“Lacey’s broken. That is very, very clear to me now. But I have a little time to fix her before I go, Doc. And then she’s gonna be in charge of the little empire I’ve carved out for myself. Then she will be as black-hearted and strong as her daddy. Ain’t that right, Lacey girl?” He stops, looks up at Lace, like he expects her to answer. She rises to her feet, a void expression on her face, and drops down beside her brother.

“Give it to me,” she whispers. She holds out her hand. Charlie considers her open palm for a moment, and then shrugs.

“Fine. I don’t want him dead just yet anyway.” He slaps the Taser into Lacey’s hand, and she immediately turns it off. The tick-tick-ticking stops, and so do Zeth’s jumping muscles. He exhales softly, like he’s been holding his breath that whole time.

“What should I do with her?” O’Shannessey asks, tightening his grip around my neck and chest. Dark spots begin to dance in my vision. I try to prize my fingers underneath his forearm, but the task is impossible. From the corner of my eye, I can see Zeth’s arm moving, though the motion is weak. His eyes are open. That’s one small blessing. If his eyes are open, then he hasn’t lost consciousness…which I may or may not be about to do.

“Go find out what’s taking Sammy so long. Take her with you.” Charlie smiles, and I know what he’s going to say next. Panic grasps hold of my heart and squeezes tight. “And…kill her.”

I open my mouth to scream as I gather up the last of my energy, trying to wrestle free, but it’s not my voice that comes out. Another scream, wild, high-pitched and desperate, rips through the air. Lacey. Everything slows. I see the events of the next four seconds as snapshots, still frames, frozen flashes of memory that will be forever burned into my mind.

Zeth trying to sit up, hand outstretched…

Lacey’s arm swinging around…

Lacey’s mouth pulled down, eyes spilling over with tears…

Charlie turning. Charlie surprised…

The fork in Lacey’s hand driving deep into Charlie’s throat…

The old man falling back, landing on his back…

Then, blood. So much blood.

Silence.

Zeth’s hoarse voice. “Lace. Lacey, come here.”

Charlie collapsing to the ground, hands shakily trying to stem the flow of blood flooding forth around the piece of metal sticking out of his neck.

The room tilting sideways.

Me hitting the ground.

O’Shannessey moving, letting me go.

O’Shannessey hollering, reaching for his boss.

And then not reaching for his boss.

Reaching for his gun.

And then the sound.

And then the shock.

And then more blood.

And then Lacey…

…falling to the ground.

“NO! Oh, God, no! Please, no. Please. No, no, no.” I feel like I’m moving under water. I feel like there are hands dragging me down into a deep abyss and if I let myself sink I will never resurface again. Never. I scramble to Lacey’s body, my arms and legs not working properly. There’s more shouting. Charlie Holsan’s hand lifts, grasping hold of thin air as he tries to capture my attention. Anyone’s attention. People appear from somewhere. I don’t know how many or who they are. I don’t care. There’s more gunfire. I look down at Lacey’s tiny body, the burned hole in the center of her shirt turning red, the blood soaking the material out, out, out like a blooming flower.

Her eyes are still open; they’re looking right at me. “Only so many times…” she gasps. Her voice is a wet rattle in her throat—blood seeping into her airways. Her hand flutters, trying to touch her chest. I take hold of it instead, clasping it tight. “So many times a person can be…fixed,” she whispers. Zeth’s beside me then, his face pale as a ghost’s. He looks down on his sister and there are tears in his eyes.

“No. Not fucking happening,” he says.

Michael then, over Zeth’s shoulder with a gun in his hand. O’Shannessey on the floor beside his boss, both men’s eyes fixed on the ceiling with the stare of the dead.

None of it computes. None of it registers. None of it makes sense.

“What can you do?” Zeth says, turning to me. “Tell me what you need me to do to help.” But I can see the truth in his eyes, even clearer than I can see it in Lacey’s—he knows there’s nothing to be done. There is no help. I shake my head, a fractured sob bursting free from my lips.

“Zeth.” Lacey’s other hand finds her brother’s. Her eyes are already starting to shutter. I’ve seen it happen a million times before. A patient’s eyes are still open, still technically functioning, but they’re not showing the patient what’s in front of them anymore. I have no idea what Lacey’s pale blue eyes are showing her right now, but she smiles. And it’s a beautiful, surprised smile. “Zeth. It’s…it’s going to be okay. Now, everything is going to be…okay.”

Zeth shakes his head. I’ve seen men come apart before. I’ve seen Zeth coming apart these past couple of weeks, showing more and more of himself to me every day, but now…now is an end to every wall he ever built to keep the world out. It comes crashing down on him. And it crushes him. “I’m sorry,” he breathes. “I should have done better. I should have done better. I should have done better.”

I can see the will of effort on Lacey’s face as she struggles to focus, to have just one more cognitive thought. “You did…your best. You gave me…your best. The only one…who ever did. Thank…”