I drag Graham down and the bolt buries itself in the wall. I yank the bolt out as Hawthorne rushes to load another. But she is shaking with rage and she fumbles. Graham seizes the opportunity and tackles her, trying to wrench the crossbow away from her.
But Hawthorne swings the crossbow up hard. With a thump, it collides with Graham’s head and he tumbles into the wall.
As Hawthorne tries to right herself, I lunge, thrusting the bolt up, and I feel it find its mark, sliding between her ribs.
Hawthorne gasps, her fingers loosening, and the crossbow falls. I hear something snap.
She staggers back, her blond hair loose around her face, making her look ragged and small and above all, so damn young. She stares at me as she stumbles past, looking around in a daze as her breathing grows labored, and then she slides to the floor.
“Don’t pull it out,” I whisper. “Or you’ll bleed out and die. It’s not your time to join her yet. She’d want more for you. And despite everything, so do I.”
Hawthorne blinks at me owlishly and doesn’t say anything.
I grab Graham by the arm, hoisting him up. “I think I’ve made up for all the times you’ve saved me. So get up and stop throwing yourself in front of projectile objects for me,” I say sharply.
Graham gives me a side-eye, rubbing his temple. “I’m pretty sure if we survive this that I’m going to have a goddamn concussion,” he mutters, and he looks back at Hawthorne. “She’ll be okay, right?”
“I don’t know. Come on,” I say. I rush down the stairs, ignoring my throbbing ankle. But then I stop, Hawthorne’s words still ringing in my ears, and Graham nearly crashes into me. Slowly, I look back at her, as she watches from one story up, unable to pursue. She looks tired. “No, wait. Enough of your ‘woe is me’ monologue. I’m not the villain of your story, Hawthorne. I feel bad for killing Esme. I do. She didn’t deserve to die, but she was an ass. She was classist and kinda racist sometimes and she was coming to kill me. So, no, I’m not going to nobly accept the part you’re trying to cast me in for your revenge fantasy. It’s not that kind of movie.”
CHAPTER 34
“BE ON THE LOOKOUT,” I say to Graham as we limp down the stairs. “Penthesilea is still here. Pierce is still here.”
“Don’t worry about them. Four would never hurt anyone. And Pen… Penny will calm down,” Graham insists. He somehow still sounds so sure of himself, of the people around him.
I wonder what that’s like. I don’t think I’ll ever be sure of anything again. I won’t be able to trust anything but my two eyes ever again, and even those have betrayed me over and over again.
Margaret. Saint. Esme. Hawthorne. Margaret. Saint. Esme. Hawthorne.
Those names are as good as burned into my flesh now.
“Oh, Adina, you were so close.”
I’m brought back to now, gasping sharply when I realize that I’ve lost the past ten seconds. I blink hard, bringing Penthesilea into focus.
She’s leaning against the wall on the first-floor landing, arms folded over her chest, eyes closed. When Graham says her name, she opens them, revealing sharp blue.
“Penthesilea?” Graham says, like a question.
“I can’t let you go now,” Penthesilea says quietly, answering it.
“I thought you weren’t here to hurt anyone. You just… wanted to keep Pierce in line,” I say, and I can’t stop my voice from shaking, because she’s right. I am so close and she’s one of the last things standing between me and the door.
“What do you mean, keep Four in line? He hasn’t done anything,” says Graham, furious at the disparagement of his brother’s character. “He’s just… brainwashed.”
Penthesilea smiles blankly.
“Is he?” Penthesilea asks softly. “Open your eyes, Graham. Pierce always knew that this was how it would end. He wanted this, Graham. He orchestrated this. He decided he wanted her to be the one to live probably thirty seconds after he invited her.”
Graham frowns. “No, he didn’t. He wanted to change the Finish. He wanted to even the playing field. He… he tried to change what he could.”
Penthesilea shakes her head and finally pushes off the wall, tapping the bat against the floor over and over again, like it’s matching her heartbeat.
“No, he didn’t. He changed what he didn’t like. What was convenient to the narrative he’d had in his head. Third wanted it to be me, but that didn’t work for Pierce. Pierce wanted a girl who’d realize that she’d kill for him. Pierce found me boring because he knew I would. I was already finished, and Pierce likes a project,” says Penthesilea, cutting her eyes to me and then back to Graham again. Graham looks at me, and then her again, trapped between two people telling him over and over again that he has failed in making his brother a decent human being. Penthesilea scoffs. “Your brother is a psychopath. You’re just blind.”
“Is that what you think of me, Pen?” Penthesilea looks up, past us, her gaze catching on the golden boy himself. Pierce slowly walks down the steps, staring at Penthesilea with the most wounded expression on his face, like his heart is actually breaking. “You think I’m crazy?”
“I think you’re a narcissistic asshole,” Penthesilea says gently, almost kindly. “I think that you ruin everything you touch, that you want to devour everything you see.”
“You’re not, Four,” Graham insists. He is so desperate to believe the lie. Even now, even after throwing himself in front of me, he’s still a coward in the face of his brother. “She doesn’t know you—”
“I. Know. Him!” Penthesilea snaps. Then she tugs back the bitterness, trying to bottle it back up, but her expression grows frantic as she can’t quite manage it, like she’s about to burst at the seams with resentment. “I know that he knew. He knew that all these girls were going to come here, fighting for opportunity, dying for his affection. How do you think the ones not from Edgewater found out what it really was? Why do you think only Adina was left in the dark? He thought it would be too expected if I won, like a subpar season finale. Poor, innocent Adina has the better story.”
Pierce shakes his head, tutting to himself.
“I love you, Pen. I’ve always loved you,” Pierce says. He’s talking to her like a wild animal and creeping close to us, like he means to defend us against her.
Penthesilea chokes on a laugh. “You don’t love anything but your—”
The sound of a gunshot never gets familiar, especially at close range. It booms, so loud that for a moment all I hear is white noise, and then I find the source: that small handgun that I had in the Raid, aimed right at Penthesilea, is cradled in Pierce’s hand.
Penthesilea makes a gurgling sound in the back of her throat and then she collapses, blood already pooling beneath her.
“Pierce!” Graham gasps, head thumping back against the wall. “You… you shot her!”
Hot rage fills my chest, so hot that it feels like the blood in my veins is fueled by that fury. I shove Pierce hard and he bangs into the opposite banister, surprised by my sudden move. I wrench the gun from his hand and take aim, pressing the muzzle against his chest.