a series of wooden timbers dislodged from the arched dome and crashed in front of him.
He roared, and with a single punch, the first beam splintered. The Captain grabbed another and heaved it aside, then planted his palm on the third beam and launched himself over it like a hurdle. But for every obstacle he crossed, another was ready to take its place. Rubber tires. Iron gates. Cinder blocks.
Ace was toying with him. He wasn’t worried that his longtime rival was using all his strength to get to the church, to get to Adrian.
Ace cast Nova another questioning look, this one tinged with suspicion.
She adjusted the gun in her hand. Put the barrel against Adrian’s skin. He was facing forward, his focus locked on the struggle below. His glasses had slipped slightly down his nose. Nova watched the dip of his lashes as he blinked. The steady rise and fall of his shoulders.
Pull the trigger, Nova.
The gun became heavy. The handle felt slick in her palm.
Adrian’s lips parted. His gaze shifted in her direction. He was still shirtless, his wounds still bleeding through the gauze, and she knew he must be in pain. And yet, he was so still. So steady.
Just waiting.
Pull the trigger.
“His father made the choice for you, little Nightmare.”
She startled. Ace had taken to the air. He was levitating over the nave’s steep roof.
“And now,” he continued, “we must keep our word. We do not make idle threats.”
She tried to nod, but wasn’t sure she succeeded. This time, she didn’t look down at Adrian. That would make it easier. To not see him. To not feel his breaths moving through her. To not remember the steady drum of his heartbeat as she’d once rested her head on his chest.
Her lips moved this time, saying the words to herself. Just pull the trigger.
That was all she had to do and Ace would be proud and Captain Chromium would be devastated and the Anarchists would win. Her family would finally win.
Her own breaths came in strangled hiccups. She was that frightened little girl all over again, staring at the unconscious body of the man who had murdered her family. She was petrified, unable to squeeze her finger, to take that one small action that would avenge her family’s deaths.
Her father. Her mother. Evie. All that she had loved, stolen from her, so brutally, so carelessly.
Her arm started to shake.
This was supposed to be her revenge, and yet … it wasn’t the revenge she’d longed for. This was pain of an entirely new sort.
She couldn’t lose Adrian, too.
A roar came from below, followed by a crash. Ace turned back. The Captain had made it around the front facade and begun scaling the cathedral’s northern wall. The crash had been a saintly stone statue being thrown to the ground and shattering.
Ace’s hands curled into claws. He lowered himself onto one of the stone buttresses, snarling as the Captain launched himself from pillar to window arch, gargoyle to finial. Every time he landed, he punched a new hole into the stonework, forming handholds for himself as he pulled his body higher.
Ace lifted his hands toward the Captain, but Nova wouldn’t know what happened next.
A hand snatched something from her belt. She gasped and swiveled around. Honey had taken her knife.
“For all the diabolical schemes,” said Honey. “If you can’t do it, then I will!”
Honey grabbed Adrian’s forehead and yanked his head back. She reached around, prepared to drag the knife against his throat.
“No!” Nova grabbed Honey’s arm and wrestled it away. Swinging them both around, she gritted her teeth and shoved Honey back against the wall. “Please.”
It was a pathetic plea—a begging, desperate plea.
Honey’s expression was startled, though it quickly darkened. She shoved Nova away. Nova stumbled, but caught herself. She still held the gun, but she wouldn’t aim it at Honey. Her ally. Her friend.
“I thought we were past this,” Honey growled. “He’s a Renegade, Nova. He’s one of them.”
“I know,” she said, her voice sounding weak even in her own head. “I know.”
It was all she could think to say. Because Honey was right. And there was no way for her to explain that at this moment, she didn’t care. She couldn’t even ask Honey not to hurt him. She couldn’t suggest that they let him go, because where would he go? And what would Ace think?
But still.
Still.
She’d thought she could do it. She’d thought—for Ace. For the Anarchists. For her family. For this world. She could do it, if