slow and sustains a long gash along the length of his arm. He shouts in pain and backs away, toward me, but Devin is right after him. I grit my teeth against the effects of Devin’s gift as I run in to cover Peter. My whole body still hums with electric hurt. But I can’t stand the thought of seeing Peter killed right in front of me, of watching another friend fall—and after I told Lai I’d do my best to protect him. I won’t fail either of them.
Peter’s ragged breaths ring in my ears as I match Devin blow for blow. But he’s faster than I am and quick to overpower me. I’m on the ground before I’m even fully aware of it. Pain burns through my leg—but it’s a different pain from before. A gash cuts across my calf, deep and burning. When I try to stand, I fall right back down.
Devin stands in front of me. I swing my knife at him, but he kicks it out of my hand with a laugh.
I clench my fists. I’m sorry, Lai. I couldn’t follow you to the end of this war after all.
With a fire in his eyes, Devin lifts his sword to deal the final blow, but Peter rushes in to block the rebel’s blade with his dagger. It looks like a toy in comparison.
“Peter, don’t!” I shout. He won’t be able to hold off Devin for long. He needs to get out of here, not try to protect me. If I can’t stand, I’m already dead. There’s no reason for both of us to die.
“No!” Peter shouts right back. His eyes burn more fiercely than Al’s as he pushes against Devin, even as the rebel’s blade gets closer and closer to Peter’s collarbone. “I’m not going to watch any more of the people I care about die right in front of me!”
“Then I’ll just have to kill you first.” Devin laughs again, and I know his sword is about to toss Peter’s small blade aside.
But then he stops laughing. The sound turns into a gasp, then a choking cough as he looks down at the sword suddenly sprouting through his chest from behind. In an incredibly strange moment that seems to last a year, we all look behind him.
I expect to see one of the Order members, maybe even Lai herself, appearing to save her old friend. Instead, one of the rebels’ leaders stands there holding the blade piercing through Devin. The one with the gift over ice, Joan.
We all stare at her in shocked silence.
“The hell have you done?” Devin asks, but his voice comes out sputtering and wet.
“You have long been a disgrace to us,” Joan says. Her voice is tinged with disgust. “Your love of violence, of pain—you’ve never fought for peace for the gifted. Only for yourself and the chance to kill. You should have been judged a long time ago.”
Devin tries to twist around and slash at Joan, but the sword impaling him keeps him stuck in place.
Joan twists her sword and Devin screams. I think I’m going to be sick. “And that,” she says quietly, “was for killing Paul.”
Recognition flashes across Peter’s face at the same time I remember the rebels’ first ambush, back when we were still with the military. She was the rebel Paul had been head over heels for before everything fell apart.
As Joan rips her sword out of Devin and lets him fall to the ground, Peter snaps out of his shock and attempts to help me up. We back away as Joan watches Devin’s last breaths contemptuously. I think he spits what sounds like a threat or an insult at her, but whatever he says, it doesn’t matter. I see the moment the light leaves his eyes for good.
Peter and I watch Joan cautiously. Peter holds one of my arms over his shoulder—the sole reason I can stand right now as I leave any weight off my injured leg. Even if this rebel didn’t have a powerful gift, even if she wasn’t incredibly strong according to Erik, she’d have no problem killing both of us so long as Peter refuses to abandon me. I almost tell him he needs to leave me and run for it, but when I recall the look in his eyes as he attempted to hold back Devin, I know the words would fall on deaf ears. I say nothing.
“This isn’t how it was supposed to be,” Joan says quietly. She looks