“And you must be Brooke Moore.” He cups his hand around mine and shakes, and the warmth from his skin seeps into mine. “I must say I’m impressed by your experiences. General Reece has filled me in on all you’ve endured. I know it’s been hard on you. We don’t know much about the outside world. We keep to ourselves here. Slaverunners, arenas—that’s a whole different world to what we’re used to. What I’ve been told about you is really truly incredible. I’m humbled to meet you all.”

Finally, he drops my hand.

“I’m amazed by what you’ve done here,” I say to the Commander. “I’ve dreamt of a place like this ever since the war. But I never dared dream it was true.”

Ben nods in agreement, while Bree and Charlie seem completely entranced by the Commander, both gazing at him with wide eyes.

“I understand,” he says. “On some days it’s hard for me to take in, too.”

He takes a deep breath. Unlike General Reece, who is a bit on the bristly side, the Commander is warm and pleasant, which keeps me hopeful.

But now that the formalities are over, his tone changes, darkens. He gestures for us all to sit. We sit in our chairs, stiff-backed like kids in a principal’s office. He looks us over as he speaks. I can feel that he’s judging each of us, summing us up.

“I have a very serious decision to make,” he begins. “Regarding whether you can stay at Fort Noix.”

I nod solemnly as my hands twist in my lap.

“We’ve taken in outsiders before,” he continues, “particularly children, but we don’t do so as a matter of course. We’ve been tricked in the past by kids your age.”

“We’re not working for anyone,” I say, quickly. “We’re not spies or anything like that.”

He looks at me skeptically.

“Then tell me about the boat.”

It takes me a moment to understand, and then I realize: when we’d been rescued, we’d been traveling in a stolen slaverunner vessel. I realize that they must think we’re part of some kind of organization.

“We stole it,” I reply. “We used it to escape from Arena Two.”

The Commander regards me with suspicious eyes, like he doesn’t believe that we could have escaped from an arena.

“Did anyone follow you?” he asks. “If you escaped an arena and stole a boat from slaverunners, surely they’d be pursuing you?”

I think back to the time on the island in the Hudson, of the relentless game of cat and mouse we played with the slaverunners. But we’d managed to get away.

“There aren’t,” I say, confidently. “You have my word.”

He frowns.

“I need more than your word, Brooke,” the Commander contests. “The entire town would be in danger if someone had followed you.”