“It’s over, Rose,” he says. “Surrender.”

“Never!” I spit.

He nods at Natalie, who presses something on her watch. Almost immediately, a shadow blocks out the sun. I glance up. A Transporter appears out of the clouds and rapidly descends. Air whips around my face as the aircraft approaches the stage, stopping a few feet above the platform. It’s hovering so close, I can see the teenage girl waving at me from the cockpit, a smirk on her lips.

The girl expertly turns the aircraft 180 degrees, and the back hatch hisses open. Standing in the cargo hold is Siobhan Buchanan, along with a Bastet woman and boy, a red-haired girl and a middle-aged Darkling woman. It takes a moment to register that this gaunt, broken woman is my cousin, Lucinda. They all point their guns at me. I’m trapped.

“Edmund Rose, you are under arrest!” Siobhan Buchanan says.

I shift my gaze to Lucinda.

“This has to end, Edmund,” Lucinda shouts over the roar of the aircraft’s rotors. “It’s not what Theora would have wanted, and you know it!”

I look back at the teenage Darkling girl, who is watching me from the foot of the stage. Her hands are clutched to her chest, and she looks pleadingly back at me. I close my eyes and listen to my heartbeat, remembering Theora’s words. It’s easy to hate. The true test of our hearts is to forgive. I should have listened to her.

Forgive me, Theora.

I open my eyes. “I surrender.”

35.

NATALIE

Two weeks later, Centrum

ROSE PLAZA IS BUSTLING with activity. I squeeze through the crowds, my head covered by my hooded jacket, as I make my way toward the Fracture—the shard-shaped building where the new coalition government headquarters is based, which was formed within hours of Purian Rose’s surrender. A few eyes slide toward me, and people begin to whisper excitedly to each other. I’m quite the celebrity these days, but I really don’t want the attention. Especially not today. My hand slips into my jacket pocket, finding the yellow-handled knife concealed there. I trace my fingers over the word etched into the wood. Polly. We held a memorial service for my sister last week but it wasn’t the closure I needed. I still have one thing left to do.

Camera crews are placed around the plaza, and workmen dash about as they erect a large wooden cross in the city square. They’re preparing for Purian Rose’s execution in fifteen minutes, under my father’s watchful eye. Rose’s televised trial two weeks ago lasted just one day. It didn’t take long for the courts to come back with a verdict of guilty for his war crimes, and sentence him to death. Ash was dead set against the execution, saying it made us no better than the former tyrant, but he was outvoted by the rest of the coalition government. I’m against it too, but for a different reason. My stomach knots, my fingers tightening around the knife.

A middle-aged Darkling man with violet eyes and ebony hair bumps into me, knocking me out of my thoughts. He mumbles an apology and hurries toward the stage with a beautiful, flame-haired Dacian woman, their heads bowed. It’s obvious from their thin bodies and hard expressions that they were prisoners in the Tenth. They’ve traveled a long way to witness Purian Rose’s execution at noon. Before they can reach the stage, a group of tough-looking men with shaved heads and rose tattoos behind their left ears block their path.

“Go back to the ghetto, nipper,” one of the men says, spitting at the Darkling. “We don’t want your kind in our city.”

The Darkling flashes his fangs in response, and the people around them fearfully back away. Before a fight breaks out, several armed coalition guards in cerulean-blue uniforms race over to them and usher the tattooed men away. A few guards stay with the Darkling man and Dacian woman, their message clear: there will be no violence today . . . other than Rose’s execution, of course. I frown. It’s going to take a long time before the tensions between our races goes away. To be honest, I’m not sure they ever truly will, but we have to keep fighting for peace. Otherwise, what was the point of all this?

I enter the Fracture. The lobby is an enormous space, with a twenty-foot-high gold statue of Purian Rose at its center. It’s due to be removed next week, but in the meantime a blue flag has been draped over his head. In fact, everywhere I look, the once red-and-white Sentry banners have been replaced with cerulean-blue flags with four interlinked black rings on them—the symbol of the coalition government, each ring representing one of the four races: human, Darkling, Bastet and Lupine.

