“They can’t protect you forever,” I snarl as my friends arrive to flank me. “He’s the one we want,” I tell his copies. “So move out of the way.”

My friends pounce. Jago thrusts a knife at one of the Gravelles. Ansel tackles a second clone. Levi approaches from behind, cutting another Gravelle off at the knees. But our Gravelle remains in the center, clumsily dodging the action with the help of his cane, protected by his copies.

I feel so much anger at this man. For killing my father and Theodora. For causing all this suffering.

I don’t care about anything right now except hurting him as much as he’s hurt all of us.

So I charge. Straight toward the circle of Gravelles who’ve formed a human shield around their leader. My friends are chipping away at that shield as they take each Duplicate down, one by one.

I find an opening. Crouching low, I push through the human barrier. Past the kicking and thrusting bodies to the real Gravelle—I’m certain it’s him, the way they’re protecting him at all costs—and knock the cane out of his hand. Then I tackle him, sending him to the ground.

Maude’s at my side, handing me a knife. Sweating, tears springing from my eyes, I point the blade directly at his throat.

“You’re afraid, aren’t you,” I whisper in Gravelle’s ear. A Gravelle Duplicate tries to grab me, but Maude kicks him off. “It’s not so fun being on this side of things,” I add. “Is it?”

“Emma,” says a voice. I turn to see the other Emma—the original one—calling out to me.

I give Gravelle’s scarred face one last look and hand the knife to Levi, who has taken down two of the Gravelles for good, knocking them out, and is standing next to me.

“Throw him in the cage to rot,” I instruct him.

It’s what seems fitting. I won’t kill him; I can’t. But he deserves to suffer.

Just then, a shot rings out. I don’t see the bullet hit him, but I see what happens afterward. Blood is spreading out of Gravelle’s chest like a red-wine stain on the pristine floor.

The bullet struck him right at the center, the heart of him—if he ever had one. But who did this?

I scan the library, looking past the rows of vintage first editions, to see Jago holding a gun.

“That was for Theodora,” he says quietly.

I feel myself deflating, in relief, in utter fatigue.

Gravelle is dead.

You are a Duplicate.

I walk past Gravelle’s bleeding form—abandoned now by his copies—to find Maude at the doorway, stepping on a guard’s chest and firing a gun at him. She hits his foot, aiming to impair but not kill him.