“Let her go,” Peter commanded.

“Why would I do that?” Gunnar laughed. “It’s just so much fun watching you suffer!”

“I know what you’re doing,” Peter put his foot on the first step of the altar. “You still think that you’re going to get out of here alive, but you don’t really care if you do. You only care about winning, and winning for you is destroying me.”

“Very true,” Gunnar admitted, then nodded at Leif. “Then destroying him. The rest of them don’t really matter to me.” His grip tightened on me. “But you know why I can’t let her go.”

“She’s the means to destroying me.” Peter took another step up, and Gunnar pressed his nail into my vein, breaking the skin just enough to draw a little blood, and Peter froze. “You want to make her suffer, so you can make me watch. Killing her is your way of torturing me.”

“Yes, and so far it seems to be working,” Gunnar smiled, but there was an unease behind it.

“If I die, you lose.” Peter bent down, picking up a titanium arrow off the top step of the altar. Olivia had been shooting them all over, and a stray one had landed a few feet from us. I felt Gunnar’s confidence falter for the first time. “I want to die. If I die before she does, I don’t see anything. I don’t suffer at all.”

“I’ll still kill her,” Gunnar insisted nervously.

“You’re gonna kill her either way, according to you.” Peter pointed the arrow towards his own heart, pressing the tip against his chest. “But this way, I’m not destroyed. I’ve gotten exactly what I’ve wanted, and you haven’t.”

“You’ll die knowing she’s going to, and that might be enough for me,” Gunnar said with false cheer. Peter’s idea unnerved him. Testing him, Peter pushed the arrow into his chest, not deep enough to hurt but enough to draw blood. “How do you propose I make you suffer then?”

“Let her go, and we’ll battle it out, hand to hand,” Peter said. “The way real men fight. If you catch me, then you can let your surviving henchman do away with her while I watch. I’ll suffer even worse because it’s my idea.”

It was a horrible idea, and that’s exactly why it appealed to Gunnar. I saw no way that it could work out where either of us lived, but Peter was just buying time. He really didn’t care if he lived or died, but he wanted to give me a chance to run away. I wouldn’t, though, not when he and Jack and everyone were still here risking their lives. I would never leave without them.

“Peter, no! This is stupid,” I said. Before I had been fighting Gunnar, but now I hung onto his arm, trying to keep me to him.

“That’s why I liked you, Peter,” Gunnar laughed. “You were brilliant. If only you hadn’t killed my right hand man. We would’ve been so happy together.” With that, Gunnar threw me and I landed roughly in the pews.

Leif helped me to my feet, and I shook off the pain. It faded quickly, but things still hurt. Peter and Gunnar were squaring off, staring at each other as Gunnar taunted him. Peter showed little emotion, and I hoped that he was planning something.

The noises in the balcony hadn’t gotten any better, but from what I could tell, everyone was still alive. Leif and I stood unsurely in the broken pews, neither of us knowing how we could really help the situation.

“Oh, come on, Peter!” Gunnar groaned. “I didn’t spare the girl so we could have a staring contest.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint you,” Peter said dryly.

Peter stood on the altar steps. Gunnar wanted Peter to come to him, but when he wouldn’t, he tired of waiting. He dove at Peter, more to get the fight going than to actually hurt him, and Peter deftly jumped out of the way. He leapt over the sacrament table, and as soon as he landed, he jumped up again, grabbing onto the giant cross hanging on the wall. He scrambled to climb up, using Jesus as footing, and Gunnar just stared at him.

“Really, Peter? Are you that much of a coward?” Gunnar looked dubiously at him, and I was wondering the same thing. “I had expected so much more than this.”

Gunnar had his back to us, so I took a step forward, planning to attack him, but Leif put his hand on my arm. I looked at him, and he mouthed “not yet.” Apparently, he had a better understanding of Peter’s plan than I did.

Peter climbed higher up the cross, and to my confusion, he started pulling at the bolts that held it to the wall. He started on the right arm of the cross, and then when they were free, he moved onto the top.

“What are you doing?” Gunnar asked. “Is this some kind of suicide attempt?”

“Something like that,” Peter said and climbed to start loosening the left arm.

“I can slaughter the girl right now, if you like,” Gunnar offered.

Peter glanced back at me, but he didn’t stop trying to free the bolts. The cross started to sway and groan, but he kept pulling at it. Once he got broke the bolt from the arm, there was nothing attaching it to the wall except for the bolts at the foot of the cross. Peter hung onto the arm, with his feet pressed against the wall and started to push off.

Because the cross was still connected at the bottom, it should’ve just swung down, moving like the hands of a clock until it hung upside down, with top resting on the floor at the 9 o'clock position. But Peter pushed hard against the wall, forcing it swing down and away from the wall. The cross groaned and as it swung down and out, like a crazed pendulum.