In the faint torchlight, the water rippled with movement. Which meant the fish were alive. Fresh. Healthy. Some of the worry loosened its stranglehold on her chest. Thimble grabbed the nearby net and scooped out three fish. She didn’t know how to cook, how to prepare them, but she knew they didn’t have bones or scales when she ate them, so that was a place to start.

“We can’t cook in the kitchen area,” a brat said. “It’s bad there.”

“I’ll build a fire pit.”

Somehow.

Chapter 4

It took Stone longer than he liked to count the survivors. Not because there were so many, but he wasn’t good with numbers. More than once, he had to start over, until he finally had the depressing figure to carry back to Silk. Everyone he saw questioned him about what would happen to College, now that the battle was over. He could only shake his head.

In the common area, Silk had already made some headway dealing with the bodies. Her remaining Hunters had been put to work, cleaning up the wreckage. He didn’t see how it would be possible to make the community so nice again; it had taken years to haul in all the scrap meal.

The commander of the Hunters greeted him with an impatient look. “Well?” After Stone made his report, Silk paced. “That’s less than half our original population. What about the brats?”

“We lost four.”

“Better than all,” a big Hunter put in.

Crane, he thought. Deuce had fought him during the exhibition. He was tough, strong and unshakable in his loyalty to Silk. Something about the way the Hunter stood made Stone think Crane had feelings for his captain that he wasn’t supposed to. Not that Silk seemed to notice. Hunters weren’t allowed to have personal connections.

“How’s cleanup coming outside the common area?” she demanded. “The cook space?”

“People are working on it,” Crane replied.

Stone took that chance to slip away, but before he found Thimble and Boy23, a Builder cornered him. “You’re strong. You should be hauling bodies.”

He drew in a breath, wanting to protest, but part of him felt like he should suffer for his role in the slaughter. “Show me where to go.”

Like the fighting, his hours on cleanup passed in a miserable blur. By the time he cleared his section of the enclave, he was half-blind with exhaustion. Stone couldn’t remember when he’d last eaten or slept. But before he found a quiet, clean place to lie down, he had to find Thimble and Boy23. They had become his center.

So he stumbled through the enclave, eyes burning, and didn’t stop until he located Thimble back by the fish pools. A fire smoked lazily before her, and he smelled the remnants of a meal. She’d created pallets for the brats, and they slept huddled together for warmth and comfort. Her expression brightened when she saw him, but he held up a hand to keep her from getting up.

“You’re all right?”

“Tired,” she said softly. “I don’t know when I’ve been so tired. I haven’t even had a chance to see the workshop yet.”

He grimaced. “It’s bad. I cleaned in there earlier.”

“So that’s why you were gone so long.”

“Were you worried?” Stone knew he shouldn’t be glad that she cared when everything was such a mess, but

he was.

“A little.”

“Did he give you any trouble?” Stone tilted his head at his brat.

“No, he’s sweet. And asleep.” She shifted, revealing Boy23 curled on his side behind her.

“Thanks again. I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to him.”

Though her gaze sharpened, she didn’t say anything. He’d always been able to tell Thimble anything, and she was gentle when his jokes were dumb, not funny. Sometimes he didn’t realize when he’d gone too far or mentioned something best left alone. Others weren’t as kind.

She lifted a shoulder, dismissing her own importance, as she often did. “I saved you some fish.”

“Thank you.” Stone ate ravenously. He didn’t know when he’d ever had anything so fine, even if it was charred on the outside and raw within.

“I’m not a very good cook.” Those were specialized Builders, who had been under Copper’s supervision. Stone had no idea who would run the cook space now.

Eventually, she said softly, “We should rest.”

Thimble tossed him a blanket and he wrapped up. The floor was hard without even a thin layer of rags for his pallet, but it felt good to stretch out. As they’d done a thousand times before in the brat dorm, she lay down near him, close enough that he could touch her if he stretched his arm out. And he wanted to; he didn’t know why exactly, except she was smart and brave, and she was always there.

Hesitantly, Stone put out his hand and rubbed a lock of her dark hair between his thumb and forefinger. She stared at him over the curve of her arm, eyes wide, but she didn’t tell him to stop. Instead her hand came up to cover his fingers and he threaded them together. He fell asleep that way, feeling only Thimble’s touch and hearing only the comforting, shallow breaths that meant the brats were safe and sound.

In the morning, the remaining Breeders came in search of the little ones. “The dorm’s clean. We can take them. You should return as well.”

A chill ran down his spine as he watched the brats trail away with forlorn glances over their shoulders. They’d bonded with Thimble and none of them wanted to leave her. Tears streamed down their small faces, smudging the soot. But when his offspring cried, Stone picked him up, earning a hard look, but he defied the woman to say anything. This wasn’t the time.

“I’ll keep him,” he said, not meeting her gaze. “After I check in with Silk, I’ll join you.”

The Breeder frowned. “Check in about what?”

It was none of her business how he’d gotten in trouble. Strictly speaking, he wasn’t even a pure Breeder anymore, as he’d broken the rules and fought. He’d used weapons and shed blood. The memory of the battle rose up in a red-tinged madness, and he squeezed his eyes shut. He didn’t open them until he heard silence where there had been movement.

