He snags me by the arm, his hands shaking, and everything he fears spills out of him. He’s afraid of death, of what he’s done, and that he won’t be able to fix it. “You can’t go out there,” he says. “You were supposed to stay in the hospital, but I guess you’ll just have to stay here for a little while.”

I turn my head to look at him.  “Why?”

“Because,” he struggles. “It’s what Monarch wanted—needed you to do today. You need to stay out of the Highers watch for a little while.”

“It’s too late for that,” I mutter. “I did something to Gabrielle.”

His large face twists with confusion. “What do you mean? What did you do?

I try to pull my arm loose, but his bulky fingers refuse to let go. “You can’t go out there right now. It’s too dangerous—you’re too unstable.”

The next few minutes of my life are unclear, not because my memories leave me again, but because all I can see is red. But somehow Taggart, a man four times my size, is lying unconscious on the floor.

My hands are as steady as a rock as I leave Taggart and the infirmary behind. I leave everything behind in that room that smells of death. I walk the hall, marching for the Highers quarters—marching for Gabrielle. I don’t know what I’ll do when I get there, but I’m eager to find out.

I never do, though, get to find out because the sirens go off.

It’s time for the Gathering

Chapter 8

People flurry down the hall like robots, rushing for the Corridor. I barely remember the last Gathering. All I have are foggy images of Bellators getting taken. I asked Monarch about it once, why I couldn’t remember it. All he would say is that it’s a part of life and that when people leave sometimes their memories leave with them.

Watchers, dressed in their black jumpsuits and army boots, herd the Colony members like sheep.  I keep my head down, trying to blend in, as I weave my way to the Corridor, knocking into bodies.

“Kayla.” Someone touches my arm and I whirl, ready to attack. But it’s just Nina.

Her eyes widen at the sight of my expression. “Kayla, what’s wrong? You look …” She peeks around, terrified that a Watcher will overhear us.

Slipping my arm from her hand, I leave her dumbfounded and shove my way through the bodies of people. Inside the tight space of the Corridor, bodies are smashed together in the area that surrounds the oval stage. The air is dank and smells of fear, just the way the Highers like it. I stand at the back, trying to stay inconspicuous. People are talking, not about the Gathering, but about the Bellator who attack a Higher in the hall.