“Conall.” Elias’s voice is strained. “You promised we’d be safe.”

I glance at the faces around us, everyone tense after the ordeal on the dock and many still clutching weapons tightly. It’s very easy to see that these men belong to Conall and will do anything he says.

We are utterly at their mercy.

“You made the right decision,” he says to Elias. “You promised him to us and you delivered.” And then he turns and shoves his way to the other end of the car.

I’m left staring at Elias, shock making my breath run shallow and my head light. “You set us up?”

Catcher’s hand tightens around mine. “Not right now, Annah,” he warns.

I stare at him in disbelief. “But that man said Elias—”

Catcher shakes his head once, sharp, and then his eyes scan those around us. All the Recruiters listening in.

I glare at Elias and then turn back to the window, preferring to watch my city fall than look at a traitor.

We’re just approaching the midpoint of the river when the horde stumbles onto the cable-car landing we just left. People jump from the platform, trying to escape, but it’s no use—the water’s half frozen and there’s nowhere for them to go.

Boats dot the surface of the river, some struggling toward the Sanctuary but moving away when they see the line of Recruiters patrolling the wall that rings the island, ready to shoot anyone who approaches the shore.

The scope of what’s happening begins to sink in. This was my home. The Dark City, the Neverlands—this island—has survived against the Unconsecrated since the Return. Generation after generation has struggled and fought—protected and held on.

And it’s all gone. Just like that. In less than a day.

I press my forehead to the chilled glass, my breath puffing cloudy circles, obscuring the chaos I’m leaving behind.

What if this is it? What if we’re only staving off the inevitable?

As if he’s reading my thoughts, Catcher moves closer against me. But his heat can’t penetrate the cold terror invading my heart and freezing through my veins.

I know the Sanctuary based on what I could see of it from the Dark City: a small island sitting in the middle of the wide river with a thick stone wall circling the shore. At either end there are clusters of tall narrow skyscrapers and sprawled in between is a long low building painted a dull gray.

When our cable car lands on the platform in the wall it’s to the gray building we’re taken. A handful of Recruiters confiscate our weapons and huddle around us as the sounds from the Dark City float across the river on the icy wind: screaming, moaning, panic.

I want to point out to them that they don’t have to worry about us leaving—there’s nowhere for us to go—but instead I shove my hands deep into my empty pockets and hunch my shoulders against the cold.