I descend down the stairs and touch my country’s soil for the first time since I left. It’s the first time I’ve ever set foot in my homeland without my father.

People holding cameras rush at me. I already knew this would happen. The woman locking lips with the king two nights ago is now covered in dried blood; this is as sensational as it gets.

My eyes find the representatives. They’re all here, along with Will. They’ve decided to temporarily lift their safety precautions and leave the bunker all to welcome my father and me back.

I breathe heavily through my nose and walk to them, ignoring the WUN soldiers holding the crowd at bay and the ancient-looking cameras that follow my every movement.

I’m not a part of this moment; I’m seeing this all through a long, dark tunnel. The representatives’ stoic expressions, the horrified screams of the crowd, which are now mixing with the increasing cheers by those who thirst for enemy blood.

Will looks shell-shocked. I can’t get over how strange the sight is when he’s usually so unruffled.

The general pushes his way to me. “What happened?” His brows are furrowed, and his nostrils flare. He can smell the death on me.

I lean in to him. “I’m only going to retell the story once,” I say. “If you want this to go down in WUN history, you’re going to have to give me a microphone and make a show of it.”

He looks me over, his face grim, and he nods to the side. “We already have a makeshift stage ready.” I glance to where he indicates. Sure enough, there’s a small podium set up, probably meant for my father. But now it’s there for me.

“Are you sure you want to record this?” the general asks. “It could be used against you once the war is over.”

“I will be killed for my crimes, regardless,” I say. This is the sick truth I’ve known since I could think properly on the flight over. There’s no other alternative for what I’ve done.

The general stares at me for a long moment; I can see the morbid curiosity behind his eyes. “This footage is not going to appear to the public until we’ve okay-ed it—if we okay it,” the general says.

“I understand.” I approach the stage with the general at my side. Will appears on my other side, hovering but not touching me. I can see his concern etched into his crinkled brow. Underneath it I see fear, but I can’t tell if it’s fear for me or fear of me.

When the crowd sees what I’m doing, they creep closer to the stage.