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I’ve distracted Dante.
It’s only a split second, but that’s all Cormac needs. I charge forward to stop him, but it’s too late. Cormac’s hand sinks into Dante’s chest and I fall to the ground facing the golden strand clutched firmly in Cormac’s hand.
“Please.” It’s the only thing I can say in this moment.
“Because you asked nicely,” Cormac says, “I’ll give you a second to close your eyes.”
“You don’t have to do this,” I remind him. “You have a choice.”
“Yes, I do.” And with a wrench, he rends the time strand clean from Dante’s body.
My eyes meet Dante’s and he smiles. “Close your eyes, baby. I’m glad I met you.”
I squeeze them shut and try to drown out the horrible scraping noise of unwinding time, the unnatural dissonance of stolen years leaving my father’s body too soon. We never had enough time.
“Open your eyes,” Cormac orders me. I shake my head, my eyelids pressed down to hold back tears I don’t want Cormac to see.
“I’ve seen you cry before,” he reminds me.
I open them and let the angry tears roll out. They are tears of accusation and hatred, but I’m not entirely sure they’re meant for Cormac.
I can’t escape knowing that this is my fault, but that’s not a new feeling and I’ve learned one thing.
It doesn’t matter.
Mistakes ebb and flow like the ocean and if you linger in them, the tide will wash you out to drown.
TWENTY-SIX
CORMAC IS COVERED IN DUST AND HE brushes it off as though it’s nothing, dropping the time strand on the floor at his feet. I reach forward and pick it up, cradling it in my palm.
“Keep it,” he says.
I drop the strand and swipe at Cormac, but he sidesteps me and I crash to the ground.
“I want you to think about what you’re doing,” he says.
“I know exactly what I’m doing,” I say, scrambling to my feet and preparing to launch myself at him again.
“You need me,” Cormac says, “and you couldn’t defeat me if you tried. Are you willing to let innocent people die because you were impatient?”
I push my arms down to my sides and stare at him. My tears haven’t abated, and I don’t care.
“Are you going to give me the pass code?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
“Absolutely not.”
“You know,” I say in a low voice.
“Know what?” Cormac asks. I lean across his desk and press my hands hard against the smooth wood, waiting for my moment to strike as he pours a drink.
“That both worlds are in danger. What I don’t know is how you think Arras will survive without Earth. Albert calculates—”
“Have you ever considered that those are the ravings of a decrepit man?”
“Look who’s calling someone else decrepit,” I mutter.
Cormac ignores me, but he sets down his glass with unusual force. “What would you do? Repopulate Earth? That is madness. Only one can survive—Earth or Arras. Which would you choose, Adelice? A world where everyone has what they need or a dying planet full of criminals and deviants?”