“You don’t look well,” Thimble said.

His tone came out sharper than he intended. “That’s a shame since it’s what I’m best at.”

People often commented on his looks, acting like he couldn’t be hurt by their dismissive tones. Sometimes he’d wanted to shout that he could be more than a Breeder, if they let him. The few times he said something along those lines, the laughter shut him up. They had mocked, Why would you want anything else? You got food and easy work, just for—

His hands curled into fists. Some of the Hunters had acted like he was lucky because he got to mate on command. But it wasn’t wonderful when it was work. Sometimes it was even difficult to find the necessary interest, if he disliked the female Breeder he had been assigned. Sometimes it was awful; and sometimes, just awkward. They’ll need you even more in days to come. The thought of bringing more brats into this situation sickened him.

“You’re good with the brats.”

And killing girls, too. His head swam with dark images.

“I hope things settle down,” he muttered.

“Me too.” But her expression didn’t reveal much hope. “What happened, Stone? We’ve never lied to each other and I can see there’s something

but if you’d rather not tell me, just say so.”

“I fought.” Two words shouldn’t cut his throat like that. The sickness intensified.

Thimble stilled, as if trying to decide how to respond. Finally, she asked, “For who?”

“For my life. I didn’t have much choice.”

“Was it bad?” Her sympathy almost killed him.

“Yeah,” he rasped. “Bad.”

They shared a worried glance, and then she said, “I should get to the workshop.”

He nodded, shifting Boy23 to a more comfortable position on his hip. “I’ll see you soon.”

Chapter 5

Thimble found the workshop in utter disarray.

A few Builders had arrived before her, and they were attempting to instill some order in the chaos, salvaging the materials hadn’t been destroyed. She could tell what items had been used as weapons by the dark stains dried upon them. Rod, the head Builder, had survived and he led the restoration, but he wore a sad, drawn look, as if he knew conflict like this only ended in grief. He was the oldest of the Builders; he had few close friends, but the workshop had been his pride and joy.

Finally, Rod turned to Thimble with a sigh. He didn’t seem to think they could really restore order, but he said, “Start sorting by type.”

She set to work. A long while later, she was still at it when the screaming started. It wasn’t the shrill pitch of alarm; this was the raw sound of human agony. Thimble cut a look at Rod, who seemed dull and empty. He should be giving instructions, taking charge, but instead, she had to prompt him.

“What’s happening?”

Before he could respond, the stench hit her, distinct from the human dead, charred meat, and spilled blood. This was a deeper rot, that of bone-deep corruption, and though she’d never smelled it herself, she had heard the stories from the Hunters. From Deuce.

Horror paralyzed her throat for countless moments, then she rasped, “Freaks.”

Rod offered a slight, hopeless nod. No words could suffice, now.

“What do we do?”

The head Builder shrugged. “Hide. Die. It doesn’t matter. The enclave is finished, like Nassau. We don’t have the numbers or resources to drive off an attack right now.”

“They’re inside the barricades?” she asked.

“If not now, then soon. There’s no point in any of this.” With that, he strode from the workshop; though where he was going, Thimble had no idea. Death rode on his shoulder like a winged shadow, stalking his every step, and she knew she would not see him again.

I let the brats go, she remembered. The Breeders are with them. Hopefully, they’ll protect them. Find somewhere to hide—

But when she heard the distant cries of young voices, abruptly cut short, she realized it hadn’t been enough. Fear and weakness drove her to her knees, and it made her feel as though the long hours she’d guarded them had been for nothing. The awareness hit her so hard she lost her breath. Losing brats was inevitable in the enclave. Sometimes they got sick, and they didn’t get better. It was sad

and it was life. But this? Wasn’t normal. Not losing so many at once to monstrous, starving beasts.

I let them go. I let them down. They were our future

The loss settled just below her heart like a blade buried in her chest. Nobody would ever be able to dig it out. She would die with this knife cutting her endlessly from within. I should have fought for them when that Breeder came. Yet that was unreasonable; it would’ve flouted enclave rules, and she checked the thought below the tide of grief.

Just beyond the workshop, Silk snapped at her Hunters, “Take the fight to them. Guard the access points. If we force them to bottleneck, we have a chance.”

“Do we really?” a deep male voice asked.

Silence came in reply. Maybe they had moved out of earshot. Maybe.

But Thimble could imagine what the small, fierce woman would say. Odds don’t matter. We fight. To the last man, to the last breath, we fight. The imagined words, even echoing in her own head, gave her the courage to push to her feet. Her ankle throbbed with tenderness that lanced all the way down into her toes. She ignored it; she was accustomed to the pain.

Sounds of combat sprang up all over the enclave, which echoed with snarls and growls, inhuman screams of pain choking off in a wet gurgle. The Hunters were giving everything they had. Over the din, Silk shouted orders, but she was short of breath. She wasn’t just commanding; she was fighting. And that meant the situation was dire.

I have to get out of here. But where?