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“The war’s already started.” Soulara straightened up, her hair wild around her face, her muscles strong and still ready for her to pounce at any second.

“Soulara.” Autumn’s voice shook.

“What did you do, Walton?” Cole’s voice hard and accusatory despite being muffled behind his hands.

Autumn ignored his question. She couldn’t do this. Not with everyone staring at her, accusing her of exactly what she had done. She had betrayed her people—not Soulara. She had proved to everyone, to herself, that she was no better than the family she despised. The family she had run away from, swearing she would be different. But she wasn’t any better than any of them. But it wasn’t too late.

She hadn’t realized it, but Soulara had been right.

She had chosen, and now she had to choose again.

Autumn wouldn’t let Soulara kill these humans. She couldn’t. They were doing the job she hadn’t. They were just trying to save their people. And they were ignorant. They didn’t deserve to be murdered for ignorance, did they?

“I won’t let you hurt them.” Autumn’s voice trembled in her own ears, but she couldn’t back down. This was her job as a soldier.

Soulara blinked, looking as though the words had hit her like physical blows.

“We didn’t know!” One of the techs pleaded from behind Autumn.

“And that makes the genocide of my people okay?” Soulara was reaching a frenetic level of chaos.

The room tensed as Soulara’s voice grew louder. Autumn had taught Soulara the word but not the power it wielded. And that power struck them mute. Genocide. That was exactly what this was.

“Why did you come here?” Autumn asked finally, trying to figure out a way to keep Soulara occupied long enough to get someone else there or get her out.

“To play my part in this war,” Soulara said in such a flat voice that Autumn wondered if the emotion she had heard in the past had truly ever existed.

Her heart felt as though it were being ripped from her body and shredded into pieces in front of her. She should never have allowed herself to become tangled up with this mermaid, to think that it could possibly work out between them.

“I don’t want war,” Autumn whispered, the tears pushing their way down her face. Crying was an ugly thing. Autumn had watched herself too many times in the mirror shards back on Earth. She knew her face would be red and blotched, the heat blossoming in uneven patches over her cheeks and down her neck. But why was she crying?

Because it wasn’t war.

It wasn’t death.

It was her dark night.

“This is war.” Soulara stalked past Autumn, not looking her way. The techs shrank back as Soulara’s long legs glided her past them. Even on land, her grace was mesmerizing.

Anger bubbled up again, tinged with that anguish Autumn didn’t want to name. Autumn clenched her fists and spun around, watching as Soulara walked toward the door.

“I’m not the only one who has made a choice!” Autumn forced the words out before Soulara disappeared through the doorway. She needed Soulara to look at her just one more time. She needed those stunning blue eyes on her face, watching her. Maybe it wouldn’t be true then.

Soulara stopped and faced Autumn. Their eyes locked, the space between them so wide that Autumn was sure they’d never be close again. This was the end. This was her fault for entertaining dreams.

“I’m doing what’s right for my people.” Soulara’s voice was a low growl. “Get off my planet while you still can.” Soulara turned away and disappeared from view.

There was no escaping the silence.

And there was no running away from the consequences of her choices. Autumn didn’t want to turn around. She didn’t want to face the music. She didn’t what to know how Chalmers would have her murdered for being a traitor.

“Did you know there were other people on the planet?” One of the younger techs squeaked out.

“What?” Autumn focused on the young man. Acne covered his cheeks, and his shaved head made him look even younger, which she imagined had been the opposite of his desire for the haircut.

“Did you know about the native people on the planet?” He seemed so curious, like this was an experiment with a hiccup, not a war already begun.

“Not people,” Autumn mumbled.