“We’re stuck together now, the only bit of blood we each have left,” I whisper. “I’m the delta and you’re the bay. I lead to you. You depend on me. We’re a team, and I’m not gonna let anything change that. Understand?”

She gurgles softly.

When Reed hauls me to my feet, it’s a blessing to have someone guide me. I’m not sure my feet would work if I weren’t being told where to step.

Back in my quarters, as soon as the curtain falls into place and Reed’s footsteps fade off, I race to the window. There’s a full cup of water in the well. I pull it out, sip gingerly. Instinct tells me to gulp it down, but I also know it’s likely to be my last clean drink. I should save some for the morning.

I’m taking a final sip when the curtain parts and Reed steps into the room. “I just wanted to say—” He freezes. “What the hell is that?”

I set the cup on the ledge and drop the curtain, as though hiding the inverted well behind it will make it disappear.

He stalks to the window and peers into the pitcher, nose wrinkling. Then he picks up the cup, sniffs the water. No curled lip, no fowl expression. Slowly, he dips a finger in and tastes the liquid, his eyes locked with mine. He swallows. A muscle ticks in the side of his jaw. He’s going to dump it. My final drink of clean water and he’s going to pour it out. As though I haven’t lost enough already. As if my world isn’t coming apart at the seams.

“Don’t,” I beg softly. “Please. I won’t have any starting tomorrow.”

Time sticks, and for what feels like an eternity he stands there glaring at me. Then he places the cup on the ledge and heads for the door without another word.

“What will you tell him?” I ask as he reaches the curtain.

He pauses. “Nothing. Like you said, you won’t have any more starting tomorrow.” He brushes the curtain aside and slips from the room. I hear him say something to the guards on duty; then his boots fade off.

I grab the cup and gulp down the drink before Reed can change his mind and return to toss it. The water is warm and glorious. As it wets my mouth and slides down my throat, I remind myself that what Reed did was not born of compassion. When my traps yield catch, I killed them immediately. It is kinder that way. Less suffering. Reed granted me a drink, then left me in the cage to perish slowly.