When they’d gotten back to the Stone that morning, Wells had dragged Graham off to the kennels, just as he’d been asked to do. But clearly Graham’s insubordination had put the Protectors on alert, because they immediately whisked Wells to a cramped, isolated room. They’d slammed the door and left him in there for hours. Based on the hunger rumbling in his stomach, it was at least late afternoon by now.

Sitting in the dark, alone for the first time since they’d arrived four days ago, Wells had finally come to a realization: They couldn’t afford to wait for the right time to escape. There would never be a right time. These people were unpredictable, and that’s what made them so dangerous. He had to talk to the other recruits, the people who had been captured from other places, and try to convince some of them to rise up against the Protectors with them. It was their best chance. It was their only chance.

Now he just needed to get out of this damn room.

His eyes had adjusted to the darkness, so it was painful when the door finally creaked open and Oak walked in, holding a lantern.

He’d seen hatred on Oak’s face before. He knew it well, that paper-thin veneer of calm the Protector wore, covering a deep well of violence underneath. But the way Oak was staring at the ground right now was the most frightening expression Wells had ever seen. With the lantern light flickering on his hollowed-out face, Oak looked more demon than man.

“We wanted you to be a Protector,” Oak growled, his voice low and dangerous. “We wanted to trust you and welcome you into our fold.”

“I had nothing to do with what Graham did,” Wells said, willing his voice steady. “You have to know that I’m—”

Oak lunged for him, closing the distance between them in one great stride, and gripped Wells’s throat with a hand as rough and relentless as a hangman’s noose. Wells saw spots and fought to breathe. The lantern light in front of him started to fade out, his vision blurring. With his remaining ounce of strength, he kicked his legs out, trying to free himself from Oak’s grasp.

The door behind them clanged open and Oak released him suddenly. Wells fell to the ground and tumbled over, gripping his own throat and desperately sucking in air with tight, rasping breaths.

“It’s all right,” a woman’s voice soothed from a few feet away. “No harm done.”

Wells looked up, thinking the words were directed at him, but blinked hard at the strange sight of Oak kneeling before the High Protector. Soren was stroking the old man’s head like a dog, and he had his eyes closed.

“You may go,” she told Oak, and the Protector rose and left the room in one smooth, silent movement. He didn’t seem to give Soren’s order even a millisecond of thought; he just obeyed it.

Soren picked up the lantern Oak had discarded. Where the candle’s flame had rendered Oak demonic, it made the High Protector look serene and angelic. But he reminded himself to remain on his guard. She’s worse than any of them, Wells reminded himself. She’s the one pulling all the strings.

“I’m sorry for that,” Soren said, lowering herself to sit before him, her legs crossed under her long skirts. “Everyone’s a little rattled today. We’ve had… a visitor, you see, at the front gates. An unexpected one.”

Wells froze, his heart racing. Had their friends come for them?

“And then your raiding party returned and we learned what had happened.” She shook her head sadly. “It’s tipped them over the edge, I’m afraid.”

“What Graham did is inexcusable,” Wells said hoarsely, his throat still aching from Oak’s attack.

Soren gave him a tight smile. “I’m inclined to agree. And I’m inclined to believe that you had nothing to do with it.”

She reached out and gently clasped his wrist. “I have plans for you, Wells,” she said, her eyes sparkling.

Wells fought the sudden impulse to pull his arm away from her, as if he was recoiling from a snake that had just reared its venomous head. Plans meant that she expected him to stay here for the long-term.

Play along, he reminded himself. Just long enough to stay alive.

“These plans are for the faithful. For Earth and for us.” She squeezed his wrist tighter. “So tell me. Are you one of us?”

“Yes,” he said, as firmly as he could manage while his mind whirred. What could he say to convince her? “I was just as shocked as everybody else by what Graham did. I just wish I’d been able to warn you about him sooner.”

Soren leaned back and surveyed him carefully. “What do you mean?”

Wells clenched his jaw. “I’ve been wary of Graham for a very long time. He was on the dropship that brought me down to Earth.” He nodded reverently downward, the way the Protectors always did when referencing Earth incidentally. “I learned very quickly not to trust him. I don’t even think it’s about him not accepting Earth’s wisdom. I think he has. I just think he’s unstable and needs…”

The door opened behind Soren. She cocked her head without turning as her blond advisor stepped inside, pulling a limp figure behind her. Graham.

