“Yes, you are. Your flight from the Overseer was a testimony to your strength. And of course, your gift is a great asset—even Rephaim will not expect a second spirit to invade their dreamscape. You have the element of surprise on your side.” The fire danced in his eyes. “But first you must overcome your limits. There is a reason you find it so difficult to leave your body. Your every move is controlled. Your muscles are constantly locked, ready to run, as if you sense danger in the very air you breathe. It is painful to watch, worse than watching a deer being hunted. A deer, at least, can flee to its herd.” He leaned forward. “Where is your herd, Paige Mahoney?”

I had no idea how to answer. I understood what he meant—but my herd, my pack, was Jax and the rest of the gang. And I couldn’t breathe a word of their existence. “I don’t need one,” I said. “Lone wolf.”

He wasn’t fooled. “Who trained you to climb buildings? Who taught you to fire a gun? Who helped you see farther into the æther, to move your spirit from its natural place?”

“I taught myself.”

“Liar.”

He reached under his chair. My chest tightened. My emergency backpack. One of the straps hung by a thread.

“You could have died the night you ran from the Overseer. The only reason you did not is because when you lost consciousness, this bag caught on a clothesline, breaking your fall. When I heard of this, I took a personal interest in you.”

He unzipped the pack. My jaw hardened. Those were my possessions in there, not his.

“Quinine,” Warden listed, sifting through the contents. “Adrenaline, cut with Dexedrine and caffeine. Basic medical supplies. Sleep aids. Even a firearm.” He held up my pistol. “You were remarkably well resourced on that night, Paige. None of the others were.”

A shiver ran behind my ribs. No sign of the pamphlet. Either he’d hidden it somewhere, or it had fallen into other hands.

“Your id states that you work as an ossista, a waitron in an oxygen bar. From what the Overseer tells me of Scion citadels, payment for that class of job is low. That leads me to believe that you did not purchase these supplies yourself.” He paused. “So who did?”

“None of your damn business.”

“Did you steal them from your father?”

“I’m not telling you anything more. My life before this place is not yours.”

Warden seemed to consider this before leveling his gaze on me.

“You are right,” he said, “but your life is mine now.”

My nails dug into the chair.