The person drags me from the chamber, and back into the Captain's dining room. I kick my legs and scream underneath their hold. I try to bite the person's hand, but their grip on my mouth is so tight, I can barely move my lips. I try frantically to hit them, but their free arm quickly restrains me.

The person drags me to the couch and throws me against the cushions. That's when their hand returns to my mouth, and in the moonlight, I can clearly see who it is: Alexander.

I try to scream for help, but his hand still presses tightly against my lips.

He growls, "Shut up, shut up!"

My heart is pounding, but I catch my breath long enough to stop making any noise. Alexander lifts his hand from my face.

"Why are they frozen?" I yell, and Alexander returns his hand to my mouth.

He whispers, "Keep your voice down, Isla. Please."

I nod my head, disarmed by his sudden softness, and he slowly removes his hand again. He lifts himself from the kneeling position in front of me and sits in one of the armchairs, lifting the goggles from his eyes. Even in the moonlight I can tell how dark they are, like they are actually chasms down which his past has fallen. They remind me of Declan's eyes. They've seen more than they'd like to.

"Two of us freeze ourselves each night, while the third person stays outside of the chambers to undo the process in the mornings. We take turns. It's an adapted use of the cryogenic chambers."

"Why?" I nearly shout.

He puts his finger to his mouth to remind me to keep my voice down. "By freezing our cells, we are able to slow the aging process, so we can live longer. It's self-preservation."

"You people are sick."

He ignores me and continues, "What did you see?" I furrow my brows in confusion. "On the table, what did you see?"

"Why should I tell you anything?" I ask, more bitterly than I intended.

He nods to himself. "You saw the list of survivors, then?"

I want to remain strong and keep quiet like Declan told me to, but my resolve breaks. "Why wouldn't you tell me? Why wouldn't you tell Declan about Hugh?"

"The same reason we asked Mitchell to program your mother to die in each immersion."

"Why would you ask Mitchell to program my mom to die?" I ask, raising my voice.

He puts his finger to his lips again, and I have the sudden urge to smack it away. Don't tell me to shush now, I think.

"Because you become a weapon when you're angry. We are trying to condition you to feel angry during the attack, so that you can be trusted to get to the President."

"I'm not a dog. You can't train me," I say.

"I know," he says, turning his eyes to the floor in shame.

There's so much about this I don't understand. "If you know, then why don't you take me off President-killer duty? Why is it so important that it's my job? Anyone is perfectly capable of—"

"—we are using you," he says matter-of-factly, like I shouldn't be offended. Like I shouldn't use one of the moves Nate taught me to beat this man up.

Alexander shakes his head in the apparent realization that he's crossed the line. "I'm sorry to put it that way, but it's true. We knew if we told you about your family you wouldn't remain focused in the attack. You may abandon your duty and search for them instead. We've been watching you, Isla, and we've observed that while you are motivated by fear, you are more motivated by love for your family. We couldn't risk it."

"Who is we?" I ask, my voice shaking.

"Winston, Phoebe, and myself."

"And Declan? Why not tell him about Hugh?"

"Declan needs to stay behind in case anything should happen. We need someone from our team with the camp."

I cross my arms. "What is to stop us from 'abandoning our duties' now? Why shouldn't I just run off once I'm in the bunker?" I ask.

My heart seizes at my sudden boldness. I should not have said that. I should have kept that to myself to ensure my place on the way to the bunker. But then Alexander surprises me. "Honestly, perhaps you should," he says.

I'm stunned. "Why?"

He sighs deeply. "Human beings have a horrible history of accepting the losses of the many in exchange for the progress of the few. Then we point to all we've lost, and we deny our responsibility."

"Alexander...."

"Like I said, we are using you. This task is high risk, and should you lose your life in the process, you could be a martyr for the cause. You are well-liked, you're a young survivor who knows the struggles others have faced, and you're an advocate for peace. People would empathize with your desire to rescue your family, and they would mourn your loss. It would motivate all the refugees to fight with us against the government."

I stare at him with wide eyes. "A martyr?" I ask.

"I apologize. We should have been honest with you from the beginning."

His smug apology disguised as an earnest confession makes me realize the truth behind all of this: They only care about themselves. I am the one sent to kill the President because if I die in the process, it won't matter. To them, I'm just a survivor girl. A stupid, angry survivor girl whose boyfriend is conveniently trapped in the very place the leaders need her to die. That's probably why Phoebe is so suspicious of me: I'm too good to be true.

My stomach twists in disgust.

"I'm going to be sick," I mumble as my mind processes everything that Alexander has told me.

"I can understand why you are upset."

"Oh, can you?" I ask sarcastically. "Why would you even tell me all of this? Doesn't this ruin your little plan?"

"I couldn't live with it anymore," he says. "I needed you to know. I never felt right about it. That's why I volunteered to accompany you in the attack. You see, Phoebe, Winston, and I... we aren't really Deathless. I mean, we are, yes, we are the leaders. But the goal of our organization, the feeling behind it... we don't have it. You do. You should be one of the ones coming home. I'd like to help you do that."

"Why do you want to help me?"

"You and I have similar goals for the attack. You want to return your family to safety, and I want to return Gunther to safety. If I know Gunther, he will be close to the President, so you and I will go together."

"Why do you care about Gunther? He's one of the bad guys."

"He's a good man, I know it. I just need some time to remind him."

"Whatever," I say, standing up. "I'm not risking my life so you can have a reunion, and I can't leave the Immortal, so you better actually protect me. 'Cause if something happens to me, you'll have to deal with my mom and my dad. And they didn't hide from the apocalypse like you. They survived it. You don't even want to imagine what they could do to the people who killed their only daughter."

"Understood. To be clear, we don't want you dead, we obviously would prefer it if you survived. It's just—"

"—it's just that if I died, it wouldn't matter."

"No, of course not," he stutters as I walk away.

I reach the door and turn back. Alexander slouches in the shadows, staring at me in shame.

"Every life matters," I say. "If anyone could understand that, I thought it would be you people."

"Isla," he says, and I pause before leaving him with his secrets. He clears his throat. "It would be best if you didn't tell Winston or Phoebe what I've told you. We wouldn't want them to separate us in the attack."

"Winston is supposed to be with Mom in the attack. Will she safe with him?"

"Your mother is a valuable addition to the Deathless cause, as are you. You will both be as protected as possible."

I scoff. I wish I could think of something really stinging to say to him before I leave, but I can't. I'm too hurt and scared and... what is this third feeling? Hopeful? Bittersweet?

No matter what happens to me, Dad and Daniel are alive, but Eleanor and Ben are gone. I don't want to think about it anymore, and as much as I want to burst into Mom's room to deliver the good news about Dad, the tears that fill my eyes as soon as I leave the Captain's dining room make my eyes swell to the point that I can't keep them open.

I escape into my room, fall on the bed, and cry until I fall asleep.