Cob paled, but he drew a deep breath. “I’m… from the mountains.”
“Tell me about it.”
“It’s a small…” His head sank. “Was a small village in a mountain valley, a week’s journey from here. The Protectors found us and recruited me as they made their way to the Stone. We kept sheep and goats. My mom worked the wool and my pa… my pa…” His voice dwindled, choked by the memories of all he’d lost. He shook his head, his eyes filling up.
Wells pressed a hand to his shoulder, then moved down the row to a heavyset recruit a little older than the others. “How about you?”
“We washed all that away in the river,” the recruit said brusquely, his expression closed off.
Wells nodded, considering. Either this guy was a true believer or he thought this was a test. There was so much fear rippling through the room, Wells could practically feel it. The older recruit was watching him with suspicion.
“My home,” Wells said, his voice rising, “is a few days west of here. It’s a camp that a hundred of us built with our hands and our sweat and our blood after crash-landing on the planet. We fought hard to make a home there… and I will be damned if I’m going to wash the memory of it away, just because a bunch of murderers told me ‘Earth wills it.’” He raised his hands to make air quotes, rewarded by the sound of a few tentative laughs.
“I wake up every morning thinking that I’m there,” Wells went on, his heart pounding. “And when I remember what happened to the place I love, the people I love, the only thing that gets me out of that”—he pointed to his empty cage—“is revenge.”
Several of the men were nodding now. Eric glanced at Kit, their eyes shining with quiet hope.
“Your minds are your own,” Wells said, his voice rising as he paced up and down the row. “But I’m going to tell you what I think. I think that river washed nothing away. I think you’re still there, all of you, strong and angry as ever.” He pointed to the closed door. “I don’t know if they’re human anymore. But we are. Our memories matter. Our homes matter. Our people matter.”
The men stood up now, one after another, their faces bright as torches, burning with rage.
“I think I’m not going to live another second as one of them,” Wells shouted, the others roaring back in agreement. “When they take us to the Heart of the Stone, we will fight back. Our captivity ends today. Who’s—?”
A colossal, deafening bang echoed through the walls, the floor, into his very bones. Wells careened to the side. Plaster fell from the ceiling. The rest of the rebels rose slowly from where they’d fallen, getting their balance as they looked frantically around.
“What’s happening?” Eric shouted.
Someone’s blowing down the freaking walls, Wells thought, but before he could voice that theory, there came another boom, this one closer. It felt as if the walls around them were going to crumble. Wells struggled upward and staggered to the door.
“Let’s move!” he shouted to the others, waiting to wave them through the doorway.
“Where are we going?” asked Cob, grabbing Wells’s arm as he passed.
Another explosion rocked the floor, the sound of screams joining with the clattering din, so loud that Wells had to shout to be heard.
“How does home sound?” he yelled.
Cob shot him a wild grin. “It sounds just about perfect!”
CHAPTER 28
Glass
It was the darkest hour before the sunrise, and it was about to happen.
The Pairing Ceremony.
Margot had shaken Glass awake a few minutes ago, and instructed her to go get the other female recruits. To lead them to their fates. Glass’s knees trembled as she got out of her bed and pulled on her white dress, braiding her hair back.
This wasn’t supposed to be happening. Wells was supposed to have figured out an escape plan by now. Was it possible that Octavia hadn’t been able to find him? Or maybe her friends left without her. Her stomach felt leaden, filled with dread.
Half in a daze, Glass moved throughout the dark corridors of the Stone, Margot trailing behind her. When they reached the women’s den, Margot unlocked the door. Glass stepped in, hands shaking.
All the girls were awake already, sitting on their mats, tidily made up for the Ceremony. Glass caught Octavia’s eye, but Octavia kept her face schooled, giving away nothing.
“It’s time,” Glass told them. The girls filed past her and out the door, Octavia quickly squeezing her hand.
Margot led the front of the line, Glass following in the back. She kept her step steady, but her eyes darted everywhere—the crumbling alley to the left, the jagged path past a heap of rubble to the right, searching frantically for a way out of here, away from this.