Andrew’s mind was heavy as he drove the winding mountain road. He left to get Peter and Charity something to eat and hoped to clear his head along the way. Guilt weighed on his conscience every time Charity’s desperate expression flashed through his mind. Should he have found a way to warn her before bringing her to her father’s house? Could he have given her some insight into what he knew prior to her world crumbling beneath her? Would it have helped? Andrew knew that all the questions of what might have been or what could have happened would do no good, but he could not prevent himself from wondering anyway.

  His knuckles grew white as he tightened his grip on the steering wheel, contemplating ways to bring Charity into understanding the truth about the world as she knew it. That was all a lie. That Rose was part of an underground rebellion and actively fought against Abaddon and the Elite. That Charity herself is in danger. That the Elite could now be watching her every move. That she may never be able to go home again.

  He let out a heavy grunt and focused on the road, deciding the conversation he’d have to have with Charity could wait at least a day. The scent of rich pastries and hot coffee filled his truck as he pulled it into the hospital parking lot. He walked briskly toward the automated doors, attempting to accomplish his goal and return to the house before Charity became suspicious of if he had truly only gone to get food.

  As he approached the front desk, he put on a charming smile and warmly greeted the clerk, a large, old woman in hot pink scrub who was painting her nails a vibrant yellow as half-filled forms and other items covered her desk. She peered over her half-rimmed glasses and smiled wide at Andrew, revealing a smudge of bright red lipstick on her front teeth.

  “Hello,” Andrew said, coughing as nail polish fumes invaded his nostrils, “I’m here to see Leah Terra. She forgot her lunch at home, so I wanted to bring it to her.” Andrew held up a small paper bag as if to verify his story.

  “Well aren’t you just a dear!” The old clerk gushed, waving her freshly painted nails emphatically. Andrew’s eyes burned as the chemically fumes wafted directly toward his face. He held his breath while internally begging the clerk to hurry up. “Go right ahead, darling. She’s working in the triage wing today.”

  “Thank you, ma’am,” Andrew said graciously, sighing in relief the moment he got out of range. He moved quickly toward the hall the clerk had pointed out and listened to her grumbles about a messed up nail fade behind him. Andrew observed the patients and rooms as he passed, feeling a twinge of disdain. There were no serious cases, no injuries, no real trauma patients – there never were. The most dire cases their intensive care unit ever saw were just elderly patients nearing death but afraid to die.

  The hospital was quiet, the staff was happy, and a peaceful lull filled the hospital, just as it did every day. The quaint scene agitated Andrew. It reminded him that Exonernon was nothing more than a utopian facade, that nothing he saw in the sunlight hours was real, and that no one he greeted in this happy hallway knew the true evil and darkness that lurked just outside their homes.

  In reality, their neighbors were being killed or enslaved by order of the very king who swore to protect Exoneron’s people. Some were taken or slaughtered for being related to, or friends with, a person who had made it onto the Abaddon’s hit list. If they were lucky enough to survive, they were forced into hiding, away from all they loved and held dear, while the rest of Exoneron continued on with their masquerade.

  That was the position Charity was in now, and Andrew was determined to get her out and keep her safe before the Elite – or as Andrew preferred to call them, Abaddon’s dogs – could get to her. He had even promised Rose he would protect Charity at all costs just hours before she was found dead, slaughtered by Elite soldiers. Andrew wondered how much of the truth Peter would share with his daughter, if he even knew what really happened himself.

  Usually, Elite kills are passed off as either mountain animal or monster maulings. He assumed the same would be the case for Rose, but he was curious if the Elite would disclose to Peter what really happened, given his high status in the council. If they did, he was curious if Peter would tell his daughter the harsh truth. Andrew supposed only time would tell.

  He rounded the corner and eventually reached the area he assumed Leah should be working. Short, brown eyes, blonde hair, frowns a lot, Andrew repeated the description Uzziah had given him the previous night. Uzziah, Andrew’s best friend, had been working undercover near the hospital, spotting possible Elite victims and attempting to pull them out before they could be hurt. He had met Leah on multiple occasions in doing so.

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  Andrew grinned as he spotted a woman that matched Uzziah’s description, hoping he wasn’t about to make a fool of himself by speaking to the wrong person.

  “Leah Terra?” Andrew asked as he approached.

  “Who are you?” The woman said, backing away.

