“No.” Her tears had clawed angry streaks down her face. “I saved you.”

What use was he? She could have saved Mama, with her laughter like wind chimes and her quick fingers on the piano and the rare holiday prayers that turned to melodies all on their own. Papa, whose butcher’s hands never once turned harsh, never once turned to violence like Daniel’s had now done; his eyes so soft and heart so full, he tried to rescue every sad stray animal that came across their path. And Ari—Ari, who was so in love with Tamar Adler on the next block, who talked of weddings and of beautiful little children he’d raise to someday be as strong and brave as his parents were.

She could have saved any of them. But she’d chosen him, with his short temper and brooding music and now his violent appetite—his helpless, flailing rage. She’d chosen the boy who used his hands so cruelly now instead of for the music he once loved.

Absurdly, a laugh bubbled up in his chest. Laughing at himself, his pitiful life, his traitorous sister. And now that he’d started, he couldn’t stop laughing, at the cruelty of the whole world and all its gifts. She’d rescued him, but couldn’t save the rest. So what use was his sister who saw things? Every outcome for them ended in pain.

“Daniel, please—”

He pulled away from her, and all at once, his laughter was gone. “You shouldn’t have saved me.”

Daniel stood, the world tilting around him. The jar of broth tipped over and spilled across the wood planks. He had to get out of here. Out of this church, this town full of hateful Germans, these woods that had swallowed him up with their shadows and whispers that promised if he could just kill the next Nazi, his debt would be paid. As if there could ever be enough. No, he had to get out of here, this life, this too-tight skin he’d been wearing. Rage had eaten up his insides like one of Liam’s shadow beasts, and now there was nothing of him left.

He’d promised himself he would die avenging their family. But now—knowing she’d left them to die while he lived—

It changed nothing. Soon enough, he could join them. The sooner, the better.

“Please, Daniel.” Rebeka tried to block his path toward the rickety stairwell. “Please, just listen to me—”

He ducked under her arm and continued down the stairs. “You’re free now.” Froth built up inside him, but he couldn’t direct his rage at her. No, he had to conserve it. “Go live the life you deserve.”

“Daniel, wait—”

The sound of several car engines below them drowned her out. They both froze, listening as the vehicles stopped at the front of the Kino. Car doors slammed. Boots ground against stone.