“I didn’t mean that as—” he began, but her gun slammed into his nose, knocking him to the side, and when he raised his head, he found her gun cocked, pressed right to the tender flesh under his chin, a challenging smile on her lips.

“What, you didn’t see that coming? You’re losing your edge.”

He laughed, his chest swelling with a sense of rightness. “I should’ve known that was a ploy.” He reached forward to cup her cheek with his rough palm, but stopped short when he realized he’d been about to touch her face right there where it was scarred in real life. He saw the uncertainty flicker over her face, her finger wavering on the trigger.

“I missed you,” Tom said, honest. “Medusa, I mean it. Your face and stuff—it doesn’t matter to me. Not really. I was surprised. And desperate. I had to win and . . .” Then, inspiration struck. “You know what? This doesn’t matter, Medusa. It doesn’t. We’re on opposite sides of the world. Get it? The way we look is a nonissue for us. We’re never going to see each other in person. We can look however we want!”

But the words didn’t have the effect he’d anticipated. The barrel of her gun dug into his chin, forcing his head back, until she rose up before him like some phoenix.

“That’s great. Then if you’re so unlucky you see me in person, I can wear a bag over my head.”

That wasn’t what he’d meant to say, but Medusa didn’t give him another chance. Her pistol exploded, and he careened back into his body in the training room, and away from her.

IN THAT MANNER, Tom missed the end of the simulation.

Vik and Lyla had relentlessly hunted Wyatt and the other survivors in her group, pursuing them down to the Rio Grande. Apparently, Vik and Lyla took down most of Elliot’s group—all but Wyatt. During the slaughter, Vik won Lyla over, and they discovered their feelings for each other. Then they had a terrible fight and broke up again, and shortly after that, Wyatt’s firebomb took out Lyla.

Having loved and lost, Vik was determined to salvage something from the simulation. After he stumbled into a pit Wyatt had concealed, rigged up with spears jutting from the ground, Vik mustered his strength. Despite being grievously impaled, now girlfriendless, and on the verge of death, he readied his gun. Wyatt peered down to check whether he was dead, and Vik fired off a single bullet—right into her head.

Avenging his former girlfriend left Vik feeling rather triumphant. Tom had a great time mocking him as they walked back from the pool where they’d ceremonially dunked Wyatt to celebrate her promotion. “You only dated for twelve minutes. That’s not a real girlfriend, Vik.”