“That’s not the way it works,” he says. “He’s proven enough times he’ll do what we ask to keep you alive. How do you think we knew which one of you to threaten when we needed to remind him to keep working for us?”

“What?” I stumble over a rotted chunk of wood and pause, ready to run or fight—whichever will keep me alive longer.

He rubs his hand over his bald head, wicking away glistening sweat. “Throwing you over the wall. The cage. Not that I approve of the way Conall handled himself, but it worked. Before we knew about you we thought your sister would be more useful for controlling him.” He shrugs. “I was wrong. Once you were in the picture we had to figure out which sister he cared about more. Turns out it’s you.”

I think of all they put me through—the torture and agony of it! “You’re worse than the Unconsecrated,” I hiss. “You’re a monster.”

“It worked,” he says evenly. “I told you when we met that I’d do anything for my men. You should have believed me.”

“You’re crazy and stupid.” I wave my machete in the air, dismissing him. “You’re the one who said there was nowhere else to go! You’re the one convinced we’re all that’s left.”

He shakes his head, sliding his hand from the edge of the platform, and takes a step toward me. I square my shoulders, raising my chin, ready to attack. He stops. “It’s not for me to decide,” he says. “I don’t decide we’re the last ones. I just keep the people safe. They’ll determine whether to start a new generation.”

I snort. “There are only men on that island.”

He tilts his head. “We have Souler women too. They’d have learned to make a life with some of my men.”

My stomach lurches at the thought. At creating a generation by force.

“Do you ever wonder about the very first people?” he asks. “About what it must have been like for them? To find themselves so unprepared for this dangerous new world?”

“You mean after the Return hit?” I take another two steps back. It won’t be long before the tide of Unconsecrated sweeps into the station, and every moment we stand here unmoving is a moment they’re drawing closer.

He laughs, the sound out of place in these tunnels. “No, I mean the very first living. What would happen if they’d simply given up?”

“I guess humanity wouldn’t have been worth it then,” I say. Above us more cracks race across the glass, the lead grates shuddering under the weight of so many undead bodies. I retreat farther down the tunnel until it’s as if Ox is just speaking to the empty tomb of a station.