He stands and walks to the door, and I’m seized with a deep, dark certainty that I’m losing my brother. He began this slippery descent into loneliness six years ago, when Mom left. All my efforts to preserve our closeness have been about as successful as stopping the flow of the Amazon River with a toothpick.

“Hey, Arch,” I call. “Remember my first day at preschool? I stood in the middle of the blacktop, bawling. And then you came up, took my hand, and led me to the tricycles. We spent the rest of recess chasing each other and laughing our heads off.”

The corners of his mouth quirk. “Yeah. I remember.”

“You were my hero that day. And every day after that.”

He searches me like I’m a faded equation in an ancient textbook. “Your only friends back then were your dolls, squirt. So forgive me if I’m not impressed.”

“I only owned, like, one doll,” I protest.

“Exactly. Even among your pretend friends, you only had one.” He smiles, which never fails to make my heart lighter.

And yet, I can’t shake my uneasiness. His casual teasing reassures me that my brother is still there, underneath the loneliness. But it doesn’t tell me what he’s really thinking. It doesn’t help me close the gap.

Archie adjusts his glasses and grasps the doorknob. “Be careful, Alice. There’s so much evil in this world. I don’t want you tangled up in it.”

One blink later, he is gone.

Chapter 34

Chapter 34

I don’t go back to sleep after my brother leaves. I can’t. My mind spins too wildly; too many emotions push and jostle at my heart. Anxiety over Archie. Dread at my upcoming mission. Confusion over my dream.

I’m more certain with each passing minute that the scene in the club happened in my original timeline. Does that mean I’ll end up with Zeke? Is Bandit nothing more than a blip in my life?

At least I know that I’ll find love and happiness, even if it’s not with Bandit.

That should make him easier to kill.

I wince like I do every time I think about my mission. But that won’t work. I need to desensitize myself to the words. Numb myself to the idea.

Kill Bandit. Kill Bandit. Kill Bandit.

A phrase to block out the soft feelings that threaten to arise. A mantra to turn me into a murdering machine.

I don’t want to kill him. Every organ inside me rebels at the thought. I can’t help but cling to the hope that there’s another way. He can change. I believe in his goodness, and I just can’t accept that death is the answer.

And yet…millions of lives are at stake. The Voice told me in no uncertain terms what I must do to protect the future.