I felt no fear, just an utter calm. Things became really simple. If I tried to kill my real father, everyone else, especially the man I loved, would pay the price. I could feel Curran’s gaze on me. There were people waiting for me to protect them from Roland in Atlanta. I couldn’t throw my life away. It wasn’t completely my own anymore.

I stopped and stood still. It took all of my will.

My father was looking at me and his eyes told me he knew what I was thinking.

“Do it!” the ghost of Voron roared. “This is what you worked for. This is why I trained you!”

Something fluttered inside me and I realized it was hope. I wanted to live. I wanted Curran to survive this. I thought of him. I thought of Julie. Of Derek and Ascanio. Of Andrea and Raphael. Of Jim. I wanted to bring Robert back to Thomas. I wanted Christopher to smile again and tell me he was trying to remember how to fly.

Death is forever. Death is nothing. But to save a life, that’s everything. My mother understood this and now I finally did, too.

Voron had a purpose for me, but it was his purpose, not mine. I loved him, I still mourned his death on his birthday, and I was grateful because he made me what I was. But I was done living for someone else’s purpose. I had to live for mine. I had people to protect. Curran had sacrificed everything to save me from Mishmar. Now I would sacrifice my vengeance to save him from the Swan Palace.

I walked up the dais and put my hand on Robert’s shoulder. “I claim them.”

My father nodded slowly. “Take them.”

The two men rose, their eyes still glassy. I turned and walked back along the gore-splattered walkway. They followed me, two androids on autopilot. At the doorway Curran looked at my father one last time.

“I’ll see you both in Atlanta,” my father said.

Curran smiled, his eyes like two burning moons. “If you want a war, we’ll give you one.”

I passed him and kept walking, out of the room, out of the garden, into the winter, Christopher and Robert following me and Curran guarding our backs. Nobody stopped us.

• • •

I MARCHED ALONG the cobbled road, Robert and Christopher following me. They still wore the warm clothes they had brought to break me out of Mishmar, but I had left my jacket in Landon’s car. The cold was scraping the flesh off my bones.

I had met my father. I had met him and survived.

I’d failed Voron. I should’ve killed Roland, but I had walked away and I’d done it deliberately. I’d betrayed Voron’s memory. And I didn’t care. I lived. We all lived.

I felt free.

“We survived,” I whispered. The words tasted strange. “We survived.”