“It’s the prototype for the Creator serum,” Ward tells me. “I saw it when I opened the refrigerator, just the one vial. I don’t know why Vanik didn’t use it on himself—maybe he realized what that kind of power could do in the wrong hands and decided he didn’t want it after all, or maybe Jeremiah commanded him not to touch it. But whatever the reason … It’s yours, if you want it.”

With numb fingers, I take ahold of the vial, turning it in my hand. I don’t say anything—I can’t say anything—as I stare at the clear fluid.

“I’m … I’m sorry, Chip,” Ward says, his voice hoarse. “So sorry.”

I turn my head slowly until our eyes meet.

I don’t know what he’s apologizing for. I don’t know if it’s for injecting me with the serum and everything else he did while under Jeremiah’s control, or for everything he did prior to that. Maybe it’s for all of it. Either way, there’s no doubt in my mind how much he means those words.

“You know what I think?” I say, holding his gaze.

His expression shutters, like he’s expecting a blow.

I reach out with my free hand to touch his. I can feel his surprise, his shock, his uncertainty as his fingers hesitantly entwine with mine. His grip is strong but also gentle—so achingly gentle, as if even now he’s worried about hurting me.

Swallowing thickly, I say, “I think I meant what I said to Jeremiah about Creators having too much power. And I think I wasn’t just talking about him.”

I make sure he’s watching closely as I move my other hand out over the railing, as I open my fingers …

… and drop the vial into the ocean. “I think I don’t need to be a Speaker in order to be heard,” I say quietly, even as I take in his stunned expression. I bite my lip and add, “But I also think I have a new ability that I know nothing about. And I think—I think I need someone to help me figure it out, to teach me how to control it. Someone I … Someone I trust. Someone who I know will protect me, and protect those around me.”

In a whisper, I ask, “What do you say, Ward?”

His voice is little more than a throaty rasp as he says, “You want me to keep training you? Even after—”

I squeeze his hand and interrupt, “I think we’ve earned a fresh start, considering everything.”

“A fresh start,” he repeats, light beginning to enter his green eyes again, chasing away the shadows. As if he can’t believe what’s happening, a tentative smile starts to tug at his lips, a hint of his dimple showing as he warns, “I’ve heard I can be a real taskmaster.”