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But the coiling outrage within me shrieks, jerking against torturous bonds.

“Now, the coup de grâce. Dear one, point that gun right between his eyes.” Her words lilt with meaning, a taunt against a previous transgression.

From the depths of my fugue, I see Ero’s open arms waiting for me to?—

I failed before.

When I shot him. I couldn’t stop myself. Only redirect the bullet by a fraction of an inch. It’s not enough this time. Missing the mark by inches will still kill him.

Someone places a gun in my hand.

The world rocks on its axis, quaking up through my bare feet, all the way to my white-knuckled grip on the pistol. Ero stares at me, watching my eyes instead of the barrel rising toward his forehead.

“Ero, be a doll, and allow her to take your life.”

“My life is already hers, Ananke,” Ero mutters, failing to a whisper. “Trust the end of the fall, love.”

What does he mean?

Cold metal dents the skin between his eyes. Onyx eyes that never leave my face.

Trust the end …

“Get ready to fire,” she draws the words out.

My finger slides over the trigger.

Trust the fall?

A faint, almost inaudible melody hums from Ero’s barely parted lips. My heart skips a beat.

His voice is smooth. Resonant. Beautiful.

Just like I imagined itafter we fellfrom the roof in Lisbon…

Sound drifts up and across my tongue, buzzing across my lips as I join him, harmonize with him.

Time holds her breath.

Memory claps like thunder, a rush of images and sounds. In a split second, I see our time together, the real, our fabricated life in the lab, the missions and adventures all over the world. The feel of his body as we danced across the globe after every kill, every robbery and rescue. And how we took each other over and over again each night, giving into our growing desire for comfort and connection with one another.

All of this bombards me right up to a final thought, an impulse that strikes a fraction of a second before Ananke opens her mouth to command me to?—

I rip my hand back.

“Shoo—”

The blast of the bullet exploding from the chamber ruptures my ear drum as I press my hand to the side of my head. A rail spike of pain impales my skull.

I look up from where I dropped to a tight huddle around my knees. Ero gazes down at me with a wicked grin, looks back toward Ananke.

Dom springs from his seat beside her, shock on his face.

Her expression is irate, confused. She’s shouting.

And I cannot hear her voice.

Taking Ero’s hand, I surge to my feet, into his arms, watching his face as he shouts, “NOW!”