She knew what she had to do.

She wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand and pushed herself to her feet, curling her fingers around Roman’s dagger. She didn’t think he’d meant to leave the dagger for her, but she decided to take it all the same. She had an idea of how she might use it to save the world, like they’d planned.

It was time.

56

Ash

NOVEMBER 11, 2077, NEW SEATTLE

Ash stood in the small boat, easing his weight from leg to leg to keep his balance. Black water lapped at the sides, sending the boat rocking, but Ash moved, easily, with the motion. He’d grown used to the water over the years.

Trees seemed to glow in the darkness around him. Ghost trees. Dead trees. Water pressed against their hollow, white trunks, moving with the wind.

Ash counted ripples to pass the time while he waited. Seven. Twelve. Twenty-three. He lost track and was about to start again when her light appeared in the distant black. It was small, like the single headlight of a motorcycle, followed by the rumbling sound of an engine. He stood straighter. Part of him hadn’t expected her to come. But of course she would. She always did.

Leave now, he told himself. There was still time. He felt sure that she wouldn’t come after him if he left before she got here. He knew how this night would end if he stayed. He’d seen this exact moment a dozen times. A hundred, if he counted dreams. But he stayed still, his hand clenching and unclenching at his side.

He wanted to see her, even knowing what it meant. He had to see her one last time.

The boat drew closer. She was hidden beneath that hood, but her hair had blown loose. Long, white strands dancing in the darkness.

She pulled up next to him and cut the engine.

“I didn’t think you’d come.” Her voice was lower than he’d expected, practically a purr. She reached up, pushed those white strands of hair back under her hood with a flick of her hand.

Ash swallowed. He didn’t see the knife, but he knew she had it. “It doesn’t have to end like this.”

Her hand disappeared inside her coat. “Of course it does.”

57

Dorothy

NOVEMBER 11, 2077, NEW SEATTLE

Dorothy was about to open the door when it flew open on its own, slamming into the wall with a crack.

Zora stood before her, gun in hand.

“You bitch.” She shoved Dorothy against the wall and pressed the barrel of her gun to her forehead.

“What—” Dorothy tried to squirm away, but Zora had an arm angled across her collarbone, and she leaned into it, increasing the pressure on Dorothy’s chest.

Dimly, Dorothy registered the bodies of three men lying in the hallway behind her, unconscious.

The guards, she realized, with growing horror. Zora had taken them all out.

“What did you do to him?” Zora said, and Dorothy heard the hammer of her gun click into place. “Tell me or I swear to God I’ll shoot off the rest of your face!”