No, they wouldn’t. So that left me with exactly three options. Return to Talon having failed the mission. Accept their punishment, whatever it was, knowing they would never trust me again, knowing they would consider me tainted and incompetent and somehow corrupted. Talon had little use for dragons who failed; my future with the organization was assured only if I continued to be valuable. It was career suicide, but I could kill the bomb, return to Talon and face the consequences of my decision, whatever they might be.

Or, I could finish what I came here to do: leave the bomb and get out, knowing more people would die. Knowing that kid would burn to death like everyone around her, because she had let me go. And I might never sleep again without seeing her face, staring up at me from my dreams.

Then, of course, there was the final option.

My chest felt tight, my stomach twisting into painful knots. Everything, it seemed, had come down to this moment. Run, or stay? Continue with the organization, or take my chances on my own? Hunted. Hated. A traitor to my own kind.

A rogue.

My hands shook, and fear spread through me as I realized the truth. I couldn’t do this anymore. I couldn’t go back to the organization knowing some little kid had died…no, that I’d killed her, and Talon wouldn’t think twice about it. Why should they? She was only human, and human lives meant nothing to dragons. If a few mortals died so that our race was preserved, then the sacrifice was worth it.

But they never had to see the faces of those they destroyed; the sacrifices they spoke of, the consequences of our war, never touched their desks. They had me. I was doing their dirty work for them.

No. No more. That ended right now.

Numbly, I went back into the server room and walked to the place the bomb sat, tiny and ominous, red numbers ticking down. Looking down at it, everything inside me went cold.

2:33

2:32

2:31

Two minutes? What the hell? Even after the conversation with Madison, there was no way that much time had elapsed. Though the reason for it was immediately clear: the timer was moving twice as fast as a normal clock, eating away the seconds at a frightening speed. Even as I stared, they seemed to go faster, until the seconds were nothing but a red blur against the screen. My head spun with the implications. I’d never make it out in time. If I hadn’t come back, I would’ve died with the humans when the building went down.