“And what will you do when we’re done?”

Finn pauses. “I’m not sure. I’m not sure about anything anymore.”

Oliver sighs. He’s tired but not defeated.

“What would you do if she left with me?” Finn asks in a whisper so quiet I wonder if he means for Oliver to answer at all.

“She won’t.”

“But what if she did? Would you try to kill me?”

Oliver laughs softly. “We’re not all you, Finn. Regardless, you know as well as I do, she’s not something to possess.”

“Don’t make me out to be the villain here,” Finn says.

“You are, quite literally, the villain here.”

“But I’m helping, aren’t I?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out. I don’t know why.”

“Because she asked me to. Because I care. Because I’m trying to be…,” Finn trails off.

“To be?” Oliver prompts.

Finn is quiet for so long I don’t think he means to answer him. But then he says, “Better.” It comes from the very back of his throat, like it pains him.

“Jesus.” Maxine’s sharp whisper pierces the darkness. “If you don’t shut up, I’ll kill the both of you. Maybe I should seduce Frances away from the both of you just to prove a point. She’s fine, I love her, but good Lord…”

I nearly laugh but then I remember I’m supposed to be asleep.

I wake again what must be a few hours later to the sound of shattering glass. I’m gasping, blood thrumming with nerves, up and on my feet before I realize what’s happening.

Maxine is standing in front of the now-shattered glass case, a ball-peen hammer slung casually in her hand.

“Good morning,” she says to me cheerily. “We forgot we could break things without magic.”

Anais is awake, standing next to Maxine and grinning widely. The pearls in her hair are askew and her dress is wrinkled. “Hammers, who knew, such a useful tool.”

I laugh and laugh until the rest of them are all laughing too, all of us delirious from lack of sleep. Leave it to magicians to get so hung up on using magic for everything, they forget about the simplest solution. We were guilty of it, and it appears the Sons were as well.

Lena grabs Finn’s discarded suit jacket from the floor and wraps it around her hand and up her forearm before reaching into the glass case to withdraw the key.

“What does it feel like?” I ask.

She weighs it in her hand. “Like a key.” She tucks it inside the beaded emerald-green bag that matches her dress and nods toward the door. “We haven’t heard anyone in hours. If the glass breaking sent anyone looking, we should get out now, while we still can.”