When realization falls, heat rises. “You had no right. Those are my private thoughts; they aren’t for you to just peer into because you think I’m a Rezzie, or a Resident, or whatever it is you call them.”

The young man is still watching me carefully, arms folded across his chest, and I remember I wasn’t just dreaming about my death. I dreamed about my life, too. About Finn.

How much did they see? How many of my memories did they violate?

I’m furious that I’ve lost something so private. Something so mine.

“Call them whatever you like,” Yeong says. “But human dreams are the only sure way to tell them apart from us. Residents can’t dream, you see. They can’t imagine beyond what they learn from others. Specifically, what they learn from humans.”

Tension coils through me, making my bones stiffen in response. “If you needed to look at my dreams so badly, couldn’t you have just asked politely instead of violently attacking a person who was recently murdered?”

“We haven’t survived this long by ‘asking politely,’ ” the stranger interjects, cracking a knuckle beneath his folded arms.

“He’s right,” Yeong says seriously. “Besides, the strongest dream imprints come the moment before we die. You know the whole ‘life flashing before your eyes’ thing? Turns out there’s some truth to that.” He offers a gentle smile, retrieving the wires from the floor and sliding his chair back to the machine. “And if it’s any consolation, we didn’t know you’d been murdered until after we saw your dreams.”

My face is still burning with anger and a little embarrassment, but his words spark my curiosity. I can’t ignore the fact that I’ve been in Infinity for less than half a day and I’ve already been shot, stabbed, and spied on. Maybe a little information could help prepare me for whatever is coming next.

The hazel-eyed stranger hasn’t moved, shoulders tense like he’s bracing for combat. And I don’t know what bothers me more—that he’s drawing battle lines without knowing anything about me, or that I couldn’t give him a fight even if I wanted to.

“Are you a medic too?” I ask, eyeing the knife tucked in his belt. Maybe he was here as backup—in case it turned out I wasn’t human.

His expression doesn’t change. “I’m just here to bring you to Annika.”

Yeong nods. “We’re finished here.”

The stranger looks back at me impatiently, and the implication is clear; he’s waited long enough. I push myself to the edge of the couch, standing carefully.

“I’ll come with you because I have questions,” I say. “But I’m nobody’s prisoner.”

His voice is gruff. “Nobody said you were.” And when he turns for the door, I bite down on my nerves and follow him.