“Next time a man asks you to join him, I suggest you respect that,” he says. And then he brings his hand down, sharp and furious, across the right side of my face. Pain explodes, blasting through my skull, and I bite back a grunt as I throw my hands over my head to protect myself against another blow. I want to spring up, dig my nails into his eyes, but I force myself to stay coiled on the floor instead.

The Recruiter laughs and kicks the now-empty soup bowl I’d been carrying at me, then he calls to his friends and they all swagger from the room, leaving me huddled in the corner.

For a long time I stay there trying to catch my breath, which comes in wheezes and hiccups. Over and over again I replay the entire episode, trying to figure out how I lost control of it so fast. I curse myself that I wasn’t stronger or somehow smart enough to manipulate the situation toward a better outcome.

Ox could have stepped in and stopped it but he didn’t, and I realize he was telling the truth when he said he’d always side with his men and that it’s my job to keep clear of trouble. When I’d told Elias that I knew how to take care of myself, I believed it. I’ve been taking care of myself alone for years—knowing to avoid the Recruiters and their cold cruelty. But I’m not sure I know how to do that anymore. Not in the Sanctuary.

Sick to my stomach, I find a rag to sop up the spilled soup and I try to eat a few bites of bread, knowing I need something in my system but choking on every piece that I force down my throat.

Finally, I slip from the room, glancing around each corner before shuffling down the hallways, staying pressed against the wall as if it could protect me.

I’ve never felt more cold and alone and tired. Hopelessness spirals through me, draining me of energy. Helpless tears cloud my eyes, but the rage that usually accompanies such feelings never comes. I’m used to anger—used to using it to fill me with fight to face another day or week or month. Yet there’s nothing.

Listless and exhausted, I wander the corridors, trying to find Elias or Catcher or my sister, following stairs when they appear and letting gravity pull me where it will. My cheek throbs and I press it against windows, letting the cold of the night numb the pain.

I’m standing there, silent and lost, when I hear what sounds like cheering. It seems so out of place that I find myself following the noise, wondering what there is to clap about when the world seems to be pulling itself apart around us.