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I sigh.

This is so pathetic. The Castaways are so pathetic. I bet if the society were open to women, they wouldn’t have half the problems they have now.

I’ve tried speaking to the guards outside to glean any snippets of gossip. I’ve batted my eyelashes and even played dumb, but I got nothing. I just want to know the basics, but the guards’ lips are sealed.

Why aren’t the Castaways doing anything? How have they allowed this to happen?

They are supposed to be the most powerful secret society in the world.

But me? I want this madness to end. That’s it. No matter who it is. People shouldn’t be dying, and Clement and Fabien shouldn’t be fighting.

My world shouldn’t be tearing itself apart.

And if all this chaos around the Masked Killer somehow resolves, and everything goes back to normal, and vengeance is delivered, then what? My brother won’t give up his sense of betrayal. He’ll still want to kill Fabien, no matter what happens inside today. Their friendship is, seemingly, dead.

And so, I sit on the steps and spiral.

I should’ve told Clement the truth years ago.

I’m in love with your best friend, even though you told him not to even touch me. It happened. We’re in love.

If only I had been braver. If only I had been less stupid. Less willingly blind to the fact that I do love Fabien, and will always love Fabien, then I could’ve stopped a lot of bad things.

And I could’ve saved us so many years of heartbreak.

If I had lived in my truth, I wouldn’t have allowed myself to be pressured by Father to write that email. I would’ve held my ground. Fabien would never have hated me.

I bite down on my tongue.

God, you’ve been so dumb, Jolie.

And now I’m being forced to make a choice.

Well, I’m not going to. I love my thick-headed, possessive brother, and I love my angry, stoic man. I can’t choose between them.

I let my head fall into my hands.

There’s the sound of wheels on gravel. A car has pulled up. I hear the door open, and I look up to see Sylvie exiting the vehicle.

Oh, God.

I immediately get up and rush to her, wrapping my arms around her body in a big, warm hug. I want to make sure she knows she’s not alone right now, that she has me. That I will always be here for her.

Sylvie is usually so poised. So perfect. There is never a hair out of place, or lipstick smudged, or a vulnerable whimper of emotion breaking through her polished exterior. She’s usually so freaking composed...

But as I embrace her, her tears come thick and fast.

Throughout her life, her father has done some terrible things to her in the name of control, but he was still her father. And now he’s dead.

And she needs a friend.

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper in her ear, and my hands tighten around her body. “I’m so sorry, Sylvie.”

She hugs me back just as tight. Her shoulders tremble against my chest.

“He’s dead,” she manages through her sobs. “He’s gone, Jolie. He was so large in life. So powerful. We were just starting to warm to each other. I never could have imagined him going like this.”

She cries and cries and cries, and I never let go.