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“No!” I try to leap out of Jace’s grasp. “Don’t hurt them.”

“I really thought this would be an easy decision for you.” The Centress pivots and swoops in front of Kelter, caressing his jaw with a single long-nailed finger on her way by. “What reason do you have to let a Vaile live, especially this one?” She passes Eli, running that same finger over his cheek and down his chest.

Every reason.“Let them go. You can have me.”

“I already have you.” She huffs a sigh and flops a lazy hand at the guards. “Carry on.”

Rayde and Poett pull back on the clubs, holding them tight against Eli and Kelter’s throats. Kelter shoves his head back and pulls down on the club, frantic, his hands slipping on the wetness.

“Why are you doing this?” I cry, still struggling against Jace.

Eli bashes a heel into Rayde’s shin behind him and twists, jabbing him with his elbow. No fear on his face, just fury.

“Because, Everielle, even days without food and endless hours of pain weren’t enough to get you to lower your walls. You keep fighting.”

She doesn’t realize how close I am to breaking, but not from crippling pain and hunger pangs. I’m on the verge of collapse from knowing that every bruise and cut, every minute of agony, every lonely breath is the product of my mother’s rejection. A reminder that I’m not wanted, not loved. But maybe if I didn’t spend every day dying, losing myself, losing others, impaled and crushed and breathless and burning and bleeding and pleading for it to end—maybe then it would have been enough.

“Now I see that only the strongest emotions will let me in deep enough,” she continues. “I have to break you to get what I want. Plus”—she rolls her head toward Kelter and Eli, watching them battle against the clubs at their necks—“someone has to be punished for making me wait.”

Kelter clenches his teeth, panic marring his face as peaceful raindrops gather on his beard.

I need to buy time. “Okay, stop. I’ll choose!”

“Go on.” She mocks me with her calmness.

“Tell them to stop. Let me think.”

“Oh, that’s not happening, dear. Think quickly, or they’ll both be gone.”

She’s serious. She’s letting the guards kill them. A blue hue clouds around Kelter’s mouth. His grasp weakens on the club, his knees bending beneath him. Eli continues his fight, but the club stays firm at his throat, a shade of gray crawling up his face.

Damn her. She can’t do this. My breaths come faster, the helplessness crushing my chest. My insides are torn out, tied in knots and shoved back in, my head and heart at odds with each other.

“Stop, please stop,” I beg as my mind runs in circles. My Kelter, my friend. I can’t lose him. And Eli—he needs me. He sees me. I see him. But Kelter would never lie, never betray me.

The clubs press harder. Kelter’s eyes find mine, the greener one gleaming. I can’t look. My whole body is shrieking. I’m going to lose them both.

Too long.

Too much time.

Too little air.

The ticking seconds rap through my blood.

“Kelter! I choose Kelter!”

Golden specks flare in Eli’s eyes as they lock onto mine.

“Release them.” My mother extends her hand out flat. “The knife.”

Kelter and Eli gasp for air, color rushing back to their faces.

Poett pulls a knife from his pocket, unsheathes it and shuffles forward with Kelter. With a quick scan of the silver blade, he lays the handle in the Centress’ palm.

Eli’s knife. I’d know it anywhere.

Kelter coughs and grabs his throat, tears falling from his bloodshot eyes. I don’t see the rush of relief I expect. His face is ruined with pain. He turns to Eli and grabs him, so tight his knuckles go white and blue veins bulge. Eli rolls him off his shoulder, whipping him away without a glance. Kelter’s hand falls to his side.