She waves a hand in the air. “Sounds kind of horrible when you say it like that, honestly.” Bright white light winks from the razor blade as she tightens her grip on it. “But the best part is—I still will be praised for it all.”
Her mouth quirks up at one corner.
Irun.
She’s fast but so am I, and I have the advantage of slightly longer legs—I run past pillar after pillar, brilliant white and pitch darkness alternating like a strobe light. If she catches me, if shemurdersme, she can create the truth: I won’t be alive to tell anyone otherwise. She can be the hero, she can be the one who saved the station fromme. And of course the deaths will end, because she’ll assume the role of commander. She’ll deftly erase any traces of herself on the vid-feeds, and all Zesi will know is that there was a tablet left out on the station counter—for all he knows, I could’ve been the one who put it there. Haven could plant seeds in his mind to undermine what I told him earlier, when I accused her of being our murderer; she could tell NatalinIasked her to get the witch hazel. She’ll lie, and she’ll pull it off.
I cannot let that happen.
She’s gaining on me; I turn a sharp corner, weave into darkness, try to lose her so I can get behind her somehow and knock the blade from her hand. She’ll be nothing without it—we’llbe evenly matched, at best. A belladonna-laced blade will be my certain death, though, if I let her get close enough. I have no doubt now that she’ll go through with it. She’s delusional, clearly. If the praise she craves is finally within reach, she’ll shred me like a paper snowflake and call it self-defense.
I dart around another pillar, catch a glimpse of the spotlit station. If Zesi happens to look at the vid-feeds at just the right moment—if we’re notunder attack, which we could be, for all I know, though it’s at least slightly reassuring there haven’t been any more alarms—if Zesi sees us on the screen, he’ll have to know I’m the one being hunted, and not the other way around.
I head that way, and she completely takes the bait, follows me. She’s losing ground with every step, out of practice and unable to keep matching my pace. It gives me a split second longer to figure out a plan—I eye the open drawer, look for anything I can use. There are no blades, only microscopes and empty petri dishes and a handful of zip ties.
It isn’t much. But zip ties worked on Akello, when he was yelling outside my door that morning. If I can bind her wrists without getting cut by the razor—
I grab several zip ties, and a microscope for good measure. It’s relatively large, with decent heft, and it’s blunt; I’ve lost my lead, and she’s closing in on me now, and I swear I don’t see anything behind her eyes as she lunges, blade-first.
I ram the base of the microscope out on instinct, feel it connect with her knuckles as she cries out in pain. The blade clatters to the floor, glints under the spotlight—there is blood,only a drop or two—was she cut by the blade, or by the blunt edges of the base? She dives for the blade, so whatever happened didn’t faze her. I kick it away, far out of her reach.
Instead of scrambling after it like I expect, she springs back up, wrenches the microscope away from me, and the next thing I know it’s coming toward my head. I barely dodge a direct hit. If Zesi is seeing any of this go down, he’s not buzzing me, and he’s certainly not here in time to help. Haven swings at me again, and this time, manages to graze my temple. It sends a stinging shock through my head, but the room isn’t swaying or sliding or spinning. Not yet.
We meet eyes, only briefly—finally,finally, there is a hint at recognition there, that I do not deserve this, thatno onedeserves this. I let out a breath, one I’ve been saving in case it happens to be my last. But just as I start to relax, her eyes eclipse again: rings of hazel gold around pupils so dark and dreadful I can’t bear to look.
I hate this. So much, I hate it—
But there is no time to think, because she tries to take full advantage of my hesitation, flinches like she’s going to strike again—and harder this time. Before she gets the chance, I seize her wrist so tightly the microscope falls to the tile; I wrench her arm behind her, not gently, pin her to the lab counter as firmly as I can. I make fast work of the zip ties, twisting her other arm around to meet the first, securing both wrists tightly to each other—
And then it is done.
She could run, yes. But without a blade—or the ability to put in a passcode at any door, with her hands bound behind her, and the fact that I’m already buzzing Zesi before either of us has even caught a full breath—she has nowhere to go. She is no hero, will never be, and we both know it.
I pick up the razor. Toss it into the sink, deep into the drain, where it’s physically impossible for her to dig it out—where it’s physically impossible formeto dig it out and do something I’d forever regret.
Zesi answers on the first try. “Toldyou I’d take care of us!” His voice is light, almost jubilant on the other end. “We’re good. We’regood, Lindley! Boys are on their way back as we speak!” He’s clearly riding a victory high and has no idea what I’ve just been through.
“That’s—that’s incredible, Zesi.” Relief tears spring up, blurring my vision. “Really incredible.”
I can’t take my eyes off Haven, and she won’t take hers off me.
It’s hardly a moment of celebration.
It takes Zesi a few seconds to register my silence. “You okay?” he finally asks. “Need anything?”
Whatdon’tI need?
“Help,” I reply. For once, I’m eager to ask for it. “Also, a long break.”
Haven lowers her eyes.
I don’t know what’s going on behind them.
I don’t know her at all.
All I know is that it’s over.
66
