His hands find all the sore spots where the pins were just digging in. He presses his fingers, not too hard but with real pressure, and I sigh. After a few moments he stills, but leaves his fingertips resting against my skull, warm and heavy.

From across the small, dark space, Finn scoffs. Or it might be a cough. I don’t care one way or the other.

I don’t think I’ll get much sleep, but I must drift off at some point because I wake to the sound of hushed voices.

The room is pitch dark, cold and hard. My hip is sore where it is pressed against the floor. I’ll be bruised in the morning.

Maxine is asleep on Anais’s shoulder. They whispered to each other long into the night, so quiet I couldn’t follow their conversation.

Lena has fallen asleep on my stomach. There’s something heavy in the air, and even in this windowless room. I am certain it is the dead of night.

“You won’t even look at me.” The deep Irish brogue is Finn’s.

“You killed my best friend,” Oliver whispers back. “I wish you were six feet deep. But unfortunately, you’re breathing, so I wish you were anywhere on earth other than this room with—” Oliver pauses like he’s thinking.

“With her, you mean?” Finn asks.

“With all of us. I’m halfway waiting for you to finish the job and kill the rest of us. You’d probably like that.”

Finn’s answer comes in one quick breath. “I wouldn’t.”

“Wouldn’t like it or wouldn’t do it?”

“Both. I wouldn’t hurt you.”

“I don’t believe you,” Oliver says.

“I wouldn’t hurt you because it would hurt her. Do you believe that?” Finn says.

Oliver thinks for a moment. “I’m not sure how to believe anything you say.”

I want to cry out, to open my mouth and say something. But I don’t have the words. So I just listen and ache.

For a few minutes there is only the sound of our breathing, and I think the conversation must be over, but Finn speaks again.

“I am sorry. I told her but I never told you. I am sorry about William.”

Oliver sniffs. I can’t see his face but I can picture it, his pretty mouth turned down in a frown. “You don’t deserve to say his name.”

“I know.” Finn sighs. “I just wanted you to know.”

There’s a soft thunk as Oliver leans his head back against the wall. “You’ve got a lot of nerve coming back here, I’ll give you that.”

“I’m trying to help. She asked me to help.” Finn’s whisper is slow and steady. There’s no malice in his words.

“I know she did. I just wish she didn’t need you.”

“But she does, so I’m here.”