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Kathy’s going on about the flirty comment Joseph made to Naomi after drills yesterday, and we’re all kind of giggling when, without warning, the door to the barracks bangs open on its metal hinges, the hard wood slamming loudly against the wall.

There is an almost audible collective intake of breath as Pearce stalks in, his white-blond hair combed slickly off his forehead, his expression impossibly sinister.

“Well!” Pearce trumpets, clapping his hands together loudly like an enthusiastic camp counselor. The girl next to me flinches at the sound. “It’s everyone’s favorite day! Evaluation day! How’s the cleaning coming, gang?” His smile is manic as he peeks into corners and behind bedposts, scanning for offending dirt.

One of the younger kids whimpers, but everyone else is silent, eyes trained forward, shoulders hunched into themselves … anything to melt into the background.

I tense up, white noise flooding my ears and goose bumps erupting on my arms. I keep my head down and wait to be exposed. Someone finally gave me up.

But this doesn’t seem to be about me after all. Pearce takes his time surveying the quarters, then squats down by one of the boys, surveying his work.

“You missed a spot,” he points out with a smile, and the boy seems to shake all over. He furiously polishes the offending area with his toothbrush, but I can see there’s a yellow wet spot forming on the seat of his crisp white uniform.

“There, there,” Pearce coos. “No need for theatrics. This is what’s called making an example. Very honorable thing you’re doing, you realize.”

The boy knows what’s next. We all know. The kid’s lip quivers as he threatens to dissolve into sobs. And as Pearce leans toward the boy, I picture the way the giant’s face peeled back from his skull, and —

“Don’t!” I gasp, scrambling to my feet. Kathy shakes her head at me in warning, alarm in her eyes, but I can’t stop. “Just leave him alone. Please —”

Pearce whips around to face me, sparing the kid. Anger dashes across his face, but it’s quickly replaced by delight — a spider that’s found a fly tangled in its web.

A ravenous spider.

“What have we here?” Pearce purrs in my direction. “A new recruit?” His cold eyes hold me captive, challenging me, and I’m struck once again by how attractive he’d be if he didn’t radiate evil in that bright smile.

I look down at the floor as he strides across the dimly lit barracks. My cheeks heat up under my blond-haired disguise. Does he know it’s me? It’s the longest I’ve ever kept a glamour going, but I’m still afraid there’s some of Wisty showing through.

He circles me like a hawk homing in on its prey and stops behind me. I brace myself for the strike, teeth chattering.

Instead I nearly jump when I feel his hands on my shoulders, moving over my throat threateningly, drifting down my arms. Nothing has ever felt so unnatural, so wrong.

“We have certain policies new recruits have to follow around here, certain … initiations,” he says, almost bored.

My whole body trembles with fear and adrenaline and hatred at his touch.

I could annihilate you, I think. I could throw a ball of fire, burn you down to cinder if you don’t get your slimy paws off me.

But he doesn’t, and I don’t. Because I can’t blow my cover. Because I can’t waste my M just yet, and because — though I don’t want to be — I’m scared, really scared, of this monster.

So his hands sit there on my arms, declaring their silent victory, and my skin crawls.

“It must be a challenge to adapt to life in the barracks, mmm?” he whispers quietly, almost tenderly. “I can imagine how hard it must be when everyone is watching you all of the time, cataloging your every move.” His fingers trace circles around my freckles, and I flinch. “The One is adamant that I report any and all troublemakers immediately. It’s very important to him that we maintain order. But you’re not going to be any trouble, are you?” he whispers harshly into my ear, and I feel bile rising.

I turn to face him and look him in the eye.