“Let me go,” Glass ordered, turning to face him.

Carter’s grin widened, sending chills down Glass’s spine. “What’s the problem?” he asked, reaching down to rub his hands over her arms. “We both know how much you like slumming it down on Walden. Don’t pretend to be all choosy.”

“What are you talking about?” Glass spat, wincing as she tried unsuccessfully to break his grip.

He frowned, digging his fingers painfully into her arms. “You think you’re being so rebellious, sneaking around with Luke. But I’ve known plenty of Phoenix girls like you. You’re all the same.” Still holding one of her arms, he reached his other hand around and started to fumble with the waistband of her pants.

“Stop,” Glass said, trying to push him away, horror spreading rapidly through her veins. Then, more loudly, “Stop it! Let me go!”

“It’s okay,” Carter murmured, yanking her closer to him and wrenching her arms above her head. Glass tried to move away, but he weighed more than twice what she did and she couldn’t wriggle free. She thrashed around wildly, trying to jab her knee into his stomach, but she was trapped.

“Don’t worry,” Carter said, filling her ear with his sour breath. “Luke won’t mind. He owes me this, after all I’ve done for him. Besides, we share everything.”

Glass opened her mouth to scream, but Carter had pushed himself up against her chest, and there was no air in her lungs. Black spots danced before her vision, and she felt herself losing consciousness.

Then the door opened, and Carter jumped back so quickly, Glass lost her balance and fell to the floor.

“Glass?” Luke asked, stepping inside. “Are you okay? What’s going on?”

Glass tried to catch her breath, but before she had time to answer, Carter called out from the couch, where he was already reclined in an attitude of calculated carelessness, “Your girlfriend wasgirh her br just showing me the latest Phoenix dance move.” He snorted. “I think she needs a little more practice.”

Luke tried to catch Glass’s gaze, but she looked away. Her heart thumped wildly with fear-fueled adrenaline and rage.

“Sorry I was late—I got caught up talking to Bekah and Ali,” Luke said as he reached down to help her up, naming two of his friends from the engineering corps who had always been nice to Glass. “Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked quietly when she didn’t take his hand.

After what had just happened, all she wanted to do was throw herself into Luke’s arms, to allow the warmth of his body to convince hers that everything was okay. But she’d come here for a reason. She couldn’t let him comfort her.

“Are you okay? Should we go talk in my room?”

Glass glanced over at Carter, summoning her anger and hatred for him to the surface, letting it boil her blood. She stood up.

“I’m not going into your room,” she said, forcing an edge into her voice she didn’t recognize. “Ever again.”

“What? What’s wrong?” Luke asked. He gently pulled on her hand but she snatched it away. “Glass?” The confusion in his voice was enough to make her heart throb.

“It’s over,” she said, shocked at the coldness in her own voice. A strange numbness spread through her, as if her nerves were shutting down to protect her from the grief that would surely destroy her. “Did you really think it was going to last?”

“Glass.” Luke’s voice was low and strained. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about, but could we continue this conversation in my room?” He reached out to place his hand on her arm, and she recoiled from his touch.

“No.” She pretended to shudder in horror, looking away so that he couldn’t see the tears in her eyes. “I can’t believe I let you take me in there in the first place.”

Luke fell silent, and Glass couldn’t help glancing back at him. He was staring at her, his eyes full of hurt. He had always worried that he wasn’t good enough for Glass—that he was keeping her from a better life on Phoenix. And now here she was, using the same fears she had once dismissed to turn Luke against her. “Is that really how you feel?” he asked finally. “I thought we—Glass, I love you,” he said helplessly.

“I never loved you.” She forced the words out of her mouth with such intensity, they seemed to tear out her very soul. “Don’t you see? This was all just a game to me, seeing how long I could go on before I got caught. But I’m done now. I’m bored.”

Luke reached up to take her chin, turning her face up so that their eyes met. She could feel him searching her for some sign that the real Glass was hidden deep inside. “You don’t mean that.” His voice cracked. “I don’t know what’s going on, but this isn’t you. Glass, talk to me. Please.”

For a "-1ing onbrief moment, Glass wavered. She could tell him the truth. Of course he would understand; he would forgive all the terrible things she’d just said. She would lean her head on his shoulder and pretend that everything would be okay. They could face this together.

But then she thought of Luke being executed—the lethal injection shutting down his body before it was released into the cold emptiness of space.

The only way to save Luke’s heart was to break it.

“You don’t even know me,” she said, jerking away from his touch, the pain of her grief slicing sharp and hot through her chest. “Here,” she finished, blinking back tears as she reached behind her neck to unhook the clasp of her locket. “I don’t want this anymore.”

As she dropped it into Luke’s hand he stared at her wordlessly, shock and hurt etched in sharp lines across his face.

She was only vaguely aware of running out of the door and slamming it shut, and then she was racing down the hall, concentrating on the thud of her steps across the skybridge. Left, right, left, right. Just get home, Glass told herself. Just get home, and then you can cry.

But the moment she turned the corner, she staggered and slid to the floor, both hands clutching her stomach. “I’m sorry,” Glass whispered softly, uncertain whether she was speaking to the baby, or Luke, or her own bruised and damaged heart.

ʀublishe

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CHAPTER 21

Clarke

The tension in the infirmary tent was so thick, Clarke could practically feel it pressing against her chest when she breathed.

She hovered wordlessly at Thalia’s side, trying in vain to battle the infection that had already claimed her kidneys and seemed hell-bent on taking her liver next, seething in silent fury at Octavia’s selfishness. How could she sit there, watching Thalia slip in and out of consciousness, and not return the stolen medicine?

But then she glanced over to the corner, where Octavia lay curled up. The sight of her round cheeks and thick lashes made her look painfully young, and Clarke’s anger was replaced by doubt and guilt. Maybe Octavia hadn’t done it. But if not, who had?

Her eyes lowered to the bracelet that encased her wrist. If Thalia could just hold on until the next wave of colonists arrived, she’d be okay. But there was no knowing when that would be. The Council would wait until they had conclusive data on the radiation levels, regardless of what was happening on Earth.

Thalia’s death, she knew, would matter as little to the Council as Lilly’s had. Orphans and criminals didn’t count.

As she watched Thalia’s labored breathing, Clarke felt a surge of white-hot fury. She refused to sit here and just wait for her friend to die. Hadn’t humans cured illnesses for millennia before the discovery of penicillin? There had to be something in the woods that fought infection. She tried to remember what little she’d learned about plants in Biology of Earth class. Who knew if those plants were even around anymore—everything seemed tnt siess, o have evolved strangely after the Cataclysm. But she had to at least try.