“You don’t understand what Guild war is like,” repeats Tomasis.

“I’ve taken an oath to you. I’ve loved you, my Lord.” My words are heavy with tears, because I have loved him, because he is my Father. But whom do I love more? Tomasis or my sisters?

And what of the others, the women huddled in the cellar? The Sisters shut away in filthy beds all over the city?

Something snaps inside me. Perhaps this is what it feels like to have your heart break.

Sometimes we must pay a terrible price to protect the things we love.

I maintain my focus on Thénardier, who’s still holding his gun and watching me with mild interest. I make a choice. I meet his eye.

“If you shoot him now,” I say, my words tearing out of my throat, “you’ll be Lord of the Thieves Guild.”

The Tiger laughs. Tomasis turns, eyes wide with horror. He lets go of me and raises his hand, saying Thénardier’s name. But Thénardier has already raised his gun, and his good hand is steady.

The smell of gunpowder burns my throat. And as Tomasis falls, someone cries out like a wounded animal, screaming and screaming. It sounds like me.

I drop to my knees beside Tomasis. He’s pale, and his fingers frantically clutch his chest. Tears roll down my cheeks, and I hear myself sobbing as I take him in my arms.

“Forgive me, forgive me,” I say over and over, as if it will undo what I have done.

He grasps his neck, fingers closing around the Talisman of Charlemagne. He raises it toward me. I take it and he reaches a hand to my face, his fingertips grazing my cheek as the convulsions start. He shivers violently, blood spilling from his mouth as he opens it to choke out his last words.

“Protect them,” he murmurs.

I tell Tomasis I’m sorry. I tell him I’ll do as he bids. I hold him tight as he spasms and trembles. I keep my eyes fixed on his as he fades, as his limbs slacken, as the glimmer of laughter always in his eye drains away, leaving only an empty shell.

The Tiger rises, forgetting Ettie. He comes to me, his words slicing through my pain.

“Get up.” He grabs my shoulder, dragging me to my feet, tearing me from Tomasis. His voice is sharp in my ear. “I know you loved him. I know you trusted him. I know your heart is breaking. But he betrayed you.” He shakes me. “Don’t cry for him, little Cat,” he says, holding my face between his hands. “He was supposed to protect you, and he didn’t. Don’t waste tears on him. Don’t be so weak.”

“That’s her biggest problem,” says Thénardier behind me. “She gets too attached.”

Although I am drowning in grief, I can’t help but think like a Cat. I scan the room and weigh my chances.

Tomasis is dead.

And now there are only two of them.