Maybe we owe Ophelia a chance at peace before seeking out a way to remove her from Infinity for good.

Gil looks at my hands, studying them the way I did. “You’re not ready for this. You don’t understand what they are.”

I stifle a miserable laugh. “Of course I’m not ready. Everything I know about the Residents came from the Exchange. But knowing their rules, their customs, their armies—it doesn’t mean I understand them. And maybe neither do any of you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Has anyone even spoken to one of them before? Asked them why they’re doing this?”

“Humans are being enslaved and you’re wondering why we didn’t make a phone call to ask why?”

“That’s not what I mean,” I argue. “I know they want to take over, and I know we can’t let that happen. But all we see is the monster—and maybe that’s all they see of us. And I want to be clear what the difference is.”

“Does it matter?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe.” I ball my hands. “If there were a way to reach them, to reason with them… would the Colony even try it? If it meant stopping this war?”

“Is it really peace you’re after, or are you still afraid you might actually have to kill one of them?” The accusation stings.

Heat rises across my skin. “Not wanting to kill a Resident doesn’t mean I don’t want to help.”

“You are the greatest weapon this Colony has ever had, and instead of embracing it, you want to humanize the enemy and undo everything we’ve worked for,” he points out, his voice like venom.

I try not to let him see how much his words hurt me. “I know they need to be stopped. I’m just not sure we’re on the same page as to what that means.”

Silence echoes around us.

Maybe being honest is making things worse, but I’ve opened a window, and now I can’t stop the light from coming in. I can’t stop how I feel. “I don’t see how having an unrestrained hatred for an entire species helps anyone.” I mull over my words. “And if that’s the requirement for being a part of this resistance, then I’m never going to be the Hero you want me to be.”

“You and I can at least agree on that,” he says frostily. “But the Colony needs a spy, and we can’t afford to be picky.”

My pulse quickens. I hate that my feelings bruise so easily and that he knows exactly the right way to bruise them. “I said I’d help gather information, and I meant it. But that doesn’t mean I can’t think for myself. I’m not just a piece on a chessboard that the rest of you can push around.”