He shouts for me to stop, and right when I reach the door he throws his weight at me, flinging me outside into the blinding cold. I topple to the ground and I’m already trying to reason with him. “My sister and Elias are really sick.” I’m shaking my head. “I need to bring down their fevers. I need—”

Conall’s staring at the packets of herbs spread out around me. My machete’s still inside where the other Recruiter knocked it from my hand. I’m defenseless and Conall’s eyes are murderous.

I throw up my hands protectively, knowing he likes to see me cower. “Look, they’re sick and I—”

He cuts me off again, pawing at me until he’s pulled more herbs from my pocket, all of them falling to the ground. His eyes are wide, rage shimmering from them. “I can’t believe you’d just come in here and steal from us. After all we’ve done to take care of you.” He grabs my arm and shoves it up behind me, dragging me back inside the headquarters.

I struggle against him, trying to bash his face with my head and lashing out with my feet. “I’m just trying to take care of them,” I shout. “I didn’t know what I’d need. I wasn’t going to take it all.”

But he either isn’t listening or doesn’t care. He drags me down the twisty hallways and my stomach floods with apprehension when I hear the echoes of chants and cheers growing louder. Beads of sweat trickle down my chest as I fight harder against his grasp and he only grips me tighter.

“I didn’t mean anything,” I beg, truly terrified of what he’s about to do to me. “I’m sorry. I really am.” I hear my voice cracking and hate the sound of my own weakness.

He doesn’t hesitate but slams me through the door into the auditorium. The benches are emptier than they’d been the last time I saw this place. A few have Recruiters stretched out on them, somehow sleeping through the surrounding chaos.

About a dozen men are still awake, clapping and shouting as a clearly exhausted short-haired Souler woman stumbles around the cage while two Unconsecrated men doggedly follow her. Blood covers the woman’s arms and tattered gray tunic and pools over the floor, making a squishy splash with each step she takes.

Some of the Recruiters look up at us as Conall leads me down the stairs. Their eyes are blurry and I realize they’ve probably been awake all night. “Save her for later,” one of them calls out, waving a hand limply in the air. “It’s time for bed. This one’s getting boring.” He and a few others stumble up the stairs, leaving.