"Strip."

I blink, the order coming across like a slap to the face. "Excuse me?"

Skye crosses her arms across from me, glaring harder. "I'm not asking. Strip."

"Why?"

Skye points to the door leading out of the small room she and her father drug me to, Breanne standing stiffly in the corner with her hand on her pistol. "Because I said so," Skye growls. "And because your Widow friend there had her mark hidden. Be glad I volunteered to search you instead of Phillip or one of the boys."

I gulp, the idea of being ordered to strip by a man making my blood run cold. I blink, carefully unbuttoning my bomber. "How far?"

"Undergarments."

I sigh, carefully laying my bomber across the back of the plastic chair. I try to make it quick by removing my button-up, shirt, boots, and pants until I'm standing in my briefs and sports bra in the freezing room.

"Arms out," Skye orders as she stands and circles me. I do what she says, trying to stop myself from shivering so much. She grabs my bandaged arm, and I wince. "What's under these bandages?"

"Some cuts," I tell her, but she doesn't listen.

She unwraps my arm to double-check anyway, not even batting an eye at the grotesque scratches from my fight with the Banshee.

"Satisfied?" I growl as I glare at her. Skye glares back at me as she walks back to my clothes and starts turning out all of my pockets, removing various small supplies until the locket tumbles out. Eyebrows knit, Skye picks it up and gives it a look over as I stiffen, trying not to give away its importance. 

Satisfied that the locket is just a locket and not a zippo or some sort of weapon, she sets it back down with the rest of my things and stands. Breanne moves in to grab my belongings after her sister examines them, including the locket, though I remain silent, hoping they'll give it back to me after this ordeal.

Assuming we survive.

"Get dressed," Skye demands, sitting back at the table. "You and I are going to have a nice little chat."

Glad to finally be free to dress myself again, I quickly do so as Skye glares at me. In the corner, Breanne remains stiff but has the decency to look away.

"Who the hell is that woman in Williams's office, and how do you know her?" Skye asks.

"Her name is Danielle," I answered as I put my button-up back on. "She goes by Dani though. My siblings and I met her and a few others a few months ago up north at a place called Camp Cottonwood."

"Where up north?" Skye demands, taking out a map and unfolding it on the table. "Point it out."

I step into my boots and walk to the table, sitting down to glance over the map before I tie my laces. "There," I point to the general area I remember the camp being. "It was attacked by Widows on my first day there, though."

Skye's eyes narrow at the news. "Why would the Widows attack their own?"

I roll my eyes, just as clueless as she is. "Why the Hell would I know that?"

"Phillip said that the lady who captured your people was looking for you two by name," Skye notes, her voice hard. "How do you know that lady?"

"I don't," I tell her. "Not personally, anyway. She was there when her people attacked Cottonwood, and she was apparently looking for specific people. I didn't find out until later that it was because she..." I pause, glancing at my boots. Is that information I should be telling her? Is that something I should be the one to say? "Because they knew each other previously..." I trail off.

Skye sits forward at the news, steepling her fingers. "Knew each other how?"

I shake my head, shrugging. "They were... familiar," I say. "She never went into detail."

"What about the others from your group?" Skye demands. "The ones you were telling us about."

"My brother and sister are clean," I growl. "I'm at least fairly certain Sparrow is too, but..."

"And the last one?" Skye urges.

"I don't know," I confess.

"What do you mean you don't know?"

"I mean just that!" I snap, and Breanne's hand tightens on her pistol. I gulp, not realizing that I had leaned forward with the remark. "I thought they were all clear since they were hiding from the Widows. I had no reason to believe that they had anything to do with them."

Josh's story about the refugee center resurfaces in my mind as well, and I have to wonder if that was a lie too. My heart aches as the pieces fall in place, and I squeeze my eyes shut, rubbing my face.

"What happened to Cottonwood?"

I sigh. "It was evacuated. After the Widow attack, I and a few others had to get a distraction going to escape, so we drew in a hoard of Ferals to where we found the Widow camp. While they were busy being eaten, we escaped."

