Page 128 of Gunslinger Girl

Her mouth twitched into a smirk. “This is Cessation, remember? Selene’s word is law. Folks will go along with whatever she tells them to go along with.” She paused. “It’s too late to undo what’s been done, but maybe you can cut a deal with Selene and still do some good, like we talked about. Become president. Protect Cessation, stop the raids on the dissident settlements, give the former Patriots a voice in the—”

Sheridan laughed. Pity stiffened as he leveled his gun at her head. “I knew you were gullible, but do you still believe all that nonsense? To hell with the Patriots and whatever scraps of them are left. The war is over. They lost. And the only useful thing that ever came out of their continued defiance was Cessation.” A desperate, manic smile split his face. “But you’re right about one thing. Selene is my only option now.”

Her skin crawled with terror as he took a step forward, eyes like daggers. “I’ll take my chances with her, but not with you. Not again.” His voice dropped to a hiss. “And just between us, I’m finished with this place. If I do make it back to Columbia alive, I want you to know that the first thing I’m going to do is convince Drakos-Pryce to raze this entire godforsaken city to the ground.”

He pulled the trigger.

A white-hot tremor of terror surged through her, so encompassing that caustic moments passed before Pity realized no pain accompanied it.

Sheridan tried again.

Nothing.

Slowly, deliberately, Pity drew her own gun, never taking her eyes off him. “You should have kept better count of your shots.”

Sheridan tossed the weapon away. “I guess so.”

“Me?” Her voice sounded distant as she aimed her barrel at his chest, like someone else was speaking. “I’ve got a full cylinder. Six shots I can put into you. One for Max, one for Kitty, one for Beau and Adora. Hell, even one for Selene. And that still leaves one for me, for all the times you’ve almost killed me now.”

“I surrender.” His face, his voice—the entirety of him was subdued. He put up his hands. “You don’t want to kill me, Pity. I may have been wrong about some things, but not about you. You’re no cold-blooded killer. Take me to Selene.”

She glared at him, gun growing heavier as indecision threatened to drag her to a floor that knew spilt blood as well as a battlefield. Sheridan had lied and manipulated her, even tried to kill her. Because of him, Max might be dead. If Selene allowed him to leave the city, he would still be a threat.

And if she didn’t…

The darkened stands leaned in around them like the walls of a grave. Stretched beyond bearing, something within her ruptured.

A person’s death shouldn’t be a spectacle, whether they deserve it or not.

“I don’t want to kill you,” Pity said, voice shaking. Tears welled up and threatened to spill. “But if I did, I’d only need one shot.”

“I know,” Sheridan said, nodding with relief, “I kn—”

She fired.

The gunshot echoed like a firecracker through the empty arena. Eyes wide with surprise, Sheridan looked down at the crimson stain blossoming on his chest. A moment later, he pitched forward onto the ground, his heart’s blood pooling beneath him.

Soon, even that stilled.

Pity left him where he fell, a faint roar lingering in her ears as she departed the theatre, like the ghost of a thousand rounds of applause.

CHAPTER 43

“Do you want the good news first?” said Dr. Starr. “Or the bad?”

“Don’t draw it out, Doc.” Siena crossed her arms. “He alive or not?”

Pity stared at nothing, thankful Siena could ask the question she couldn’t.

Olivia had already come and gone with other news: Beau was badly injured but would recover. Sheridan’s mercenaries were dead, captured, or hightailing it out of Cessation. Halcyon had managed to elude capture for a few hours but was eventually found trying to bribe his way out of the city. The contamination of the Tin Men was a trickier situation, and everyone who had joined on in the last year was under scrutiny.

But when it came to Max…

Pity longed to split from her skin, which seemed a size too small and shrinking. Her arm, bandaged at her side, had throbbed like a bad tooth, keeping time with the minutes that ticked by. And yet the moment Starr walked in the door, she was struck by silence, too afraid to even look at his face for what she might see there.

“He’s alive,” said Starr. “That’s the good news.”

Pity’s stomach quivered. Thank you, Lord. But the smile that had formed crumbled a heartbeat later.