“And you,” he continued, turning to Becky, a cruel smile creeping onto his tired face. “You knew what happened to people who run. Don’t you think that people followed Benson because they saw you join him? People trusted you, Becky, and you led them to their deaths.”

She stood, and I thought for a moment she was going to storm out. Her chest rose and fell with painful, angry breaths.

Isaiah grinned. He opened his mouth to speak, but she didn’t let him.

“You’re wrong,” she said. Her voice was quiet but firm, and it rose with intensity as she spoke. “Every single person who followed you had a death sentence the moment they joined the Society. If they’d listened to you, they’d sit in that school until they died or got hauled here. And then they’d sit here until they died or got hauled somewhere else. People got killed during the escape, but at least they died fighting.”

He barked back, spreading his arms wide. “Are you seriously saying that everyone in this room would be better off dead?”

“Everyone there knew what they were getting themselves into,” she yelled. “They went willingly.”

“They thought he”—Isaiah jabbed a finger at me—“had a plan.”

Gabby was on her feet now, her hand clutching her stomach as she shouted. There were calls from the windows, too, from behind the curtains, and more bodies pressed in at the door. Becky’s face was pained and straining, but she was closer to Isaiah now, her voice drowned out by the chaos.

I stood and reached for her arm, but she ignored me and kept on yelling.

Birdman clapped his hands and called the room to order. No one paid any attention. It was only then that I noticed that the other leaders—Harvard, Mouse, and Shelly—were quietly staying out of things.

Birdman stomped his feet and clapped his hands once more. “Quiet,” he bellowed.

Becky pulled away from me and slapped Isaiah. For a moment he reeled back, only to come up fighting. He threw a punch and I stepped in front of it, his fist deflecting off my shoulder.

There was a tremendous crash.

“Shut up,” Birdman yelled again, standing over a long wooden bench he’d just toppled. “Shut the hell up, all of you.”

I wanted to hit Isaiah—just one punch to punish him for everything he’d done. But it wouldn’t be enough. It couldn’t ever be enough.

Birdman seethed. Isaiah glared back, his face reddening from the slap.

“You were the big man at the school,” Birdman said, motionless.

Isaiah was standing firm, but silent.

“I don’t know if you’ve figured out how this place works. But we can see what’s going on inside people’s heads.” He reached out with one arm and touched Shelly’s hair. She shook his hand away. “Shelly was part of your gang. Every time her dupe saw something important over there, Shelly saw it here.”

Isaiah’s voice shook. “I kept the peace.”

Someone at a window swore, and Mouse laughed. Shelly looked uncomfortable, like she didn’t want to be mentioned—or even to be in the room.

Birdman bent and whispered something to Harvard, who nodded and pushed his way out the door.

“You kept the peace,” Birdman said, crossing his muscular arms and taking a step toward Isaiah.

“If you saw what was going on then you know about the war,” Isaiah said. “I led the truce. I fought for peace.”

Skiver scoffed and started to speak, but Birdman gestured for him to be quiet. The wave of his hand was hardly noticeable, but there was something about it so menacing and powerful that the color drained from Skiver’s face.

“I think the key word there,” Birdman said, “is that you fought for peace. You and your boys killed people until the rest were too afraid to fight anymore. That’s peace?”

“I didn’t—” Isaiah said, and then stammered. He broke eye contact with Birdman, and his eyes shot all around the room looking for help. All he found was anger and fear.

“We saw what happened,” Birdman said, taking another step toward Isaiah. “We know who you talked to. We know the orders you gave.”

“I was stopping the war.”

Birdman was now directly in front of Isaiah, inches from his face. Harvard appeared at the door, pulling Jane by the arm.

My stomach dropped. I guessed what was coming next.

She resisted Harvard, straining against his tight grasp, but she didn’t fight him. She must have known there was no way to stop it.

Birdman broke into a fake smile. “Hey! Jane’s here. Isaiah, you remember Jane, right?”

Isaiah’s head hung down, his face to the floor.

“Look at her,” Birdman said.

Jane’s eyes met mine for an instant.

“Look at her!” Birdman grabbed Isaiah’s face with one hand, and his shoulder with the other. Isaiah fell to his knees and stared, terrified, up at Jane.

No one moved.

Birdman’s voice was quiet again. “Dylan lived here until a couple days ago. He told us how you pulled him aside at the dance, after Jane made a toast to Lily. He told us what you ordered him and Laura to do.”

Isaiah moaned—weak and soft, like an animal.

“Laura’s already been on trial. She’s not here right now, because she’s spent the last few weeks in chains. And she was only the pawn. Now we have the king.”

Birdman’s mouth was inches from Isaiah’s ear, but I could hear every word in the dead silence of the room.

And now Birdman was grabbing Jane, shoving her down so she was eye level with Isaiah.

I stepped forward and Harvard shot me a look of frightened caution.

“Say you’re sorry,” Birdman said, a hand on each of their shoulders as he spit at Isaiah. “Tell her what you ordered, you damn murdering bastard, and look her in the eye and tell her you’re sorry.”

Jane pulled away, but Birdman’s grip was iron. She winced as his fingers dug deeper.

“Birdman,” I said. The name came out in a dry whisper.

“Say it,” Birdman barked. “Tell her.”

Harvard motioned for me to step back, but I couldn’t. This wasn’t right. It wasn’t even clear who Birdman was punishing anymore—Isaiah or Jane.

“Let her up,” I said.

Jane’s eyes met mine again, and there was nothing but fear in them.

“Birdman—”

And then they were both thrown to the ground and Birdman was in my face, screaming.

“Hey,” I said, backing up, hands raised. “I’m not looking for a fight.”

“You’re a pansy-ass coward,” he yelled. “You use your traitor girlfriend as an excuse to hide in a hole.”

“Traitor?”

Becky pulled on my arm. “Don’t.”

Birdman threw his arm back and pointed at Isaiah, who was slowly picking himself up off the floor. “She worked for him! For a year! Because she was a coward, just like you.”

Becky jumped in between us. “Stop it! Yes, I was scared.”

“Becky …”

She looked me in the eye, her expression hurt and desperate. “I was scared. I’m still scared.”

We stared at each other. She hadn’t done it because she was scared—she’d done it because, unlike everyone else at that school, she was genuinely concerned about other people. She didn’t want anyone to get hurt. She’d seen too much death. It wasn’t fear that made her join the Society. It was courage.