She sits up, accepts the plate and goes straight for the biscuit. She eats half of it in one bite and scowls at Zach when he laughs.

Sitting at the end of the bed against the post, Zach dips his bacon in ketchup before popping it in his mouth.

When half her eggs are gone, Lynell lowers the plate to her lap and picks dead skin off her lip. “Should I do it? Give it to him?”

“I don’t know,” Zach whispers.

She pauses, considering how much she trusts Zach. “What if I gave him a fake letter?” she asks, picking up her last piece of bacon.

“He’d know.”

“How?”

Zach shrugs. “Or he’d find out and you’d regret it.”

They sit in silence, each slowly eating through their eggs.

“Will he let me live?”

“I hope so.”

“Do you think so?”

Lynell studies him. She sees his father in the shape of his face, nose, and thick eyebrows. But his eyes are starkly different. Dark green like a solid emerald gemstone. They must be from his mom. A spark of jealousy ignites when she thinks of her own eyes, which Elizabeth always said look exactly like her father’s. That just means they look like Eric’s, too.

Lynell sets her plate down, appetite gone.

“He may. Let you live,” Zach says.

Lynell shakes her head. “But can I take the chance? Is the slim possibility of living worth giving him the chance of gaining even more power?”

“Please, Lynell?”

She sets her jaw, glaring at Zach. She understands why he wants her to do it. Why he wants her to give Eric the letter in the hopes of living, actually being a part of their family.

Family.

Her heart burns with the desire for a family. And when she looks up at Zach, she thinks this might be a decent one.

But then she thinks of Eric. How his solution to getting her and the letter is Registration by multiple men. He would have her killed for the chance of even more power and money.

“I can’t,” she says. “I’m sorry, Zach. I can’t.”

It looks like he wants to convince her but then he just nods, averting his gaze as he speaks. “I always knew you were good.” His lips form a small, sad smile when he looks back to her. “You’re good.”

He grabs their plates, gets off the bed, and quietly leaves the room.

Lynell takes a shower, pulls on a flower dress from the closet and opens the door to leave her bedroom.

Two guards look at her. One is dark and all hard lines. The other is short with hair pulled into a bun and a patchy beard that covers his chin and neck. A long scar seems to cut his chin in half, extending from his cheek down his jaw.

“Good morning,” she tells them. They respond with silent stares. “Am I allowed to leave my room?”