He sits hunched over with his hands together on his knees, which have stopped shaking at the sight of me. He's wearing fancy clothes I've never seen him in before: a shiny navy blue suit, the jacket unbuttoned to reveal a white button down beneath it, and a loose gold tie hanging between his thighs. His sunshine eyes smile at me first.

He springs to his feet, and I drop Frankenstein on the table by the door. Neither of us say a word. I'm angry and confused, but as much as I want to yell at him, all I can think to say to break the silence is, "We were born for each other."

His eyes fill with tears, and he sighs in relief, despite the accusatory tone in my voice. We were born for each other, so where were you? I want to say.

"You saved my life," he says. "You saved all of us at the bunker." He steps closer, and lifts his strong, tan hands to my face. His thumbs brush lightly over my skin, which still stings with sensitivity. But I don't stop him. I've waited months to feel his touch again, even if I'm angry.

"You're burned. How do you feel? I can get you more ointment if it hurts."

He turns to head into the adjoining bathroom before I can answer. "I'm fine," I say, and he spins back to face me. His eyes are wide with sadness and guilt, like they always are after one of our fights. But this time there's something else there too. Fear.

"I can't believe you're actually here," he says, and the word 'actually' sparks my anxiety.

"Show me your arms."

He must know what I'm looking for, because he lifts his sleeves and shows me the empty place on his arms where a control pad would be if he were implanted. But his honey brown skin is as it always has been: smooth and clear. I run my hands over his forearms, aching to kiss him again, like I did in the bunker. But I snap out of my daze. I need answers.

"Do you have any idea where they were keeping me?" I ask him. I do my best not to let my voice tremble with anger.

His nostrils flare as he nods. "I'm... I'm sorry didn't get you. I couldn't."

"I'm mad at you," I say, trying my best to fight off the urge to just wrap him in my arms and forgive him. But that would be too easy. He is one of the leaders here, isn't he? He has some explaining to do.

"Why couldn't you get me?" I ask.

"I woke up this morning from the knock out gas. I never meant for you to be in there for three days."

"Three days?" It felt like weeks.

He takes my hand and leads me to sit on the bed. I want to slap him away and yell at him, but our fingers fit so perfectly together, it feels like a crime to untangle them now.

I sit beside him on the gold and cream bed, and finally take a moment to breathe in the room. Burgundy carpet flows beneath my feet, and the color creeps up onto the walls, outlined in cream and gold trim. A crystal chandelier hangs over us with sculpted shards of crystal, like daggers suspended from the fixture's gold arms. The walls are lit with faux golden torches, whose light burns like fire against the red walls.

It's a room of beautiful death.

"We have to get out of here," I say. "How are you one of the leaders?"

He shakes his head. "They need me."

"Well too bad, we're leaving."

"We can't."

"Why?" I ask, frustration heating my cheeks.

He takes a breath. "They told me if I didn't follow through with a project, they would have you killed. I had to sign a contract that I would finish it, or they would take you. I can't leave before it's finished." He squeezes my hand as tears form in his eyes again. "I am so sorry. I had no idea it would get to this point. I thought we would just find one another and leave, go back home."

I finally let my guard down. Daniel isn't a monster, like Gunther. He's still the boy I loved back home. The only change is that it's as if he's aged years in the months we've been apart. There's a somberness to him now, an overall air of defeat. I wonder how he sees me after all this time. I know I'm not the girl he left back home anymore.

I soften the muscles in my face and say, "Me too. We were so naive." A tickle forms in the back of my throat. "But we don't have a home anymore. At least I don't."

"What happened?"

I tell him about the Prowlers and what they did to my house. I tell him about the Deathless, the Immortal, and Declan. Then I tell him about how I was made to look like the mole, about Mom's cancer, and about Dad's escape.

"Will your mom be okay?" he asks.

"Yeah, she's fine. At least, she was when we left. She stayed at the refugee camp, since she would have been my accomplice. I just hope my dad is safe, too."

"Once I'm done with this project, we'll find him, and then we'll find our way back to your mom."

I want to ask him about his parents, but since he hasn't said anything yet, I'm afraid of what his answer might be. I'm not ready to hear any bad news about Eleanor or Ben yet, so instead I ask, "What's your project, anyway?"

"It's a radiation collector. I originally designed it to send a signal to you with the gamma rays, but it didn't actually work like that. What it did was collect gamma radiation and store it, so they want me to set them up in different spots hit by the bombs to pick up excess radiation. They say the detectors can clean the earth, and then we can use the radiation as an energy supply."

"That's amazing," I say, shaking some forced cheer into his shoulder. "No wonder you—we—can't leave."

"Yeah, but... in the wrong hands, it can be used as a weapon. I don't want that, but now I have no choice."

"I'm sorry," I say, more to myself than to him. I should have just run off with Dad. Maybe I could have. Maybe we could have gotten away, and then Gunther and the other leaders wouldn't have any leverage over Daniel.

"Don't be. I should have never sent that transmission. It was so stupid, I just... I was desperate."

I hate seeing him upset, even if I'm still a little upset with him, so I change the subject. "We're together. Now all we need to do is get out of here together." I smile at him, but either he doesn't see it or he can't force a smile in return. Okay, on to a new subject. "So, what's our plan?" I ask.

"There's a party tonight. You'll be able to see what we're up against, and then we can start planning. You'll meet some of the other girls, the other Comforters, too. Make friends with Celia first."

"She's a Comforter?"

