“For lack of a better option.”

“Are there really rules, or you’re just making that up as a way to control everyone?”

The easy rhythm of his breathing shifts ever so slightly.

“Think you know me so well, do you?”

“Well enough to know you’re a control freak. Answer the question . . . please,” I add as incentive.

“There are rules.” He pauses. “And some of them are ones I put in place.”

“With the others.”

“The others?”

“The ones in charge of the teams in the other clearings, the ones only you and I can see. Are they on that committee you mentioned?”

“No teams. Every man for himself.”

“So you keep reminding me, but you’re just talking the talk because here you are, watching out for me. Again. Who are the people in the other lobbies?”

“There are no other lobbies. They’re all parts of the same lobby.”

“Can they see us?”

“Some of them can.”

“Why can I see them when Luka and Tyrone can’t?”

Again, the easy rhythm of Jackson’s breathing shifts, telling me that whatever answer he offers, it won’t be the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

“Because we’re alike, you and I.”

“Aaaand you’re back to being cryptic.” I change direction and ask, “So while we’re here, in the game, you can tell me things that you can’t talk about back in the real world.”

“Yes.”

“Which means the issue isn’t about me having the knowledge. It’s about something else. It’s about people—humans—overhearing, or about the Drau listening in.”

“Yes.”

“The Drau can’t listen in here?”

“No.”

I think about that, and then offer a theory. “Because they’re piggybacking on human technology to do their spying. Like the satellites you mentioned in the park. And human technology doesn’t extend to the game.”

“Yes.” He sounds pleased as he says it. I get the feeling he wanted me to figure that out. I wonder why, if that’s the case, he didn’t just tell me in the first place.

I sigh. It’s like pulling teeth. He’s giving me only what I ask for and not a single word more. Maybe an open-ended question . . . “So tell me about them, the Drau.”

“Information is power?”

“Too cliché?”

“Maybe. But still true. They come from a planet that’s . . . harsh. Harsh terrain. Harsh climate. Limited resources. Vicious predators.”

“But it’s mostly sunny. That binary star thing, right?”

“So you do listen to what I say.”

“Every word.”

His hands leave my shoulders and he wraps both arms around me, settling me more fully against him and holding me close. I blow out a shaky breath. I’m lying on the ground, in a cave, in the dark, wrapped in a boy’s embrace. Not just any boy. Jackson Tate. Infuriating, arrogant, gorgeous, competent, deliciously warm Jackson Tate. “They fought each other on their own world for thousands of years, and eventually they destroyed it.”

“Destroyed? Completely? Like they blew up the planet?”

“Close. They turned it into a wasteland. Their weapons weren’t nuclear based, but it’s a good comparison. Think about what we’d do if we unleashed a nuclear holocaust.” I cringe at the images that conjures. “They lived in that wasteland for centuries, and all the while, they worked and planned and plotted how to get off their broken hunk of rock. You’d think they’d have learned from their mistakes. You’d think that when their technology finally reached a level allowing them to go elsewhere, they’d be different.”

“But they weren’t.”

“No. They wiped out entire populations. They raped planets for their resources. They left a trail of broken worlds behind them. They are predators, and they don’t care what destruction they leave in their wake. In fact, they enjoy it. The worlds that fight the hardest give them the most pleasure.”

As if the entire explanation weren’t bad enough, that last bit shoves a blade in my gut and twists. “What you said in Vegas, about how our ancestors fled to Earth and lived among humans . . .”

“They chose Earth because they knew they could survive here, not just for one lifetime, but by having offspring. The DNA was compatible. Their appearance was compatible. Their needs for oxygen and sustenance similar.”

“How do you know all this?”

I feel him shrug. “It wasn’t just physical similarity,” he says, continuing as if I hadn’t even asked a question. “Our ancestors believed humans were tenacious and brave and honorable, that they would fight for what mattered.”

“You’re talking in generalities here. Not all humans are like that.”

“Agreed. But the good ones outnumber the bad.”

I shake my head. “Wow. You’re an optimist. Wouldn’t have expected that.”

“I’m all about the unexpected.”

I fall silent, trying to figure everything out. There are things here that don’t add up. I don’t know why Jackson’s telling me all this. He’s not exactly a forthcoming kind of guy, and I have a feeling that if I ask Luka about any of this, he won’t have a clue because Jackson won’t have told him any of it. So why is he telling me?