Emi wears a navy suit with a navy crew-cut blouse beneath it. Once again, her makeup has been toned down for national news. Emi tells the Dateline anchor how I began to unravel its inner workings. As she speaks, she portrays me as a hero, giving me more credit than I deserve.

I couldn’t have figured it all out without Adam. And Ryan.

My insides twist. Ryan was willing to come forward. To risk his life. I think of the severe look on his face when he saw his picture, demanded Cullen and I escape, then turned to face his attackers. Anyone else would have run.

I would have run. Or collapsed.

The Dateline anchor cuts in. “Lia Finch confronted Richard Stewart, Mayor Henking’s chief advisor, tonight at the mayor’s home after suspecting his role in organizing the Death Mob.”

Emi nods.

Their conversation seems planned even though they only had twenty minutes to set up for this interview.

“Lia feared for her life. I helped her install software that turned her phone into a listening device. We did this for her protection. After recording tonight’s fatal attack and sharing it with the world, she cleverly used it to record Stewart’s confession.”

It’s not true. My plan failed. Hers didn’t. But I’m too empty to care.

The screen turns blue and begins transcribing the conversation I had with Richard just over an hour ago as it plays in the background. It feels like a lifetime ago.

I barely recognize my voice. “You run the attacks.”

“I do a lot more than that.”

“You murder people.”

“I keep people in line . . .” Richard sounds condescending. Like he knows he’s about to kill me.

“It’s all about control for you . . .” My voice is assertive, strong. But I don’t remember saying any of it.

“It’s not about what I want—it’s about what this city needs . . . You make it all sound so simple, but I assure you, it’s a lot more complicated than that.”

All I remember is how certain I was that I would die.

Emi begins breaking it all down, but I miss it. The nebulizer’s high-pitched whistle, indicating I’ve emptied all the medicine from the tiny cylinder base, is all I hear. It’s been making this noise for a while. I take the mask off and flip the switch on the neb. As I do, I glance at my mom. Her face is stoic. She’s always been better at holding it in than I am.

By the time I turn back to the screen, they’re showing FBI agents leading Richard out of the mayor’s house in handcuffs. Behind them, Detective Irving pushes reporters away as agents put Richard in the back of a dark SUV.

“He called me,” my mom says, like I should know what she’s talking about. “Ted Irving.”