  “I’m Andrew Stallard, a colleague of Charity’s,” he replied warmly, extending his hand.

  Leah did not accept his greeting and continued to glare at him. “What do you want? How do you know who I am?” Her arms crossed defensively over her chest.

  Andrew put his hand down and did his best not to laugh at Leah’s standoffish behavior. From Uzziah’s explanation, Andrew had assumed she was different from Charity, but he did not expect such a cold, calculating, and skeptical demeanor to come from the closest friend of someone as warm and whimsical as Charity.

  “I just came to tell you that Charity just received some bad news and could use your help right now.” Andrew ran his free hand through his short hair, doing his best to appear as friendly as possible.

  A flicker of worry cracked through Leah’s calloused expression. “Where is she?”

  “Her father’s house,” Andrew answered.

  “Thank you,” Leah murmured, her face finally softening while her arms dropped to her side.

  Andrew cracked a smile and tossed her the paper sack. “You’re welcome,” he said, watching her confused expression with amusement as she pulled out a few fresh pastries. Without another word, Andrew left, assuming he would be seeing Leah again shortly.

  A short while later, Andrew lightly knocked against the large, green door he had followed Charity into earlier that day. Charity opened it, greeting Andrew with a forced smile. Charity’s swollen, red face and bloodshot eyes made Andrew’s heart ache.

  “I have food,” he said kindly as he held up multiple brown bags full of various treats and savory meals. He wasn’t sure whether Peter or Charity would even touch anything he had brought, but he hoped making it available would encourage them to eat something.

  “I also brought you more coffee,” he added, holding up a white paper cup that gave off a rich aroma Charity always seemed to enjoy.

  Charity whispered a faint thank you before walking to the living room, barely acknowledging all the morsels Andrew carried. He began arranging the food on the messy counter and did his best to clean up as much of the disarray as he could. He managed to pick up much of the broken glass and papers, and he was careful to take all of the wooden chunks from the dining room table outside before sweeping to ensure no lingering glass shards or wood splinters remained.

  He then listened to the quiet whimpers coming from the other room. His heart broke for this family. He had seen this same scenario played out countless times throughout his life, and while it was never easy, this one hit particularly hard. Rose had been his mentor for many years; he would even go so far to say that she was like a second mother to him. He had wept over Rose the morning his scouts found her body, and to see her own family so broken made it difficult for him not to join them in their sorrow. However, he knew now was not the time. Charity had enough questions left unanswered, and he didn’t want to add to it by having her realize Andrew knew Rose personally.

  He swallowed the ball that had formed in his throat and made a cup of water before walking the short path to the couch where he found Charity curled in a fetal position, weeping quietly. He stood for a moment, listening to loud wails and an occasional crash as something was either broken or thrown in a bedroom not far from the living room. He pressed his lips in a thin line as he saw Charity flinch with each resounding crash, certain her father’s state was only adding to the pain she felt.

  He sat beside Charity and gently nudged her. She sat up abruptly and wiped her wet face with the back of her hands, surprised that Andrew was still there. She gingerly accepted the full water cup from Andrew’s outstretched hand and then let the liquid quench her parched throat.

  “Thanks, but you don’t have to stay,” she whispered, her voice hoarse from crying. Her bottom lip began to tremble as she ran a finger around the rim of the now empty cup.

  “Do you want me to go?”

  “No, but you can leave if you want,” Charity said, her gaze still fixed to the clear rim around the glassware.

  “Why would I leave?” Andrew asked. As he spoke, he noticed some of Charity’s curls had stuck to her wet face, and he gently brushed them away.

  “Why wouldn’t you?” Charity responded, clearly confused.

  “Because I’m a decent human being,” Andrew chuckled.

  “But you barely know me.”

  “Why does that matter?”

  “I don’t know. I just feel like it should. Why would you want to stay in a house where the only other two people present are doing nothing but crying, especially when you don’t even really know them?” Charity wiped another tear as it fell from her eye.

  “I’d like to think you and I are on the verge of becoming friends, especially since you’ve done nothing but ask me questions for two days now,” Andrew teased. A small smile slipped past Charity’s quivering lips.

  “So,” Andrew continued, throwing his arm around the back of the couch, “since we’re almost friends, I see no reason to leave, unless you want me to of course.”

  “I don’t understand you,” Charity resigned, “but… thanks.”