“I don’t want anything from you,” I say. “Except for you to let me go.”

“That, I can’t do.” He presses his fingers to the sides of his nose, a gesture that reminds me of Monarch. “You’ve put me in a very difficult situation. And I’m not sure what to do. I never thought Monarch would stoop so low … but I guess maybe it was a panicked situation.” He meets my eyes. “Was that it? Was that why he did it?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I say. “I really don’t.”

He gives a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “He built you well—making sure to include you were a brilliant liar.” He takes another sip of his water. “It’s a good tool to have, you know—keeps people out of your head.”

I start to say something, but stop. “I don’t … what are you saying?”

His gaze spears me. “You really don’t know, do you? About what we did? About where you came from?”

I shake my head slowly, my mind shifting back to the red door, the blood, the scream. “Who’s we?”

He sighs. “Me and Monarch … I used to be a doctor at The Colony.”

“But you’re out here, now.” I say. “I thought only Bellators we chosen for The Gathering.”

“I am Bellator. Or was one anyway,” He says and when I eye him, “Don’t let this weak old body fool you. Looks can be deceiving, like yours.” He’s speaking to himself not me. He scoots his chair forward. “I’m going to get right to the point, Kayla. There’s no more tiptoeing around it. I think you’re Higher.”

I’m stunned, my arms loose on my lap, my mouth hanging open. “How can I be a Higher? No one can just become a Higher.”

“Someone can become a Higher just as easily as someone can become a vampire,” he says. “You just have to know the right people, who know the right medicine.” He stabs a finger in my direction. “And you know the right people.”

“You’re talking about Monarch.” I’m shaking my head. “No, he wouldn’t do something like that.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Just like he wouldn’t erase your mind?” He pauses when he sees how upset I’m getting. “Don’t worry, he only did it because he had to. It was the only way he could fix the world or at least that’s what he thinks.”

What he thought. I run my hand across my face, the metal links of the chain dragging across my cheek. “I’m not a Higher.” I meet his eyes. “Black hair. Brown eyes. And I don’t like to slaughter people.”

“Sometimes, the transformation takes time,” he says. “Eventually, you’ll turn, just like they all did.”