The recreation room is the only place that feels remotely like it’s ours. The walls are covered in murals and graffiti tags. One of the cabinets holds a collection of board games (though most of the dice and the pawns are long since missing). In one of the corners stands a pathetic fake Christmas tree, left over from last year’s festivities. Give it a couple of weeks and it’ll be timely again. One shelf holds a collection of five books. Well, four and a half.

Hunter’s at the front of the room, near the game cabinet. The unofficial boss of Hope. He has his arms crossed, and he taps his foot. His hair is wild and unruly, but it doesn’t make him look less intimidating.

When I walk up to him, the corner of his mouth quirks up. “Good to be home again?”

I grasp the edge of a table. “Fuck you.”

He raises an eyebrow, and he shifts his weight so he towers over me. “You know the rules that apply in here will apply outside too, right?”

I tilt back my head so I can look him in the eye, and I speak slowly, enunciating every word. “Good, because I’m not going.”

I want to see Paris. I want to see Vinnytsia, where my first foster family was from. I want to try out as many towns and cities across the world and find the one where I belong. I have no idea who I can be yet, but I know I’m meant to be more than a number in a system. So many of us are. I want to figure out who I am when you peel the anger away.

I don’t want to be shot like a dog by soldiers who don’t care for us.

I do not want to die outside.

Satisfaction straightens my shoulders when Hunter frowns and leans back. “You’re not.” It’s a statement, not a question.

“I’m not,” I repeat. “You can take your friends on a wild goose chase through the mountains, but I’ll stay here where I’ll have a roof over my head, food to eat, and oh, what was the other thing again? A future.”

He scoffs. “You’re adorable when you’re upset.”

“And you’re an asshole who couldn’t even protect his friend from getting shot,” I snap.

It happens before I can stop him. He grabs me by the front of my shirt and pulls me close, angling his own body so the rest of the room doesn’t see what’s happening between us. Not that anyone would step in regardless.

“Don’t you dare,” he hisses quietly.

I tense all over. I refuse to flinch away from him and instead lean in closer. “I’ll take my chances in Hope. Let. Me. Go.”

He doesn’t. Not immediately. He holds me close, and it’s as if he stares right through me. Then he shakes his head. “If you think you’ll have a future here, you’re a fool, Grace.” He drops my shirt, and I nearly lose my balance. “But I don’t need you slowing me down. For that matter, anyone else who wants to stay here with you and die is welcome to do so. Just know that everything that happens to them will be your responsibility.”