“Shana,” Tim muttered, startling me. He’d broken character, undermined me by using my first name. I ignored him and blinked hard. The walls of the hallway were closing in.

“How dare you,” Bebe shouted as Jade’s eyes filled with tears. “I’ll have you fired for this!”

Something happened to her then. As I watched, Bebe Sinclair changed. Her features became a collection of bloated, oversized parts. I knew it was an illusion, a quadrant of my brain adjusting her face to match the person I now knew her to be, but the effect was alarming. Breathe, I told myself. Let these images go and connect with the breath. But my mind was a zoo with the gates flung open, my thoughts stampeding like underfed beasts. There were skeletons in every closet here, hidden by people who shuffled grudges like playing cards, their diamonds with edges like blades. In the game this family played, the only hearts dealt out were bloodied and beaten until there wasn’t a beat left. In that moment, my perspective shifted. These people all looked like monsters to me.

I listened to Carson’s voice inside my head.

In your case, Shay, I believe you’re under extreme psychological stress. What happened with Bram, it messed with your mind. To put it simply, you’re no longer able to separate fact from fiction. We call this cognitive dissonance. Your beliefs are in conflict, fighting against each other, and that impacts your ability to make value judgments. You can’t trust yourself to know right from wrong. You’ll feel fear when you’re safe, see a threat where there’s none. And you’ll experience the aftereffects of this debilitating condition for a long, long time to come.

“Was it you?” I scrutinized Bebe’s hideous face. “Did you hold a pillow over his mouth when you stabbed him, or did you jump at the chance to watch him die?”

She gasped. Near the stairs, Abella wiped her mouth on her sleeve and swayed in place. My chest constricted under my shirt. No, not my shirt—Camilla’s. A million ants zigzagged over my arms, and when I clawed at the fabric I swear I felt their globular bodies pop and ooze under my nails. Hours and hours I’d been on the island. The incubation period was almost up. These people were sick, I was at risk of contamination, and nothing, not even my clothing, felt safe. Under the gauze my hand throbbed. They did this to me, I thought. They caused all of this.

“This is outrageous!” Flynn strained against Tim to reach me. His voice was deafening.

“Or was it you?” I said, staring up at him. I had to know. I needed to hear I wasn’t insane, that Jasper was dead and they’d killed him. “How does it feel to know you’ll never have to compete with your perfect little brother again? I’ll find Jasper like Camilla asked me to, don’t you worry. He’s in the river, Mr. Sinclair. Right where you put him.”

Several things happened at once. Flynn shoved Tim aside and lunged at me. One of the women screamed. Before I could stop myself I drew my weapon, found my target, and squeezed the trigger.