“He died a year ago.” He says this quickly. Like he feels no sentiment over the matter, but I know that’s not true. Emotion edges the tightness in his voice. “His second in command, Dumont, is in charge, but he’s away . . . on important business right now.”

Important business. In other words none of your business.

“And while he’s gone, you’re in charge of this . . . cell.”

“It’s not a dictatorship. I’m one of three captains. We operate under careful guidelines. Dumont trusts us to keep things operating smoothly in his absence. Two of the three of us have to agree. Majority rules. This is to keep us from making risky or stupid decisions.”

Despite his age, he’s a leader. It’s in his bearing, the way he stands with his shoulders back, his legs spread apart like he’s at the prow of a ship. It’s etched into his face, the grooves bracketing his mouth you can almost mistake for dimples. He reveals nothing unless he wishes to. He compels people to obey. Hadn’t he commanded me to live when he found me, clinging to life by a thread?

“Decisions like what to do with me?”

He doesn’t respond, but he doesn’t need to. His silence only serves as confirmation. My fate, at what point I might leave this place, is entirely up to him.

He advances slowly, closing the distance between us with long strides. “You sent for me. I’m here. What did you need?”

“I need to leave.”

His lips twitch like I’ve said something of great amusement. “You’re in no condition to go anywhere.”

I bite back the instant argument that springs to my lips and inhale through my nose. “When, then?”

“Do you have someplace to be?” An innocent question, but there’s an undercurrent to it. A hint of curiosity and something more. He’s fishing. Nosing for information about me. Like I could be something more than what is present.

I hold his gaze. “I was going to Mexico. With my friends. I need to find them.”

“Do you know where they’re headed?”

“My friend Gil got in contact with someone. Clearly not as organized as your group.” I shrug helplessly, wishing I knew more. “We were going to a refuge over there.”

“There are half a dozen refuges you could be talking about.”

Despair swells in my chest. Why didn’t I know more? Why hadn’t I asked more questions? Why hadn’t Sean or Gil explained our plans more fully to me? Of course we could have gotten separated. I see that now. That should have occurred to us. To me. I drop my head into my open palm. “I’m so stupid.”

“Hey. No one plans on getting shot.”

Helplessness washes over me. “I’m stuck here, and they probably think I’m dead.”

Sean’s not coming back for me. Even if he wants to. He’s practical. He’s always been practical. He was willing to leave me at Mount Haven if I didn’t escape with him. He never was one to lose his head over emotion. He’ll have calculated the odds of me being alive . . . of him finding me . . .

A lump rises in my throat. By that math, he would never return.

“Why don’t you give me the names and descriptions of your friends? I’ll send a message through our network.”

“You mean that? Their names are Sean and Gil and Sabine.”

“If they’re at one of the refuges, I’ll eventually find out.”

I look up at him, hope stirring in my chest. “How long is eventually?”

He shrugs. “A week. Two.”

Two weeks here? I swallow past the lump in my throat. As if he can read some of my thoughts, he adds, “You can heal and rest during that time. You’ll be comfortable. But while you’re in here, this door remains locked. For your protection. Understand?”

The tightness in my chest loosens as I stare into the velvet depths of his eyes. I nod, understanding then that the door is not simply to keep me in, but to keep me safe. “Okay.” It’s been a long time since I’ve felt comfortable. I’m not sure if I can be comfortable, if that’s even possible, but at least I’ll be safe. “Okay.”

The door opens and Phelps steps inside. “Sorry to interrupt, but I need to check on my patient.”

Caden nods and moves to the door, holding the edge with his hand while looking back at me. “We’ll talk again later, Davy. I want to hear more about this camp you came from.” And then he’s gone.

I wince slightly at his parting words. The last thing I want to do is talk about Mount Haven, but if it can help Caden and what he’s doing here, then I will. For no other reason than that I owe him for saving my life.

“Let’s change your gauze and check on your stitches.”

Shaking off my thoughts, I nod and permit Phelps to inspect my shoulder. Rhiannon soon joins him, wearing her perpetual look of revulsion at the sight of my wound. It’s almost funny, considering she works in the infirmary.

“Looks good. No infection.”

“I could really use a shower.”

Phelps glances at Rhiannon. “I think with Rhiannon’s help you could manage that.”

The girl gives one terse nod.

“Thank you,” I say.

Phelps beams, and I realize with a cringe that it’s probably the first polite thing to come out of my mouth. He pats my arm. “You’re going to be fine. Shower today. Maybe tomorrow, if you’re feeling better, Rhiannon can give you a tour of the facility.”