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“Don’t,” I say. “Don’t take another step, because I swear, I will cut you. I will jam this blade into your heart so fast you won’t know what hit you.Just like you did to my dad.”

I watch as the air whooshes right out of him. His shoulders sink, his spine slackens, and this fake, plastic boy deflates right before me. “So, you know,” he says, not even trying to deny it. “May I ask how?”

I nod to where the ball lies near his feet. “Psychometry,” I say. “Just one of many talents a Timekeeper has at their disposal, it seems.”

He cocks his head, pauses a beat, then nods as though my dad’s choice to run suddenly makes sense. He was buying time to embed a message he hoped I’d someday find. And I did.

If there are any miracles here, it was that.

And as saddened as I am by the loss, I’m relieved to know my father was never the man I accused him of being. The opposite of the deadbeat dad I’d convinced myself that he was, my father was kind, smart, and loving. It wasn’t his choice to desert us. My dad died a hero, doing right by both the Timekeepers and me.

Suddenly, it all makes sense. All those teachings—the tarot, numerology, the symbols, the art, the ancient philosophers—all of it was leading to this.

My father knew all along that this, right here, is what I was destined for.

Which means that time the Unraveling revealed his distress when my mom showed him the pregnancy test—it wasn’t because he didn’t want me. It was more that he was grieving the life I was destined to live. That it wouldn’t be normal, happy, but instead burdened by the sort of destiny I never would’ve chosen for myself.

My father dedicated his last breath to trying to protect me, warn me, against the very person who now stands before me.

A boy I so recently kissed.

And to think I turned my back on Braxton for being a Timekeeper, only to discover that I’m a Timekeeper, too. The irony feels like a cruel joke played at my expense.

“I was a different person back then,” Killian says, pulling me out of my reverie. “I was fourteen, full of cocky bravado, out to make my mark on the world.”

“By killing my dad.”

“By following Arthur’s orders.”

My blood runs ice-cold. “Arthur told you to kill him?” I hold my breath in my cheeks, wondering if it’s even worse than I thought.

Killian hesitates, then shakes his head. “No,” he finally says. “That one’s on me, and it’s a terrible mistake I regret to this day.”

“A terrible mistake because you only got the decoy?”

He shakes his head, runs a hand through his hair. Eyes narrowed on mine, he says, “You still don’t get it—do you?”

I glare at Killian, unsure what he’s getting at.

“Only a Timekeeper can find the missing pieces,” he says. “The decoys, the real ones—they’re all enchanted.”

I nod, sensing there’s more. “And?” I tighten my grip on the hilt so hard, my knuckles turn white.

“And only a Timekeeper can carry the pieces through time,” he tells me, confirming what my dad just told me.

“And I suppose that’s the only reason I’m still alive?”

“No, Shiv.” He shakes his head emphatically. “Everything I told you, my feelings for you—that’s all real. You’ve got to believe me!”

“Believe you? How can I believe you when Isawyou? I watched the whole thing as though I was there.” I swallow past the lump in my throat and force myself to continue. “I saw you dump your cigarette ash onto my dad’s face. I saw you—”

“Shiv, I—” Killian starts to protest, but I cut him right off.

“All this time, you pretended to be my friend, pretended you cared about me, when it was all just a lie—some sick attempt at getting revenge on Braxton for leaving you behind, when all he was really doing was protecting me from you!”

“You don’t know that. You—”

“Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong. I know everything now, including your plan to rape me before you eventually kill me!” The vision replays in my head. Killian, with a leer on his face, thrusting his hips back and forth as he brags about his plans to send me out with a bang. “I saw you, Killian. Therealyou. Not this charming, pretend version you show to the world.”