn ran into." Colby replies.

The Swordfish that chased me flashes through my mind, remembering how he moved like a cat about to torture its prey. I remember his knowing smile as he circled me in the street, practically salivating over his soon-to-be kill. He's probably sizing up the people around the market, picking his victims, or...

"Are they here for me?" I cut in.

"No," Colby and Kendrick say. Colby continues, "It wouldn't make sense. You served your purpose for them, and I doubt anyone would risk coming here to kill you."

"Wow thanks," I say with a bitter bite.

"You were the door for them to enact war," Kendrick presses again. "The Hunters are probably just trying to intimidate us or scope out the Eastside."

"Then why send Hunters?" Colby asks.

Kendrick's brow furrows. Colby and Kendrick share a silent look, their minds turning so fast, I swear I can see their foreheads pulsing. I lean into them, waiting to hear their theories, and worrying that Kendrick is right. Maybe they are trying to keep me safe, but if they are, how safe can I be if the Swordfish hunters are creeping in the Territory.

Kendrick notices me and looks between the three of us.

"Colby, can you take her back to her room?"

"You mean Rayn's?" I let my sarcasm poison his innocent question, wanting him to know I am not fooled by our one-on-one.

Kendrick's shoulders still, but he just nobs to Colby. Unlike Rayn, Colby doesn't grab me to escort me back, instead he sweeps his hand toward Kendrick's door. I take the lead and leave the Chief's messy room, feeling his eyes follow me.

Colby is nice enough to not say anything as we walk back. I'm sure he knows why Kendrick was playing nice with me. It makes sense now why Colby was acting weird when he saw me reading the bench, but the idea that no one knows how to read here is insane. How do they keep track of everything, food, weapons, anything? But I think the most awful part of everything is that Ida is from the Stingrays, and Kendrick said they haven't had anyone for years to read for them. I think of how Ida snatched her tablet off the table when it fell out of her purse during lunch, right before Emma surprised me with Jessica. Now thinking about it, I remember clearly what I saw. It was an elementary app for primary students, I remember the new software being advertised in the Innercity, but I didn't think twice of it then—

"We could really use your help, Cassie," Colby says as we stop in front of Rayn's door.

I wait for him to unlock the door for me, but he doesn't. He just stands with an expectant stare. I gesture to the door with an impatient snap of my wrist, but he doesn't move.

"I don't need to explain myself to you." I massage my temples. "And I don't think I need to explain why helping a gang in the Outercity isn't appealing. You hurt people, take from your community, and I can't be apart of that." Not to mention it's treason. It's one thing to be trapped by the Stingrays, but it's another thing to help them in their war politics. Even my mother, someone so composed in the face of criticism, would faint if she heard her daughter joined a gang.

"You don't understand—"

"No, I don't understand, and I won't ever understand."

His forehead wrinkles, "But what if you did? What if we could change your mind about the Stingrays?"

He has the same desperation as Kendrick. I can see the trouble I have caused them through the lines pulling his eyes, and his deflated posture. They aren't what I expected, and they definitely aren't the people I saw the first day I met them. Now, they look defeated. But I still see the Swordfish. I can feel the dead man pulling me into the alley, his hands on me, my panic choking me because I knew what was going to happen. I don't regret sticking the nail through that man's neck. Because the reality is gangs like the Swordfish hurt people. The Stingrays can tell me about how much the Stingrays are family, but what happens when another girl is dragged in an alley? What if it's a drunk Stingray this time?

"I don't think that's possible."

***

"I told them you wouldn't help," Rayn grumbles from her bed.

It takes me a moment to realize that she is actually speaking. Her bored tone is loud in the small squared space. I know I should feel like jumping up and down, finally victorious in making her talk and acknowledge me, but I don't. This time it's my turn to ignore her and crawl in my cot.

I let Kendrick's words finally crash around me, let the realization sink in that I'm not going to the OTF. I'm trapped here. I want to hope Kendrick was lying and believe I can walk out of here without running into the Swordfish Territory, but I can't. I only see Kendrick's open face and pitiful eyes when he told me how much I am screwed. And if what all he said is true, there is one other thing I can't deny.

Ida wasn't blackmailing me.

***

I stare at the ceiling of Rayn's room knowing she has left hours ago when I was sleeping. I think about her in the gym, throwing daggers, running around with death in her eyes. I know I should be doing something, anything, maybe looking for a way to escape. But what's the point? I had already searched Rayn's room the first few days I was here. I looked under the bed and only found her clothes, and I looked under the mattress, in the sheets, through her clothes. But there is nothing in the room, only what is necessary. I even searched through her toiletries, thinking that maybe she was hiding a weapon in the least expecting spot. But again, nothing. It's not like I could jump her even if I did have a weapon. I saw how she handles blades, and she is obviously a better fighter than me. I'm sure she is just looking for an excuse to pop me in the mouth.

My stomach vibrates, grumbling for the poor pieces of food. I try to ignore it and close my eyes, letting it sink in that there is no one coming for me, and no one coming for Andrew. I close my eyes and let my skin relive the night before the Test, when I thought my world was finally falling into place. His fingers sweeping the back of my neck and down my spine. His breath whispering his promise over and over again, the words I have been dying to hear from him for years. His mouth—

My stomach lets out an angry roar, it's rumble shaking my insides.

Groaning, I sit up and rub my eyes. I look around for the food Rayn has left me for breakfast. Usually it is staling by my cot, but today there is nothing. I twist in the cot, looking for the plate, but the ground is nothing but gray cement. Frustration bubbles as I stare at the empty floor. I can picture Rayn eating her meal in the cafeteria with Cole, Kendrick, Colby, and the other Outsiders. They are probably really proud of themselves right about now with their full guts. Did they think they can starve me into being a Messenger? I grit my teeth. Kendrick only confirmed who I know they are.

I let out a huff and shoot from my bed. My feet thunder against the floor, and I slam my hands against the doors.

"Hello?" I yell through the door. My foot thumps the hard wood. Pain erupts from my toes, but I let it fuel my irritation. "If you lock me in here, you can at least feed me!" I press my ear against the door and listen, but as usual, nothing. My stomach slithers down into the bottom of my stomach thinking about the others eating. Maybe they really are trying to starve me into submission. Maybe Kendrick, Cole, and Colby's kindness has blinded me to where I am and how much danger I'm really in.

My chest races as my breathing shallows. Maybe I shouldn't have rejected his proposal so suddenly. I should have drawn out the idea, playing around until I found a way out or found someone to help me.

I rest my forehead on the door and try to hold back the tears that burn behind my eyes. My fists punch the door with as much force as I can muster, but only a pitiful thump sounds. My hand slides down the wood and lands on the knob. I jiggle the door handle roughly, ready to turn the handle until someone comes for me.

Once my hand turns the knob, the solidness underneath me disappears. The door swings open, and I spill out of Rayn's room and into the hallway. My hands catch myself from planting my face into the cement floor.