Chapter 21 #2
President Graves paces to the front of the raised platform, staring pensively at the powder-blue curtain. I inch closer to
him, trying to see what he sees. The future? America, in the palm of his hand? The end of the world?
“Do you remember Evan Nabler?” Graves asks.
I just see a moth-bitten curtain. “No.”
I didn’t think I could hate him more. It doesn’t matter that he threatened me. But the thought of losing Hux hollows me out
completely, and it’s everything I can do to stand upright.
“He was a local bully when you kids were little. Pushed you down and stole your lunch one day. Ring a bell?”
It does, and I give a curt nod. I was no older than five, so the memory is fuzzy.
“You came home crying. Your parents were at work. You walked over to our house. Nina got you a Popsicle. Do you remember what
I told you?”
I blink through tears as the memory plays in the back of my mind. It hurts to remember now. “You told me I was strong and
capable. That I had the whole world ahead of me, and people like Evan wouldn’t get far. You told me,” I swallow hard, taking
a beat so I won’t cry. “You told me I could be anything I wanted to be.”
We both look straight ahead, and President Graves nods.
Then he leans closer to me. “Now, you’re going to be what I tell you to be. You made yourself a hero by saving my son? Now
you’re my hero. You’re going to forget that boy down there and how you feel about him. Because I know you feel something for him. You’re
going to marry Callum, you’re going to smile when I say. Or I will do what I should have done years ago. Understand?”
I don’t move. I don’t know what to say. Everything has fallen apart.
Callum appears behind me then, a hand light on my spine. When I turn to stare, he captures my hand and kisses me as he always
does: over the ring he gave me. Reassuring himself that I belong to him. Suddenly, it makes my skin crawl. “Father,” he says,
without taking his eyes off me, “we’re almost ready.”
I can’t breathe. I don’t know what Hux and Callum talked about, but Callum seems different. I want to meet his eyes, but he
won’t meet mine.
President Graves nods, stepping up and to the middle. Callum stands opposite me. “Alba is tallying the ballots. But it’s just
a formality. When the curtains open, you’ll be . . .”
Dictator for life, I almost whisper.
“Yes,” President Graves jokes, as if intentionally misreading my expression. “It’s very theatrical, isn’t it.”
Outside the curtain, the voices seem to ebb. The lights hum.
“But real quick, Dad,” Callum starts. Dad. He never calls him dad. Callum hasn’t said that since Graves became president. “Why did you try to have Ripley and me killed
in the motorcade explosion? Didn’t have the balls to do it yourself?”
I whip my head to Callum. What? I clutch at his chest to stay upright.
President Graves rounds on Callum, his eyes wide, and rips me from him, so there’s nothing between him and his son. “Is that what that traitor told you?” He laughs hollowly. “You’re believing a terrorist?”
Callum slips his pocket tablet out and thrusts the display under his father’s nose. “No. I’m not believing anyone but myself.
Turns out, that security breach that exposed Hux as a Mach also exposed . . . you.” Callum’s tone is icy, his shoulders back.
I’ve never seen this version of him.
This is what Hux was working on. He may have exposed all of the Machs, he may have lost all their servers. But he erased all
the footage of me, and he found the one piece of evidence we needed. Hux may have set the bomb, but the president detonated
it.
Callum’s dad.
His own dad tried to kill him. And me.
President Graves is still for half a second before stepping forward, reaching out, and snatching the golden button from Callum’s
shirt—the camera that he always wears. He grinds it under his heel as he steps forward. His shocked facade falls away as his
composure melts.
He’s pure rage, and little else.
“You want to know why I tried to kill you and this little bitch?” He points to me, and I don’t even flinch. Instead, I stay
very still.
“I’ll tell you why. You want to save the world?
There’s no world to save. Not anymore. There’s no turning this ship around, you pathetic child.
It has sailed. And we only have room for the people at the top.
We will tell these people what to think.
How to live. And they’ll thank us for it because they are sheep.
” He steps closer to Callum, who, despite his best efforts, does look a little rattled at the sight of his father unhinging
right before his eyes.
“And that includes you, you ungrateful little shit. I saved you. You too,” Graves hisses, pointing at me. “But you think you’re too good for it. Just like your parents. Just like every other idiotic
citizen in this country of fat, stupid, lazy, worthless creatures.”
President Graves stands back, breathing hard through clenched teeth. “I could have made you a princess, Ripley. And instead
you decided to actually care about them. And that’s when I knew you both had to be eliminated.”
Callum tries to stop his chin from trembling, but it does. For a second, just half a second, I feel sorry for him. He was
the boy who loved his father. I just watched his heart break in real time.
“I can’t believe I thought you’d be a good leader,” Callum whispers.
President Graves makes a fake sad face. “And what are you going to do about it? I know you’re a little freak who loves to
record everything.” He shows the crushed golden fragments on the ground. “You got nothing.”
“Hm. I wouldn’t say nothing.” A sly voice cuts through the theater.
And there, stage left, is Hux.
He’s alive.
Becka saunters over and stands next to Hux.
My heart skips a beat at the sight of him—of them—standing there before an empty theater.
President Graves rolls his eyes. “Is this supposed to be a thing? Your big move? Three people heard me. Wow.”
Hux cocks his head at me, and I can’t help but grin as his bloody lips stretch in a knowing grin. “Ripley?”
I uncurl my fingers. Because inside of my hand is the golden button.
The president didn’t rip it from Callum’s chest, because I’d already switched it. With the poker chip. The stomping probably
crushed the little pincers that held it to Callum’s chest, but they held, as long as they needed to.
Hux lifts a phone, hitting Play.
Fat stupid lazy worthless creatures—
Fat, stupid, lazy, worthless,
Only have room for people at the top.
Sheep.
It blasts out at full volume into the theater, for the entire assembly of senators and wealthy elite. Becka holds up her phone.
“Oh,” she says sweetly. “They’ve autotuned it.” Sheep, the president’s garbled voice comes out. Sheep. Sheep. “Catchy.”
As Becka bops her head, President Graves seems to turn to a statue. His eyes find mine, and I can feel the sheer hatred rolling
off of him in waves.
“You,” President Graves says. I lift my chin as I stare at him. Me. And he’s not wrong. Pride swells in my lungs. Damn right, me.
“Like you said, President Graves,” I say. “You should have thought of the optics.”
With a quick movement, faster than seems possible, he reaches in his coat and pulls out a blade. With one powerful lunge,
he comes at me, the dagger poised above his head, catching the red, white, and blue stage lights.
“Ripley!” Hux shouts, his voice cracking with fear. His eyes are feral as he lunges forward.
I stumble back, as Graves freezes, knife still raised high. His chest shudders with a gasp as his eyes widen in shock. He
stumbles, and I jump back as he falls forward to his knees, and then crashes down, rolling off the dais and landing on the
stage below.
And then his chest doesn’t move again.
“Hux?” I whisper. “What did you do?”