“He’s awake,” the advisor said.

Wells bit his lip to stop himself from gasping as the blond woman yanked Graham into the room and let him fall to the floor. He was awake, though you could hardly tell. His head, puffy and caked with blood, lolled against the wall where she’d left him. His eyes traveled to Wells’s, completely expressionless, as the woman in gray stepped out again, shutting the door behind her.

Soren touched Wells’s knee, her sweet smile never wavering. “You were saying?”

Wells glanced at Graham, swallowing hard. Graham kept staring, as though he didn’t have enough energy to blink. Only the rise and fall of his chest told Wells that he was even alive.

Wells looked at Soren. “I think he’s… unwell. Mentally. From the moment we landed, he did everything he could to undermine my standing in our camp, for no other reason but petty rivalry. He drew a line in the sand on our very first day on Earth and put my life and the lives of my friends in danger every single chance he could get. So if you’re asking if I’m with him…” He contorted his face into a sneer. “The answer is no.”

Graham’s gaze dipped slowly down to the floor, Wells’s stomach sinking with it. He had to be so careful. If they thought he was in league with Graham, any hope of escaping with their friends would be lost. But he couldn’t risk making too convincing a case that Graham was irredeemable either. He couldn’t put Graham at any more risk than he already was.

Wells swallowed.

“I’m sorry, Mother,” Wells said, shaking his head.

Her eyes widened, a quick flash, barely perceptible. “For what, Wells?”

“For dwelling on the past. I was meant to have washed it all away in the river, I know that. Whatever happened before is gone now.” He peered up at her. “This is my home now, if Earth wills it.”

“If Earth wills it,” she repeated, her voice hushed, continuing to watch him.

Just as he was losing all hope that she’d bought that sudden display of devotion, she leaned over and kissed his forehead.

“I believe you,” she said. “And at dawn tomorrow, I’ll be performing what we call the Pairing Ceremony with you and the other recruits, where we officially welcome you into our fold as Protectors.”

She pulled a dagger out of a pocket in her long, flowing skirts. It glinted dangerously in the low light of the room. Wells held his breath, heart racing, as Soren ran its blade along the inside of Wells’s arm, then sliced through the ropes binding him.

Wells let out a long sigh of relief, rotating his ankles and wrists until the feeling returned to them in sharp prickles. Pocketing her dagger, Soren stood.

“The others will require more, of course,” she went on. “My Protectors.” Soren pressed her hand to her heart, smiling indulgently, like she was talking about small children. “Our community’s very existence requires our men to be brutes. It’s what they know, and it’s what they respect. If you want to join our community and be accepted by them, they’re going to need a brutal kind of proof from you. It’s the only way to get them to trust you.”

Wells felt his breath stilling, icy in his chest.

“Take this young man out to the forest and kill him,” she ordered, her voice light as ever. “You can make it as quick or as drawn out as you like, but do it well outside our sacred walls, please. We don’t need any more blood spilled here today.”

No. The word tore through Wells as hatred and revulsion battled for dominance. This was where it ended. They had to get out of here. Now. A second wave of nausea crashed over him as the implications of Soren’s words sank in. What did she mean by more blood? His mind raced back to that mention she’d made of an unexpected visitor. Now he prayed with every fiber of his being that it hadn’t been one of his friends.

“Oak will accompany you as a witness to your obedient service.” Soren opened the door and waved Oak over, then glided away without another look back.

Oak filled the doorframe, two guns clutched in his ropy hands. He trained them on Graham. Graham stood shakily and walked out the door, like one of the Earthborns’ sheep being herded to its pasture.

Graham glanced over at Wells, but Wells couldn’t read any expression through his swollen eyes and bruised jaw.

The sky was starting to darken toward sunset. They walked in silence out of the small front entrance to the Stone, picking their way through the courtyard, into the forest beyond. As they reached the line of trees, Wells swore he could see something strange out of the corner of his eye, a bright flame moving westward fast, but he didn’t dare turn for fear of giving Oak an excuse to pull the trigger.

