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“Nic?” It’s a small voice, as if coming from deep within. A soft sob follows. “Nicola?”

I hesitate.

“Nic?” Tears brim in her eyes, and I don’t see Lori anymore. I see Shania.

I stay where I am, knife raised, blood dripping. I search Shania’s gaze for a sign that this is a trick to make me stop. I don’t see it.

So what am I going to do now?

They’re in there. Patrice and Lori. I know they are, and they aren’t going anywhere.

I can’t save Shania.

Shania had been ready to watch me die. She’d set me up from the start. She threw Anton’s ashes into the trash, and I want her to pay for that.

But that makes it worse, doesn’t it? I want her to pay, and so if I slam this blade between her ribs, is that why? Not to save my life or to protect Jin, but to make Shania pay?

“Nic…” Anton’s voice whispers from somewhere behind Shania, who’s doubled over, sobbing and retching as she clutches her bloodied chest.

“I don’t know what to do,” I whisper to Anton.

He appears then, as clearly as I’ve ever seen him, his face drawn in a sad smile.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

My own tears rise. “No advice?”

That sad smile quirks at the corners. “Did you ever take my advice? Anyone’s? You’ll do what you need to do, and it’ll be the right thing.”

My eyes fill. “I miss you.”

His mouth opens—and Shania lunges at me, howling as she smashes both fists into my chest, pushing me back. I raise the knife, but she just keeps coming, face contorted with rage.

“We aren’t going to stop, Janica.” It’s Patrice now, snarling. “Iwillkill you. I swear I will.”

I slash the knife. It catches her outstretched hand, but she only shoves me again, harder. Then something flickers behind her eyes. A flash of horror from Shania, quickly replaced by Lori’s death’s-head grin.

“We aren’t stopping, girl,” Lori says. “We will kill you. We will kill your friend back at the house. We will kill anyone who comes to find you.”

Another blow, this one slamming me into the car. My foot hits Mrs. Kilmer’s outstretched hand, and when I look down, Lori grabsfor my knife hand, but it’s a half-assed swipe, as if she’s not actually trying to grab it.

Because she’s not.

In that moment, the world seems to creak to a halt. The blood stops pounding in my ears. My adrenaline ebbs. Even my breath returns, clear and even.

I understand what Patrice and Lori are doing… and I lift my hands over my head.

“I’m sorry, Shania,” I say. “If you’re in there, and you can hear me, I truly am sorry. You thought I was responsible for what happened to your sister. I understand, and I forgive you. I only hope you can forgive me for this.”

I draw back the hand with the knife, and victory flares in Lori’s eyes. She sees the end coming. She sees freedom coming. The freedom to bide her time and return when she can, called forth by another family member with this darkness weaving through them.

“I’m sorry, Shania,” I whisper. “I really am.”

I plow my hand into her stomach. Lori throws back her head, her agonized scream almost ecstatic. With the pain comes freedom. A knife in her gut—

I see the moment where she realizes the truth. Where her head whips up, eyes widening, gaze going to the knife in my left hand… while my right punches her stomach a second time.

Lori falls backward, and I pounce on her. I jam the knife into my back pocket and flip Lori over and then pin her like Cirillo did to me. She fights like a wild thing, all gnashing teeth and howls of rage. She wants me to kill Shania. Kill her host. If I do, I release her. I release Lori, and I release Patrice.