"Where are they now?"

I pause, wondering if she means to try and attack the survivors. "I don't know, they likely have moved on since then."

"What's your connection to Dani?"

I blink, unsure of how to answer that now. 'Friends' seems to have a hollow ring to it now, but we've been through too much together for it to seem wasted. "She... she saved my life several times since we met. She and Josh both."

"What's your business in Atlanta?"

"I have someone here I have to meet with."

"Where?"

"The CDC."

Skye's eyes narrow at that, and I can see a flood of even more questions forming behind her eyes. "Who?"

"My mom, she's a researcher there." There's no reason to lie about it anymore, though she doesn't need to know the exact reasoning behind my desire to see her.

"Do you know what's going on? With the infection?"

I shake my head. "I'm as clueless as you are, I just want to see my mom again," I lied.

Skye watches me for a long moment, processing my answers. As the seconds tick by, I'm almost convinced she'll order Breanne to shoot me, but after what feels like an eternity, she finally speaks again. "Williams is going to patch your Widow friend up, and when she's awake, I'm going to question her next. We'll see how well your stories align." She stands, glancing at her sister. "Bree, take her to holding. I'm going to talk to Williams."

Bree nods and cuffs me, leading me out of the room behind Skye before we split off. Through a winding series of halls and down a flight of stairs, I'm led into a fortified room in a quiet section of the hospital. Once inside, the door is shut and locked behind me, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

The room is barren, with only a cot and a single blanket. The drawers and doors of the cabinets have been removed, along with the shelves, nearly the whole thing being gutted to ensure that nothing can be used to escape. Not even a window graced the walls of this new, sterile cell. It would take someone much more clever than me, anyway, seeing as how I have been disarmed, handcuffed, and all of my belongings stripped from me besides my clothes. I sit on the cot, my head in my hands, and sigh.

Dani was one of them.

The sense of betrayal that comes with the thought angers me, and I hate how much it hurts. I want to be hopeful, to believe that maybe there's a reason for it all, that perhaps it isn't what it seems, but it makes too much sense now. Her connection to Jessica, why the psycho Widow seems to want her back so much, Josh, and his cagey responses about the Widows.

The Widow I had captured after the assault knew about Leon, and seemed scared of him, so it makes sense that he would be with the Widows. Was he branded too? And what does the branding mean? Someone with the Widow tattoo had to kill someone in front of a Widow to earn their mark, it's common knowledge for anyone who knows anything about the bastards. But I've never seen anyone with their symbol branded into them before.

It is a symbol of a higher-ranking official? Does it mean they have more of a connection to the Widow leader? Why are they no longer with the Widow masses? Why does Jessica want Dani and Josh so badly?

As the minutes turn to hours, the questions just keep echoing in my head. I want to know why she lied about who she was. I want to know the whole story between her and Jessica. I want to know the truth.

Did Dani kill anyone for the mark? Does Josh have the same brand in his skin? Does Leon? Did anyone else at Cottonwood? Is that why Jessica is so hell-bent on finding and taking Dani back?

Several more hours pass as I sit in the room with nothing else to do but spiral. Eventually, a slat in the bottom of the door opens up, and a tray of food slides in, a small piece of paper folded neatly under the flimsy plasticware. I haven't realized just how long I've been sitting until I stand and my legs protest, nearly giving out from under me. I grab the small tray and carry it back to the cot to eat, giving the paper a look over.

'Dani survived the surgery,' is what the paper reads.

I pause, my hands shaking. Dani survived. I should be thankful for that, and I am, but a larger part of me is impatient. I don't want to see Dani, but I need to see her. I need to hear what she has to say, what sort of defense she might have for this fucked up situation we're in.

The idea of being alone in this room with no one familiar makes my heart sink, and my appetite disappears completely. Not even the smell of hot food is enough to entice me to eat, so I lay the tray down on the ground and curl up on the cot into a dreamless, restless slumber.