CHAPTER 57 #2
I slam the heel of my palm against the control stick, cursing.
In the rearview, I catch sight of that hovercar again, the same one that followed Charlotte and me to the Copper Headquarters.
I swerve and hit the brakes so hard my seatbelt bites into my collarbone.
The hovercar fishtails, then jerks to a stop, floating alongside me.
Behind the control stick is William Lee, his head ducked as if trying to disappear behind the dashboard.
The rage I feel over Harrison’s sentence and Vivian’s loss narrows, focusing squarely on him: William Lee, who tripped on his own reckless pride until it cost his brother his life; whose fatal error forced Harrison to draw his saber against the Blues, unwittingly leading the Greens into a charge we couldn’t win; who lit the spark that dragged us all to this cliff’s edge, where good men fall and nothing catches them.
For one terrible instant, I want to kill William.
I want to tear him out of that hovercar with my bare hands and scream every drop of my pain into his face.
My fingers twitch toward the door handle, then freeze.
I know this is how the high-citizens break us, by turning low-citizens on each other, feeding us crumbs of blame so we never dare lift our eyes to the banquet of rot above our heads.
No more wasted hate. Not on low-citizens. Not on William.
I slam my foot down. The power core screams, the hoverfield shuddering as I rocket away, leaving William staring after me like a ghost.
I keep circling the Copper Headquarters, searching for Charlotte, but there’s no sign of her.
She doesn’t answer my calls, and my texts go unanswered.
It’s unlike her to disappear, especially after what just happened to Harrison.
I roll down the window, letting the breeze cool the sweat on my neck.
As my eyes fall to Vincent’s cap on the console, I notice something strange.
Next to the cap is Charlotte’s emerald-studded lighter, the one her mom gave her, which she never goes anywhere without.
Could she have left it by accident? I think back to the hug she gave me, too tight and desperate, and a low groan rips out of me.
I pull up the live Grandmaster map on the dashboard. Charlotte is logged in, her avatar racing across campus like a bat out of hell, far too fast to be on foot. I zoom out and see she’s headed toward the beach.
My hand stiffens on the thrust lever as I replay our conversation from yesterday: how she said she was done waiting for someone to save her, that she had to save herself, and that if it all went to hell, she’d find a way to take the spider down with her.
I don’t want to accept what these words might mean, but I still punch Rosamund’s name into the map. Her avatar appears on the beach.
That’s when I know.
I slam my foot down hard enough to rock the frame.
The hovercar surges left into an aerial lane, taking the fastest route to the beach.
A Copper cruiser jolts to life at the curb behind me, its siren howling, but I only drive faster.
I blow through a red light, forcing a passing hovercar to veer off course, its horn shrieking in protest. My civil credits are ticking down like water swirling down a drain, but I barely spare the counter a glance.
The Copper tailing me is caught at the red light, swallowed by a cross-stream of traffic.
I check the Grandmaster map for Edmund, Jack, and Dickie—hoping they’re at the beach, hoping they see Charlotte first and stop her—but all three are logged out.
Hold on, Char. Please. I’m coming.
Minutes later, I reach the beach, kicking up a cloud of sand as I slam the hovercar to a stop at the curb.
The crowd on the shore is a motionless line of bodies, all facing the energy shield, where hundreds of AI patrol jets swarm the edge like a pale shroud, ready to open fire if the Rangers launch another attack strong enough to breach it.
The jets’ engines roar until students clap their hands over their ears.
As I sprint across the sand, I use the binocular feature on my Bond to scan for Charlotte.
I spot her near the water, walking toward Rosamund with a tall, steady stride.
Rosamund and the group of Blues she’s with are still in their Fraternity uniforms, staring at the shield with wide-eyed reverence, as if realizing the value of a bulletproof vest they once took for granted.
Charlotte calls out something I can’t hear over the patrol jets, but it makes Rosamund turn.
Her hair is matted, her face streaked with blood and dust, and for a moment she looks startled.
Then, slowly, a faint, creeping smile spreads across her face, and she holds out her Blood Ring toward Charlotte.
“No,” I choke, pushing through the sand that drags at my ankles. “Please, no.”
Charlotte accepts the scan and yanks her saber free in a quick, awkward motion.
Heads turn as students notice the death duel.
Dozens of them move closer, whistling and cheering as they form a ring around Charlotte and Rosamund.
A moment passes before Rosamund draws her saber, gleaming poison-bright in the sun.
I push myself faster, my lungs burning as I reach the crowd. Sand grinds under my boots as I shove my way to the front, just in time to see Charlotte raise her saber and swing it at Rosamund’s with a burst of sparks.
“Char, no!” I cry.
Charlotte meets my gaze, the blade casting light across her face. Her grip is firm, though her brows knit in a way that suggests regret, as if she’s asking me to forgive her, because she never meant for me to watch her die.