By helping me, she cut herself off from this life forever. I owe her big time. I give her hand a pat. “Glad you’re coming.”

“Let’s save the happy reunion for later,” Clay says, drawing his father’s revolvers. He hands me one of his father’s guns. “You can shoot?”

I nod, looking over the revolver.

“Good,” he says. He holds up a box of shells he’s dug out of his father’s pants pockets and starts loading his two guns.

The four of us exchange our last looks. Ethan puts his hand on my arm. “Let’s get the hell out of dodge,” he says. It’s a perfect imitation of my stepfather. I almost smile. We walk to the door and it slides open.

I’m the first to step into the hallway. I skid to a stop. The hospital bed crashes into my back. Ten yards down the hall, Dr. Vandewater stands with her arms folded across her chest. Her long red fingernails look like bloody talons. Behind her, guards line the corridor, guns slung across their arms, bullet-proof vests strapped on their chests. My mouth drops open. Betsy lets out a little squeal.

“No more deals,” the doctor says, her face a cold emotionless mask. “Come with me, Clay, or die with them. You have one minute to decide.”

I stare for a moment, unable to move. This? This is what we’ve come down to?

Clay turns and pushes us back into the room. We fall in. Ethan’s hand gropes for mine. Silent tears trace Betsy’s face. My eyes flick from the open doorway to Clay’s face. He stares back in shock.

“What’d we do?” I ask.

Clay looks to the door, then back at me. He shakes his head slowly. “I don’t … I don’t know.”

A sob breaks from Betsy. Ethan’s whole body begins to tremble. I pull him to me. I squeeze him hard, trying to hold back my own tears.

“This is all my fault,” I say, pressing my face into Ethan’s hair. “We can’t go against that many guards. We’re done.” My eyes flick up to Clay’s stunned face. “I should’ve listened when you said not to be reckless. I had to run here with no thought, no plan.” I wrap my arms around Ethan. My hand finds my mother’s arm on the bed. “It’s all my fault.”

Clay grabs me by the shoulders. I press my face into his chest, my angry tears seeping into the fabric of his shirt. Is this my last moment with him? I try to memorize the smell of his neck, the flex of his arms, the touch of his hand on my cheek. This can’t be the end. He lifts my face to his. His sky blue eyes stare deep into my own.