“This is insane.” Winter let the door close and stepped away from it, moving slowly. “What do you think holding a pistol on Janus is going to accomplish?”

“What’s insane is what he’s done to you. He’s been using you, all this time, and you thank him for it. He got you involved in all this, he put a demon in your head, and in return you’ll follow him anywhere.” Her lip twisted in a snarl. “I don’t know how he does it, but it ends now, if I have to end it myself.”

“Put it down, Jane.”

“What has he done for you?” Jane said. “What has he done for any of us but asked us to sacrifice, over and over—”

“Janus has saved my life, more than once,” Winter said. “We all would have died in the desert without him—”

“You wouldn’t have been in the desert without him! None of this would have happened without him!” There were tears in Jane’s eyes. “We were finally making it work. Those years after Mrs. Wilmore’s were bad, but we were finally making it work, and then this fuck comes along and turns everything over. And now my girls are marching into cannon-fire and getting their fucking arms and legs hacked off with dull knives, and they all still thank him for it.”

“That was my fault,” Winter said. She took another step forward, raising her hands. “I was the one who came to the Leatherbacks.”

“Because he sent you there! You think he gave a fuck about you, or me, or any of the others? He needed us, so he used you to get what he wanted.”

“You were the one who got them to volunteer,” Winter snapped. It wasn’t the right thing to say, it wasn’t helpful, but she couldn’t stop herself.

“Because he had his hooks in me, too,” Jane said. “It took me a long time to see my way clear. But I’m out now, and you will be, too.” Her voice dropped, nearly to a whisper. “Come with me, Winter. Away from this, away from the army, away from everything. Just you and me, like it was always supposed to be. Please. Please.”

It felt as if something in Winter’s chest was tearing itself apart. “I can’t,” she whispered. “You know I can’t.”

“I love you, Winter. More than anything. Please.”

“I . . .” Winter’s throat was too thick to speak.

Jane, pistol still trained on Janus, was looking at Winter, and Winter saw her eyes harden. She looked the way she’d looked the night they captured Bloody Cecil, when Winter had stopped her from executing her prisoner by a hair’s breadth. Mad Jane.

“Fuck,” she said under her breath. “All right. New plan. I’ll kill this fucker and we’ll get you out of here until whatever he did to you wears off.”

“Jane, no.”