Every time Wells thought they might stop—this had to have been far enough—they would keep going, dread gripping him tighter and tighter with every step.

Finally, Oak barked, “Here,” and Graham and Wells stopped walking.

Wells turned slowly, arms high, then winced as Oak shoved one of the guns across his chest. Oak stared at him expectantly, and Wells grasped for a way to buy time. He’d find a way out of this nightmare. He had to.

“Can I—can I have a moment alone with Graham to say good-bye?”

Oak’s eyes softened slightly. “Fine, but I’ll be right over there if you need me.” He pointed to the perimeter of the Stone, then turned to walk away.

Wells held his breath, his pulse stilling to a cold, steady beat. What could he do? He could either kill Graham, or refuse and be killed himself, or kill Oak. There wasn’t an option. He lifted the barrel of the gun and trained it at Oak’s retreating back. He closed one eye, taking aim, his finger on the trigger and—

Two bound hands pulled the barrel down again.

Wells gasped, turning to Graham, whispering, “What are you doing?” He wrestled the rifle free. “We’ll shoot him and we’ll run.”

Graham smiled bleakly. His eyes were so swollen with bruises that Wells could barely see his eyes. “You really think it’s that simple? I can barely walk after what they did to me. How are we going to get away? They’d come after us, and they’d kill us both. I’m a dead man either way. But you can get back in there and help our people. And if you can bring these bastards down in the process, so much the better.”

Wells wiped sweat from his forehead. “What are you saying?”

“You know what I’m saying, Jaha, don’t be obtuse.”

“There’s another way—” Wells’s breaths came short, frantic. “I’ll fire at the tree. Give you a chance to run, say I missed.”

“They’ll kill you for missing.”

“I’ll dig a hole and say I buried you, I’ll—”

“They’ll want to see a body, Wells, think!” Graham’s whisper rose into a shout. He sucked his voice back in, shaking his head, his eyes growing distant. “All those things you said in there…”

Wells’s mouth went dry, though he kept his gun trained on Graham so Oak wouldn’t get suspicious. “Graham. I didn’t—”

“They were true.” His eyes rose to meet Wells’s, wide and clear. “I am not a good person. I’m not. Never have been, not for my entire life. But you are.” Graham snorted. “I think it’s what’s always bugged me the most about you.”

“I…” Wells’s head slumped. Graham was wrong—it had been a very long time since he’d considered himself a good person by any definition of the word. But this, what they were asking him to do, was a new level of monstrous. “I won’t do this. I can’t.”

“Sure you can,” Graham said, a slight tremor in his whisper betraying the fear underneath it. “I’m giving you permission. Your conscience is totally clear.”

Wells’s hands were slick with sweat against the cold metal of the gun. He glanced down at it, and then back up at the other boy. Graham’s cheeks were wet with tears.

“I never told you what I did back on the ship, did I?” Graham asked, his whisper cracking like a bad radio signal. “What they confined me for?”

Wells watched wordlessly as Graham raised his eyebrows and fell to his knees, until he was peering up at Wells through the darkness, his jaw set and eyes streaming.

“I’ve done bad things, Jaha. You don’t even know how many bad things. Let me do this one noble thing now. Please. Please just let me.”

Wells could hardly look at Graham, his longtime enemy’s forehead contorted with pain as he pleaded… not for his life, but for his own death. There was no trace here of the smirking, strutting Phoenician boy Wells knew. That Graham was already gone.

But this one was well worth saving.

“No,” Wells said, certainty cementing in his muscles. “We’ll find another wa—”

Graham’s hand darted out for Wells’s trigger before he could so much as blink. The blast rang out through the forest, through the air, through Wells’s head and heart and bones.

He stared at the smoking barrel, and then at the spot where Graham had been kneeling, and then, last and longest, at Graham’s lifeless crumpled body, his blood pouring in rivulets over the blanket of leaves beneath him.

Thoughts broke through the cloud of horror surrounding Wells.

Graham could have run. He could have been selfish. Anybody would have in his position.

He died to save us.

Minutes, hours, days passed, Wells hardly knew… and then a hand gripped his shoulder. Wells flinched, closed his eyes, and turned to see Oak staring at him with solemn pride.

“You’ve learned,” the Protector said. “Well done, son. Let’s go home.”