"Yeah. Her great aunt was Gabriela, and she's been having a difficult time adjusting to what Gabriela became and what happened to her."

I feel a slight twinge of guilt, though I know I shouldn't. Gabriela wanted Nate to kill me. Still... I can't get the image of her blood-soaked curls out of my mind.

"Great aunt?" I ask, swallowing back my nausea. "Oh, because Gabriela was frozen?"

"Yeah. There's something else about Celia that you should know, too."

"What?"

"Well, all the men are able to have a Comforter if they want, and... she is mine."

My entire body tightens.

"Nothing ever happened," he insists, "but she sleeps in here occasionally. We're just friends." His cheeks redden with embarrassment, and I feel mine do the same. Not from embarrassment, though. From jealousy and anger. "We've been at this estate for a few weeks now, slowly moving things over from the bunker. We knew your army was coming, because Nate and Gabriela kept us posted, so we prepared. While we were here, I chose Celia to be my Comforter. She looked the most afraid. I wanted to help her."

"So, I can't be your Comforter?" I ask.

He shakes his head.

"This is ridiculous! We're basically engaged. Just kick this Celia girl out."

"It's not like that, Isla. It's stored in the drones' programming. The only way to change it is to have two men input their passcodes to switch Comforters."

"So do that. Who is my guy?"

He winces. "It's Mitchell Harper."

"No," I yell, startling even myself. "No, I refuse. You're going to make that trade right now. I can't be around Mitchell."

"I'll ask him. I haven't seen him since I found out that I couldn't just make the change on my own. I've been waiting for you all day."

I want to yell at him for even choosing Celia in the first place, but I'm not exactly innocent either. I guess now's as good a time as any to tell him about Nate kissing me. "Well, I guess there's something I should tell you, too."

"You and Nate kissed."

My heart stops, only for a moment, but I struggle to breathe.

"I was in the room when the President explained that he was implanted, remember?"

How could I have forgotten? He was watching the whole time. He saw how Nate protected me, how he sacrificed his life for me... how I ended his suffering.

My lungs finally fill with air. "It was nothing."

"I know. But you cared about him. I saw it. I saw it even before you came to the bunker."

"What do you mean?"

"After I was taken, I had no idea what would happen to you and your mom. I watched every single Prowler come into the bunker, and I checked every single body to make sure it wasn't either of you. We would get the reports back from Nate on the rebel advancements, and Gunther would make me read over them to find any necessary information. One day, I got a report that said a new girl had joined the biology sector. A girl who was smart and beautiful, and who Nate planned on hooking up with. Your name was at the end of the report, and as soon as I read it, I nearly smashed the computer. Gunther knew and kept me on anyway. He prefers mental torture over physical.

"I had to read the reports about how you and Nate were eating lunch together, and hanging out at night, watching the stars, like we used to do. And how he kissed you, and how you didn't pull away at first, when every single time I wanted to kiss you, you stopped me. I kept thinking that maybe it was me, that you just never wanted me in the first place, and now... honestly, I'm still not sure. I thought a lot about kissing Celia. Just to get back at you, but I knew that wouldn't change anything. I would just be punishing myself. I could never do anything to hurt you."

My entire body burns all over. This time not with anger this and not with fire, but with guilt. Does he think I could hurt him?

"Maybe I didn't pull away from Nate within the first second, but I did. And then I kicked him in the groin. Did it say that in the reports?"

He laughs. It's the first I've heard that sound in months, and it sends warmth coursing through me.

"Did you really?" he asks, and I nod. "No, Nate must have left that part out."

"And did it say in the reports that every time he hit on me, I shut him down. That I told him I was in love with someone else."

"No."

"Those reports were from Nate's perspective. Arrogant Nate. Don't believe everything you read. I never stopped loving you and I never stopped being loyal to you."

He combs his hand through my hair and smiles. "I really missed you. You know that, right?"

I nod. "I missed you too."

Daniel sighs and stands from the bed. "I have to get ready. The party is starting soon, and, in case you couldn't tell, Cooper likes everyone and everything to look proper and fancy here," he says, then rolls his eyes. He turns to enter a bathroom to the right of the bed and begins fixing his outfit in the mirror.

I smile and turn away. Affixed to the red wall in front of me is a strange painting and it catches my eyes. Floating inside an egg-shaped bubble at the center of the painting is a young girl dressed in white, holding her sides and crying. The bubble gives off white and silver light, and as the glow fades around it, the light is interrupted by red and orange fire in the shape of outstretched hands. The more I stare, the more I feel the sting of their heat of my skin.

Daniel emerges from the bathroom, and I break my gaze away from the painting. His tie is straightened, his hair is gelled—he looks old—and he stands by the bed beside me.

"We should get going," he says, holding out his hand to me.

"How do I look?" I ask, taking his hand to lift myself up. "Fancy enough for Cooper?"

"You look gorgeous," he says, and for just a second, everything feels normal again. Like home isn't so far away.

***

Behind the scenes information:

This chapter has probably been the most reworked chapter in the entire book. Isla is incredibly confused at the start of it--about this new place she's in, about Daniel's place within it, about her feelings--and so was I in writing the scene. First I wrote Isla as very angry, then as sad, then as happy, then as relieved (seen more in the other version of this scene posted on Wattpad), and now finally, somewhere between angry and sympathetic. It definitely helps that after finishing the trilogy, I feel like I finally truly know Daniel now. I'm hoping that will carry through this entire book. <3 

Thanks for reading!

-Sarah