What is this? I say through my bond with Constantine.

Beside me, the Premier folds his hands behind his back and glances at one of his soldiers. The man moves toward the prisoner. When Constantine speaks again, it’s aloud. “You know your mother benefits or suffers directly from what you choose to do,” he says. “And after the events of the past few days, I’m sure this will come as no surprise to you.” He shrugs. “At first, I wanted to bring her here so you could see it with your own eyes. After all, that’s the only way I can convince you I’m keeping true to my word. But for this punishment, I thought some distance might be instrumental. After all, you might snap, attempting to rescue her once you see what’s happening to her.” He looks at me. “And I can’t have that. So this is my solution.”

He nods at the woman, and the soldier strikes her viciously across the face, so hard that she collapses onto the bridge.

The careful walls around my heart crumble. Everything in me twists in agony at the sight.

The mayor stands with her hands folded calmly before her. But in her eyes, I can see an ocean of pain.

“Everything that happens to this woman,” Constantine explains, nodding at me, “is also happening to your mother. She is her.”

The soldier walks over to the woman as she struggles back up to a sitting position, then kicks her before she can steady herself. She lets out a hoarse wheeze of pain and falls again.

My hands clench so hard that I think I’ve cut into my palms. Is this about the arena? I respond. My rage and terror spark like light in my head, blinding me. My refusing to execute a Striker?

Oh, Constantine replies, this time through the link. I think you know it’s about more than that. Your Striker friends are, somehow, loose.

I told you. I didn’t free them.

I don’t think you did. Constantine’s stare sears into me. But I think you know who did.

This isn’t about Raina or Mayor Elland; if he suspects that, he hasn’t shown any sign of it. But it doesn’t matter. He knows something is brewing behind his back.

Beside us, the mayor’s hands have tensed in front of her.

I stare at the prisoner as she struggles against the stone ground. Somewhere out there, my mother is experiencing the same thing. It is my mother they are kicking to the ground and striking across the face. My mother who is bleeding on the ground.

“I want you to think carefully, Skyhunter,” Constantine says aloud to me as the soldiers drag the woman back to her feet. One of them twists her arm behind her back. “About what you know and who set the Strikers free.”

I don’t know. I tremble with the force of my words as I say them through our link. I only know it wasn’t me.