“Let’s do it.” He reaches for the blade, and I do too. I don’t know what it says about me that I’m with him in this. We can’t go back. There is no back. When left with no other choice, wouldn’t anyone do whatever was necessary to keep going?

Lucy answers for me. “I’m not doing this.” She backs down the hall past Willow, who doesn’t try to stop her.

Anger flashes across Ethan’s face, and he moves forward like he’ll drag her back by her hair if he has to, and I don’t know whether to grab his arm and stop him or help him do it, but I don’t have to make the choice.

Another girl rounds the corner and bumps into Lucy. Grabbing Lucy’s arm and righting her before she can tumble, the girl takes us all in quickly with hazel eyes. She wears a stunning purple gown that bleeds to black at the bottom, and I can’t tell if it’s blood or if the dress came like that. I could take a guess. Her loose, wavy red hair is darkened at the tips with what looks like blood.

“I’m Nadine,” she says.

“Don’t care,” Ethan says, even though I know he knows who she is. He jerks a thumb toward the blade. “Will you help us slice through this girl or not?”

Nadine takes in the scene. Her mouth tightens, but she nods.

“You all are bonkers,” Lucy says. She backs into the velvet damask wallpaper—and suddenly the wallpaper starts curling around her and dragging her inside a wall now soft as pudding.

“Lucy!” Willow lunges, but it’s too late. Just Lucy sinks through the wall; Willow slams into it, bouncing backward.

Screams echo—faint enough for us to convince ourselves we didn’t hear them.

“You only needed four,” the blue-haired girl says.

“Let’s get this over with.” I put my hands on the blade, and the others follow until we all wait for Willow. She looks like she’ll be sick. She takes a step back.

I grab her hands and yank her forward, placing them on the blade and then following with mine.

The blue-haired girl laughs as the blade slices air and then her torso as if it were only air too.

The gate swings open, and the boxes the blue-haired girl is in move apart on their own, clearing a path. The girl, in two dripping, bloody pieces, is still laughing as we walk through. The gate clanks shut behind us, and by the time we turn, she is whole and standing in front of the now solid bars. She’s naked, but none of us bat an eye. Her blue hair drapes over her chest.

My heart pounds with relief.

“I knew it was a trick,” I say.

She meets my eyes and winks. “If you say so, Ava.”