“The Keepers are the enemy, Ren,” I said. “We’ve been fighting on the wrong side of this war.”

“How can you be sure?”

“I know the Searchers now,” I said. “I trust them. They helped me rescue our pack.”

His smile was harsh. “Some of it.”

“The others made their choice.”

“And I didn’t?” His eyes were obsidian dark, angry. But I didn’t think his rage was directed at me.

When I closed my eyes briefly, unable to take in the torrent of regret that flooded Ren’s stare, I was back in Vail, in a cell deep beneath Eden. I remembered the desperation in Ren’s voice, the fear in my own.

“They said I have to.”

“Have to what?”

“Break you.”

I shuddered as the memory of slamming into the wall and tasting blood in my mouth rushed over me. Forcing myself back into the room, I caught Ren’s slightly sick expression and I knew his mind had been in the same place.

I swallowed, clasping my hands so they wouldn’t shake. “I hope you didn’t.”

He didn’t answer, but gazed at me.

“I don’t believe you wanted to hurt me,” I said. “And I don’t think you would have, even if Monroe hadn’t-”

My words dried up in my throat. It was true, but that didn’t take away the memory. The horror of those moments had been etched on my bones.

“I wouldn’t have,” Ren whispered.

I nodded, though I wasn’t sure I believed it. What mattered now was getting him out of here and away from the world that twisted him into someone who could hurt me. He started to lift his hand, as if to touch my cheek, but then let it drop back to his side.

“Did the Searchers send you to find me?”

“Sort of.”

His brow shot up.

“Monroe wanted to find you,” I said.

Ren’s jaw tightened. “The man my-the man Emile killed.”

I noticed the way he’d stopped himself. He didn’t want to call Emile his father.