Angelina stayed close, as always, and Sydney was practically on top of me.

Xander pulled us along, with Eden following right behind. “Don’t worry, you’re safe here.” Then he smiled kindly at Sydney when he said, “We’ll take you back home once the sirens have ceased.”

I stopped walking, my heart stock-still within my chest. “How do you know it’s not an attack on the city? How do you know that the sirens will just . . . stop?”

Xander’s grin had the same predatory quality I’d seen at the club. “Because we were responsible for the attack on the city. We made them go off.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. It didn’t make any sense. Almost less sense than a subterranean city. “Why? Why would you do that?”

He sighed. “Come with me, Charlaina. We need to talk.”

It wasn’t hard to convince Angelina to stay with Sydney in the room that had been prepared for us. From what I could tell, there were very few individual accommodations, so I was grateful that one had been set aside for us. It was dank and smelled of cellar dirt, but at least there were suitable sleeping pallets.

I was still worried about Sydney’s injuries. She looked more and more like she might need medical attention, and I could only hope that some rest might do her good.

Before I left them alone, I pressed a gentle kiss against Angelina’s cheek. It was a chance to speak to her with no one overhearing. “Don’t do anything to help her, Angelina. I need you to keep your hands to yourself.” But when I pulled back, I could see worry in her eyes, and I knew she didn’t want me to go. “I’ll hurry back as fast as I can. I won’t be long,” I promised.

Angelina knew I spoke the truth. I could never lie to her, and she quieted down at last, silently agreeing to remain with the girl.

As I passed, I studied the armed woman who stood guard outside the small chamber’s entrance. She was more intimidating than any soldier I’d ever seen. Yet another extravagance afforded us by our host.

“Who are you? Who are all these people down here?” I asked, now that Angelina was no longer around. “I mean, I get that they’re Outcasts, but how did you all end up together?”

Xander settled down behind a makeshift desk, a sturdy-looking wooden table with pockmarks and peeling varnish. On it, an odd assortment of colorful maps and charts were strewn haphazardly. We were in an office of sorts, another chamb J th ar chamb er carved into the ground around us. “They’re not all Outcasts, Charlie. Many of them have chosen to be here. Yes, some have left their class, deciding they’d rather live freely among the Outcasts than adhere to the strict rules of society, but others . . . well, let’s just say that others are leading double lives.”

“What do you mean? Why would they want to live in two places at once?”

“This isn’t just an underground city, where people are free to come and go as they please, a place with no rules,” he explained, sitting forward, his elbows on his desk. “You still don’t get it, do you? These are people with strong beliefs. We’ve all come together because we have a common goal—a common enemy. You’re sitting in the headquarters of the resistance.”

He was watching me, and I knew he was waiting for my response, but my brain felt suddenly sluggish, and my thoughts were slow to process what I’d heard.

Finally Xander broke the silence. “Do you understand what I’m telling you, Charlie? We are the revolutionaries.” He grinned then, his teeth flashing white and his scar stretching taut. “And I’m their leader.”

His words dangled in the air. “What are you talking about?” I finally scoffed. This was some sort of elaborate hoax. But then I looked at him, really looked at him. And I noticed the sense of power he wore, radiating off him like heat, and I wondered why I hadn’t noticed that at the club. Maybe I’d been too preoccupied by his strange silver eyes. Or maybe I’d been too concerned with Max. Whatever it was, Xander waited for me to catch up. “You’re . . . you’re not joking, are you?”

He shook his head solemnly. “I’m really not.”

“How many of you are there?” I asked, still trying to make sense of everything he’d just told me, my head reeling with nebulous, unformulated questions.

He studied me as intently as I did him. “Here? Thousands. The underground city stretches for miles, we have access points hidden in every part of the Capitol, and we have nearly as many escape routes as we have soldiers willing to die for the cause.” He smiled at his boast, and then added, “Outside the Capitol, we have encampments in almost every major city in the country. We’re bigger than you realize. Bigger than the queen realizes.” His eyebr

ows drew together, his expression was grave. “I can’t fail, Charlie. I can’t let these people down. They’re counting on me.”

I didn’t know what to say.

It didn’t matter that his reasons seemed sound, or that he truly believed his cause was just. It didn’t matter that I thought Xander was a decent man trying to make a difference in this world.

He was a criminal. He was the leader of a rebel movement bent on destroying the very foundation of our country. If he succeeded, if by some inconceivable stretch of the imagination he was truly able to overthrow Queen Sabara, then the country would be thrown into chaos. Everything we believed in, everything we’d ever been taught, would become obsolete.