“He should have been executed,” said Soro.

“I overruled,” said August, affecting that cold, formal tone.

Soro tipped their head. “Which is why he’s still alive.”

Flynn rose to his feet. “August was right. He’s one of ours. And he’s the first survivor we’ve seen.”

Not exactly, thought Kate, but she kept it to herself.

“If there is a cure for this condition—”

“If there is a cure,” she cut in, “it will be killing the Chaos Eater.”

The silver-haired Sunai shot her a look. “What were you doing outside the Compound?”

Kate kept her gaze on the cell. “Hunting.”

“With whose permission?”

“Mine,” said August firmly. “And without her, the entire squad would be dead.”

“The entire squad might as well be,” said Soro.

“Enough,” said Flynn wearily.

“We’re all going to die,” murmured the prisoner. “I’ll make it fast.”

Flynn tapped a microphone. “Do you know who you are?”

The soldier twitched, shuddered at the voice, and shook his head, as if trying to dislodge something. “Myer. Squad Sixteen.”

“Do you know what you’ve done?”

“I didn’t mean to but it felt so good so good I want to—no no no.” His breath hitched, and then he mouthed something, too low to hear. Kate read his lips.

Kill me.

And then, just as quickly, he was back again, promising mercy, mercy—that he would make it quick—and Kate wrapped her arms around her ribs.

This is me.

A hand settled on her shoulder. “Come on,” said August, and she let him lead her away from the soldier and his screams.

As soon as they were in the elevator, Kate slumped against the wall and bowed her head, eyes lost behind the shadow of her bangs. August couldn’t read her face like that, and it made him think of the way she’d looked out on the light grid—when she’d looked into the mirror and all of her features had gone eerily blank, like she wasn’t even there. And then she’d come crashing back, all the color and life rushing into her face before the force of it—whatever it was—hit her.

“You’re staring,” said Kate without looking up.

“Out there,” he said slowly. “When you were searching for it—”

“Everything has a cost.”

“You should have told me.”

“Why?” Her head drifted up. “You said yourself, August. We do what we have to. We become what we have to.” They reached the top floor, and Kate stepped out. “I thought you of all people would approve.”

August trailed her down the hall. “It’s not the same.”

Kate gave him an exasperated look. “No,” she said, “You’re right. It’s not.” She cocked her head, bangs sliding aside to reveal the silver in her eye. It had spread, thrown out cracks and stolen more of the blue. “This thing in my head, it’s not going away. It’s there, every moment, trying to tip that balance, and turn me into that thing parading as a soldier in your basement. But at least I’m fighting it.”

With that she turned and vanished down the hall.

Let her go, said Leo.

But August didn’t.

He found her sitting on his bed, her knees drawn up.

He set the violin case against the door and sank onto the bed beside her, suddenly exhausted. For a few long moments they sat there, neither speaking, even though he knew how much Kate hated silence. And, even though his presence should make her want to speak, it was his own voice that rose out of the quiet.

“I didn’t stop fighting,” he said, the words so low he worried Kate wouldn’t hear them, but she did. “I just got tired of losing. It’s easier this way.”

“Of course it’s easier,” said Kate. “That doesn’t mean it’s right.”

Right. The world broke down into right and wrong, innocence and guilt. It was supposed to be a simple line, a clean divide, but it wasn’t.

“You asked me where I went,” he said, pressing his palms together. “I don’t know.” And that small confession, it was like stepping off a cliff, and he was falling. “I don’t know who I am, and who I’m not, I don’t know who I’m supposed to be, and I miss who I was; I miss it every day, Kate, but there’s no place for that August anymore. No place for the version of me who wanted to go to school, and have a life, and feel human, because this world doesn’t need that August. It needs someone else.”

Kate’s shoulder came to rest against his, warm, solid.

“I spent a long time playing that game,” she said. “Pretending there were other versions of this world, where other versions of me got to live, and be happy, even if I didn’t, and you know what? It’s lonely as hell. Maybe there are other versions, other lives, but this one’s ours. It’s all we’ve got.”

“I can’t protect this world and care about it.”

Kate met his gaze. “That’s the only way to do it.”

He folded forward. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because it hurts too much.” He shuddered. “Every day, every loss, it hurts.”