I sank onto the bed and lifted the bowl, relieved to realize I could feel the warmth in my hands. Feeling had returned to my fingers. And the stew smelled pretty damn good.

Alex watched as I scooped up a spoonful of beef and carrots—hours before starting a war was not a good time to begin a hunger strike—and I briefly considered trying to charm him into talking about the guns. He was barely out of high school—too young to have much real experience with women, and just arrogant enough to believe I might actually have a change of heart, once I’d spent a little time with the sex magnet he surely thought he was.

But then I realized that the thought of touching him made me sick to my stomach, and I wasn’t that good an actress.

Okay, back to the old tried-and-true: piss him off until he says what I need to hear.

When he noticed me looking, Alex put on his game face—an almost believable expression of regret. He was still trying to win me over. Idiot.

“You know, I get why you hate me, me being your jailer, and all.”

I shook my head. “You’re just doing your job. I hate you because of Ethan.”

He frowned while I chewed. “I didn’t kill your brother.”

I swallowed my first bite, another spoonful halfway to my mouth. “You were in charge of the group that came for Kaci—which just proves your dad’s an idiot. A leader is responsible for his men’s actions, and you let one of them kill Ethan. That makes it your fault.” As well as his father’s.

Alex’s pale brown eyebrows drew together. “How was I supposed to know Gibson was gonna pounce?”

I dropped my spoon back into the bowl, pissed now, even beyond the scope of my intended manipulation. “It’s your duty to know how the men under you are going to react in any given situation. If you don’t know them, how are you supposed to lead them? You should never have taken…Gibson?” I asked, and he nodded, anger and shame clearly at war on his face. “You should never have taken Gibson on that assignment. Ethan was no threat to him—didn’t even know he was there—and Gibson killed him, anyway. You were going after a thirteen-year-old girl! What if he’d attacked Kaci instead?”

Alex bristled, and I was almost surprised to see him show a little backbone. “Look, I didn’t ask for that assignment, and I didn’t pick the men. So you can’t hate me for something I didn’t even do.”

“Grow up, Alex.” I set down the bowl and grabbed the thermos. “A real leader wouldn’t make excuses. He’d just make sure something like that never happens again.” I gulped from the thermos, but cold water couldn’t put out the flames of rage burning deep within me. “But you’re not a leader, and the men under you know it. And so does your dad. He’s only trying to put you in my bed because he knows he can manipulate you, and that’ll give him control of two territories.”

“He doesn’t manipulate me. He’s my dad.” Alex spoke through clenched teeth, and his growing anger fed my own.

I scooped another bite from the bowl, watching him over my spoon. “He was Brett’s dad, too, right? Yet he manipulated you into killing your own brother.” His eyes widened and he glanced at the closed door, clearly thinking of all the ears listening in from the other room. “I’m not seeing a strong father-son relationship here, Alex. You two make Anakin and Luke look like Andy and Opie.”

He dropped his head again, staring at the carpet as he spoke. “Brett fell out of a tree.”

“Right. And you’re the only one who saw it happen, right? Everyone knows what you did, and they know your dad made you do it because Brett had decided to come play for the good guys.”

“You think you’re one of the good guys?” Alex stood, gesturing angrily now. “You handed Lance over to the thunderbirds. You chose another species over one of your own kind!”

“I did what I had to do to save Kaci. And we both know Lance was guilty. But I let you and Dean live, even after you tried to kill Jace and make a jack-o’-lantern out of my face. Would a bad guy do that?”

“Only a moron would do that,” Alex retorted, and before I could argue—which I was itching to do with my fists—he rushed on. “You’re a hypocrite, Faythe. You talk about honor and mercy, yet you’re willing to let your whole species die out just because you’re a frigid bitch. That’s not honor—it’s extinction. It’s slow-motion genocide.”

My hand went slack around my spoon. I couldn’t get past his accusations. Was that what everyone thought of me? That I wanted to flush my entire species down the evolutionary toilet? No wonder so many of them hated me. But they were wrong. About everything.

I dropped my bowl on the nightstand, and broth splashed onto the wood. “You are so full of shit, you reek from a mile away. And so does your dad, if that’s the kind of bull he’s been feeding you. You can’t blame an entire species’ propagation problems on one woman wanting to have a life of her own before she’s ready to create several more. And frankly, the longer I listen to your bullshit, the less I want to have children, for fear they’ll turn out like you! Maybe our species wasn’t meant to survive. Did you ever think of that? Maybe there’s a reason we have so few women, and maybe that reason is because assholes like you and your father, and his pathetic, ass-kiss followers, don’t deserve to be here, much less to warp an entire new generation of toy soldiers and broken-spirited baby machines.”