Chapter 22
The president is dead, blood pooling across the presidential seal. Callum drops the blade from his hand. The same blade held
to Hux’s throat, the one I dropped on the floor just minutes ago.
“You?” I breathe. He looks up, his hands shaking as he swallows hard.
“I-I couldn’t let him,” he says, staring down at his father’s body.
Suddenly, lights overhead burst into life, and the curtain gives a resolute jerk.
The vote. They’re opening the curtain to reveal the “results” of the vote.
“What do we do?” Callum whispers, looking to me, and then to Hux and Becka.
Outside, cheers break out, even as the puddle of blood seeps closer to the edge of the curtain.
“We tell the truth,” I say slowly, motioning to Hux, who nods before taking his place at my side.
Becka moves to the other side of Callum.
The curtains sweep back, and someone screams. A sea of faces, anonymous as the stage lights burn into my eyes, but the fear comes off of them in waves.
They thought they would see America’s future, and instead they’re staring at four teens and a dead man.
Blood drips off the edge of the stage down onto the front row.
Okay, so we’re probably going to prison.
But maybe—maybe not. After all, I can write the ending of this story.
I reach for Hux’s hand, and he locks his fingers in mine as we stare down at the crowd, lights blinding us. But, perhaps without
realizing what’s happening with my right hand, Callum reaches for my left, for the hand with that ring, and once again presses
a kiss to my knuckles. To the ring that I still choose to wear.
From the back of the theater, a catchy tune plays:
There’s no turning this ship around, you pathetic child. It has sailed. And we only have room for the people at the top.
“Excuse me?” I call, shielding my eyes. “Can we get these lights? I can’t—I can’t see—”
The house lights creep on, as if just as nervous about this as I am, and as the bright white in my face fades, I can make
out each and every horrified expression.
Finally, a senator stands up. She walks to the front of the theater, her blue dress swishing softly as she moves. She clears her throat and turns to face the crowd.
“The vote has passed. Graves is president for life. Long live the president.”
My stomach churns, and my eyes find the body at the edge of the stage.
But the senator holds up a gloved finger. “And upon the death of the life president”—she turns to look up at Callum—“the president’s
heir shall become president.”
Everything around us falls silent as the crowd considers.
I turn to Callum, his bloody hand pressed to mine. I can feel the redness seeping into my very fingerprints. His eyes find
mine in the bright light.
“Ripley,” he whispers, uncertain.
My mind is racing.
Callum, president for life.
“Callum must accept,” another senator calls out.
“What should I do?” Callum whispers out the side of his mouth.
The vote has passed. If he doesn’t take the presidency, someone else will. Someone who doesn’t ever have to give it up. We
can’t take that back.
“The devil we know,” I whisper, looking to Hux.
“Hart,” Hux warns, but I shoot him a look.
“Got a better idea?”
Hux’s mouth opens and closes—
Callum looks at me, and then to Hux. Something settles over him, then. A decision.
“I accept,” he says.
“What? Louder, boy!” the senator gripes.
“I accept,” Callum bellows. He looks at me, a question burning in his eyes. He just became the most powerful man in the world,
but he looks helpless as he stares at me.
And holds out his hand—a question.
“Then we have it!” the senator yells. “All hail President Callum!”
I drop Hux’s hand, a realization seeping into my bones. I don’t look back at Hux as I pull Callum in for a kiss. The crowd
gasps, then breaks into titters. No respect for the dead man. This is all a show to them. And I’ll give them a hell of an
ending.
I let Callum kiss me as blood seeps across the floor and echoes ring out around us.
“All hail First Lady Ripley!”
“Does this mean you forgive me?” Callum whispers as he draws me into a hug.
Over his shoulder, I meet Hux’s eyes. “I love you. Love doesn’t just go away,” I whisper back. I hate that part of that is
true. I can’t just carve him out of me completely—either of them.
Callum hums into my hair, and Hux’s eyes darken. He nods. It’s shallow, but I see it. “We can fix the world,” Callum is murmuring, his voice high and fast, like it used to be when we were kids. The hand cradling the back of my head is damp with his father’s blood. “And one day, I’ll fix us.”
I keep my eyes on Hux as he disappears into the wings, where I imagine him waiting in the shadows, even as Callum and I kiss
again for the crowd. With a dramatic flurry, the curtain closes, velvet tassels sweeping the blood of the dead president across
the stage, but I’ve heard that’s easy enough to remove with the right filter.