A few coalition guards—some human, others Lupine—nod at me as I walk by. I give them a polite smile, trying to ignore the twisting feeling in my gut. I slide a finger down the blade in my pocket. I need to get to the basement, where Purian Rose is being detained in the cells. I promised my sister I’d kill him for what he did to her, and that’s exactly what I intend to do. It’s been impossible to get to him these past two weeks, as he was hidden in a secret location to stop people—like myself—from taking matters into their own hands. But he was moved here this morning in preparation for his execution. This is my only chance to get to him.

On my way to the elevator, I pass the council chamber where the coalition government has congregated. The doors are wide open, as they nearly always are—a symbol of the “openness and transparency of the new alliance.” I hear Ash’s angry voice spilling out of the room and pause briefly by the doorway. He’s pacing up and down the oval room. He’s dressed in a luxurious black frock coat with orange silk lining, tailored black shirt and pants, and expensive leather jackboots. It’s a more chic version of what he wore the day of the Cleansing ceremony, which is no mistake; the whole outfit has been carefully put together especially for Purian Rose’s televised execution. Ash tugs at his collar, clearly uncomfortable.

“We can’t go ahead with this execution,” he says. “It’s barbaric. I know what it feels like to be pinned up to one of those crosses; I can’t condone this.”

“The Workboots need to see him executed, Ash,” Roach says. She’s sitting at a long mahogany table with the other members of the cabinet. Her scalp has a smattering of ginger fuzz on it, where her hair has started to regrow, and she’s wearing tight pants, a white vest and a long black frock coat similar to Ash’s. “They won’t feel safe until they know he’s dead.”

“The Sentry will think we’re weak if we don’t execute him,” Mother adds.

Sitting next to them are the Lupine ministers: Garrick and a woman named Cassandra, who has vivid purple hair and matching lipstick, reminding me of Sasha. To my right, the new Bastet Consul winks at me. I smile back at Elijah. As the last surviving son of the Theroux family, he inherited the position and he’s doing an amazing job under the guidance of his mother, Yolanda, who is his official adviser. He’s cut his russet hair short, emphasizing his topaz eyes and high cheekbones, and he’s dressed in a dark green frock coat, with matching pants and waistcoat. Around his left wrist is his gold band. Unlike Ash, he seems comfortable in the elegant clothes. They suit him.

Opposite them are Sigur and Lucinda, the Darkling representatives. Sigur’s white hair is loose around his shoulders, which is stark against his violet Ambassador robes. It’s good to see him back where he belongs. Ash and Evangeline have been nominated to represent the twin-bloods. I don’t see her anywhere, but that’s not surprising. She’s been locked in her room since the day of the Cleansing ceremony, refusing to see anyone except Ash and Elijah. We weren’t certain it would happen, but when she touched Purian Rose, her heart activated. She’s refused to let Dr. Craven remove Theora’s heart, saying she wants to feel it beating inside her for as long as she can. I can’t imagine what she must be going through right now, knowing that in fifteen minutes her heartbeat will be snatched from her again.

“Our people deserve retribution,” Sigur says, gesturing toward the com-desk in the center of the room. Projected above the com-desk is a map of the Tenth. The camp was immediately shut down after Purian Rose’s surrender. Even so, there were hundreds of deaths, as some of his devoted followers executed whole barracks of prisoners before we were able to stop them. Those men will be facing their own trials soon enough.

Right now, the government is in the process of trying to rehome all the Darklings. Many have stayed in the Tenth, because they have nowhere else to go. Understandably, they don’t see the point of leaving one ghetto just to return to another, and the human citizens are still nervous about having them integrated into the cities, as I saw outside earlier. For the past week, the coalition government has been finalizing documents to officially give the land over to the Darklings, so they can build a permanent home there. The Tenth will no longer be a detention camp, but the first official Darkling nation. Personally, the thought of living where so many people were slaughtered makes me shudder, but then again, there isn’t anywhere in the country where Darkling blood hasn’t been shed. No matter where they go, they’ll be haunted by the ghosts of their dead loved ones.

