“As your body is now cleaned, I ask you to wipe your minds clear as well,” Soren said, her gaze traveling over all of them. “Not of your education or your skills. Those are gifts from Earth Herself. Clear your mind instead of assumptions. Get rid of what you have always clung to as truth. Walk among us open-minded. Be a vessel into which Earth can pour Her wisdom, and you will be well on your way to serving as a true Protector, and a friend to this great community—the last and only empire, if Earth wills it.”

“If Earth wills it,” Wells repeated, along with everybody else. The more he looked like he was buying into this nonsense, the easier it’d be to earn their trust… and then use it against them.

“And now,” Soren said brightly, “we celebrate!” She smiled and motioned them out of the water, the young women first, and then the men.

Wells rubbed drips of water from his eyes until he could spot the gathering in the distance. There was a large grassy rectangular field just past the river’s edge lined with tables full of food and drink. As Wells waded out of the river, a small woman in a white dress offered him a cloth to dry himself.

“Thank you,” he said. She blinked in reply and scurried off.

Wells strolled through the gathering, peering down at the baskets piled with food, wondering which of it was plundered from his own camp. That bushel of bruised apples? The sweet potatoes? The rolls, made with someone else’s grains? Wells took one of each and wandered away from the tables, looking for Graham and Eric.

Wells found his gaze drawn back to the riverbank, where two girls were lingering, heads bent close as they talked. The blond one glanced nervously over her shoulder—it was Glass and Octavia. Whatever they were discussing, they weren’t being half as covert as they thought they were. The women in gray were watching them from the field.

Glass caught his eye and started to mouth something to him, but he shook his head. Instead, he smiled back dimly, using that same placid expression he saw on all the Protectors, then motioned for Glass and Octavia to join him.

He found a spot on a blanket near the compound walls and settled in with his food. A few minutes later, Glass and Octavia made their way over and sat down beside him. Wells had to force himself not to glare at the Protectors who watched their movements with appraising eyes.

“Are you all right?” Glass asked, leaning over to give him a quick hug.

“I’m fine,” he said. “Keep smiling.”

She did.

Octavia smiled too, but hers wasn’t half as convincing. “We’re leaving,” Octavia said through gritted teeth. “I saw some boats tied up by the river. Whenever we get the opportunity, we’re going to make a run for them.”

Wells could feel his pulse jump in his wrists, his stomach, his throat. He kept smiling. “When?”

Octavia’s fake smile vanished as she pressed her lips together into a determined line. “As soon as possible. Tonight maybe.”

“Hold on,” Wells whispered before craning his head to nod respectfully at a blond woman in a gray dress passing silently by. Once she was out of earshot, he took a bite of his apple, stretching his legs casually in front of him. “Whatever you’re thinking of doing, don’t do it. Not yet.”

Octavia’s eyes narrowed. “Why not?”

Glass answered for him. “It isn’t the right time yet.”

“Exactly,” Wells said, offering her a bite of apple. Glass shook her head politely and glanced away.

“Seems like a perfect time to me,” Octavia said, reaching out to claim the bite Glass had passed on. “There are boats tied up on the water right now. We can—”

“We can what?” Wells whispered quickly. The field was filling up fast and their window for chatting was closing. “Row away while they shoot at us?”

Octavia frowned, but he saw her considering.

“It could be the start of a plan,” he said patiently. “But we’ve got no weapons, no help, and they don’t trust us enough to let their guard down yet. Even if we were to get away, all the way back home, they’d just march straight back there and do the same thing they did before—only worse this time.”

“What are you thinking?” Glass asked quietly, pinching off a corner of the stale loaf of bread and rolling it between her finger and thumb.

“We’ll become Protectors,” Wells said. “All of us. Graham, Eric, Kit, and the other guys from our camp are on board. Talk to the other girls who were captured and spread the word. We do whatever it takes to make them trust us, to believe that we want to join them. Then, once they trust us and let their guard down, we’re out of here. That way, when we escape, it’ll be with our own weapons in our hands and a fighting chance of making it home.”

Octavia went quiet, and for a moment, Wells worried that she was going to argue with him, loudly, right here, surrounded by their enemies. Then she slowly nodded and peered up at him.

“The long game… okay, I’m with you, Jaha.”

Wells smiled, then glanced over at Glass, expecting to see her nodding in agreement. But she was staring into the distance, a strange expression on her face, one that, for the first time in their long friendship, he couldn’t quite read. He wondered if she was thinking about Luke… but no, it wasn’t that. There was no element of pain, just wistfulness.

“Glass? You on board with the plan?” Wells asked.

At the sound of her name, she startled and turned to him. “What? Yes, of course.”

A hint of something he did recognize flashed across her face. After so many years, and so many secrets, he could always tell when she was lying.

CHAPTER 14

Bellamy

Crouched behind a mossy jumble of rotting branches, Bellamy watched the sun set over the largest building he’d ever seen.

This had to be the place. And this was definitely the moment. It’d taken them far too long to get here. Over the past day of hiking, the terrain had grown choppy and treacherous, the ruins of a fallen cityscape littered the forest with hidden hazards, hills and crests and sheer drop-offs were in every direction. But finally they were here, and there wasn’t a second to waste. Every second they waited was one during which something terrible could happen to Octavia, Wells, and the rest of their friends.

A pack of men in white had filed out of the building a few minutes ago, wagons rolling behind them. The sight of them had released a torrent of bubbling rage, and it’d taken all his self-control not to lunge at them. There hadn’t been any movement since then—on anybody’s part.