Lynell ignores the question. “It’s over now, Eric. We’re done.” Her legs tense, and she digs her toes into the floor.

“We don’t have to be,” Eric says, as if trying to sound sincere.

Lynell scoffs. “You killed my father. You kidnapped me, abused me, tortured me. You killed my cousin and my husband. You threatened my daughter’s life.” She holds the knives against him tightly, restraining him against the chair with her left elbow, bandaged hand resting on his head.

Eric begins reaching for the knives again. “Put the weapons away, and let’s talk.”

“Oh, sweet Uncle Eric,” she says, imitating Eric’s fake, breathy tone. “I believe you are misinterpreting your place. I have all the power, and you have nothing.”

“I have the Elysian name. The Registration,” Eric says, seething. “I have guards everywhere.”

“You’re a bastard, remember?” Lynell says. Her chin is pressed close to the side of Eric’s head and her eyes are locked on the cracked door she just came through. “And you should really treat your guards better. A silver tongue and some kindness were enough to make them change sides. They’re with me now.”

Eric growls, his body shaking with rage.

“I’ll have you killed for—”

“That’ll be hard to do when I’m done here.”

“You’re not going to kill me.” Eric’s voice fills with confidence.

“But I can,” Lynell says. “The riots have gotten worse and more people question your right to rule every day. Your loyal soldiers have turned against you. Your own son died fighting by the side of your enemy. You have nothing.” She flexes her forearm, muscles twinging with the desire to slide the knife across his throat. “You are nothing.”

Eric starts shaking, out of what Lynell first assumes is fear. But then laughter bubbles from his throat. “You have no idea how wrong you are, darling. It will take so much more than a knife to wipe Eric Elysian from this earth.”

Lynell almost proves him wrong at that moment but remembers Daniel’s words and Eli’s letter. Choose good. Be Better.

“You think you own the world?” Lynell says. “You think a name and some money give you the right to gamble with people’s lives?”

Eric pushes himself back, his thick neck rubbing against the knife. “You’re playing a game and you don’t even know the rules or the players,” Eric says with a taunting lilt to his voice, as if he knows something Lynell doesn’t. Something that will save him and damn her.

“It’s nothing more than a cheap game of power,” Lynell says, though the words don’t sound convincing. “Because that’s all you know. Power, and the thirst for more. I want you to know that’s what ended you. Not me. Your own desperate desire for power.” There’s a tug in her gut that wants to spill Elysian blood. But something bigger keeps her frozen.

She can’t do it.

Eric notices and his laugh starts again. “I knew you couldn’t do it,” he says. Then he throws his body back. The chair crashes into her chest, pushing her to the floor. One of the knives slides away. Air leaves her lungs and she gasps, pain pulsing as she tries to sit up.