Besides, they won’t be building their homes in the actual camps. The coalition intends to rip down Primus-One, Two and Three, and turn them into memorial parks. Then surrounding the parks, where there are currently forests and wilderness, they’ll build four new towns a safe distance from Mount Alba, called Jana, Martha, Zanthina and Annora.

Ash notices me by the doorway and stops pacing. I smile at him, trying to act casual, my hand shaking slightly around the knife in my pocket. His brows inch together as he lightly touches his chest. He must be feeling the echo of my erratic heartbeat inside him. His eyes flick toward my pocket. I quickly turn away.

“Natalie,” he calls out.

I hurry to the elevator and jab the B button. The doors slide shut just as Ash races into the corridor. I take a few deep breaths, readying myself for what I’m about to do. I can do it. I have to do it, for Polly. The doors ping open.

I’m in the basement where the holding cells are. Like everywhere else in the building, the corridor is sparkling white and gold, with chandeliers lighting the way. Even the cell doors look more like the ones you’d see in a plush hotel than a prison. I don’t think the inmates deserve such luxuries, but I don’t suppose it matters at the end of the day. Everyone here is a dead man, and a prison is still a prison, no matter how pretty it looks.

I reach a gilt door at the end of the long corridor, which is guarded by two members of Humans for Unity, both of whom are wearing the new cerulean uniforms with the four-ring emblem on their chests. They salute me.

“I’ve come to see Rose,” I say.

“He has company,” one of the men replies apologetically.

At that moment the cell door opens and Evangeline comes out, her face ashen, her onyx eyes glimmering with tears. She glances up at me. I’m guessing she’s just said her good-byes to Purian Rose. Even though he’s a monster, she’s still connected to him. She hurries past me, saying nothing. The guards step aside. I suddenly feel light-headed, my stomach sick with nerves. Can I really go through with this? Yes. I promised my sister. I enter the cell.

Rose is sitting on a narrow bed, dressed in a simple gray tunic top and pants. Around his neck is a circular pendant. His usually immaculate hair is unkempt, and his skin is makeup free, revealing the true extent of his old scars. On the dressing table beside his bed is a set of expensive dentures, with two gleaming white canine teeth to replace the fangs that were so cruelly ripped from him as an infant.

His hands rest on his lap. I’ve never seen him without his gloves. His fingers don’t have any nails on them and the flesh is puckered—the result of his mother trying to drown him in a bath of scalding water when he was a baby. How different this world would be if she’d succeeded.

“Come to gloat, Miss Buchanan?” he says, not looking up.

“No,” I say, trying to keep my voice even as I take the dagger out of my pocket.

His eyes slide toward me. They rest on the weapon. He doesn’t seem surprised.

“Ah,” he says. “I see.”

“You murdered my sister,” I say, and my voice finally cracks. “She was your daughter. How could you do that to her?”

“I didn’t know she was my daughter until the news broke,” he says.

SNB news revealed the information shortly after Purian Rose’s arrest, along with the Wings evidence.

“Would it have made a difference?” I say, tears welling up in my eyes. “Would you have stopped them from raping her and cutting her up like a piece of meat?”

“No,” he says flatly.

I blink, momentarily stunned by his response, and then the fury sets in. My hand tightens around the knife. He’s just made this a lot simpler. I step toward him and—

The door bursts open and Ash enters the room, followed by the two guards.

“Natalie, stop!” he says, locking his strong arms around my waist and dragging me away from Rose. I struggle against him, punching his arms, kicking my heels into his legs. Ash grunts with pain but doesn’t let go.

“He murdered her!” I scream.

“Natalie, stop! You don’t want to do this.” His arms tighten around me. The two guards look at each other, uncertain what to do. “It’s okay, I’ve got this. You can go.”

They hesitate.

“That’s an order,” he barks.

They obediently back out of the room, closing the door behind them.

“Your girlfriend has quite the temper, Mr. Fisher,” Purian Rose says, a cold smile spreading across his lips. He knows Ash won’t let me kill him. The thought makes me even madder. This is my last chance to avenge Polly’s death!