“So the EMP was an inside job,” I breathe. “We were attacked by our own people.”
“Very good, Cassidy,” Harry applauds. “Omega’s had its sticky little fingers in every level of society for centuries. Our time has finally come. We’ve rallied our forces. This is the end of the world for you — and the beginning of the world for us.”
I look at Chris. He has not moved, but I can tell by the look in his eyes that he is stricken. It makes sense to him, as well. And all this time we had hoped that Omega was purely a coalition of foreign enemies… we had lied to ourselves, told ourselves that Omega was not something that arose from among us.
We were wrong. We knew it.
And now Harry is confirming it.
There is a noise behind me. I whirl around, instincts still sharp even in the midst of shock. Sophia! I breathe a sigh of relief.
“Thank God,” I say. “What happened?”
Sophia looks horrified. She has no weapon in her hand. It’s gone. A bit of wiring is sticking out of her pocket. She looks at Harry. He looks at her. She skirts around the edge of our group.
“Sophia?” I whisper.
“Sometimes your greatest friend can be your greatest enemy,” Harry purrs, looking directly at me. I stare at him. And then what he’s saying hits home, and for the first time in hours… I lower my rifle.
“Sophia,” I say. This time it is not a question. It is a demand.
She takes a few steps backward, tears shining in her eyes. She is trembling, standing a few yards away from Harry.
“I’m sorry,” she says quietly. “Harry makes so much sense.”
“You… you sold out?”
She says nothing.
It all dawns on me. In an instant, everything makes sense.
“The laser designator in Sacramento,” I say. “That was you.”
She looks at me with baleful, hollow eyes.
“The assassinations,” I reply. “You helped coordinate those, too. The poison. And you gave my location to Omega when I was on the Golden Shark.”
She denies nothing.
A deep feeling of crushing hurt comes down on me. It is overwhelming. I kneel down, my head in my hands. Even Chris looks horrified. Vera is staring. Andrew is frozen.
“A lot of good people died because of what you did,” Manny says. His voice is not remotely playful or sarcastic. It is feral, angry. “You’re a traitorous dog. You’ll hang for this.”
“Hang is not the right word,” Andrew snaps. “I can think of a few other ways to get rid of spineless garbage like this.”
“Spare me the theatrics,” Harry drawls. “That’s my talent, not yours.”
And then Sophia pulls a handgun out of the inside pocket of her jacket and fires off a round. It hits Andrew. He stumbles backward, slamming into Vera. Vera screams and catches him as he falls. I instinctively fire, nailing Sophia in the shoulder. She stumbles. I tuck my head, ramming the entire blunt force of my body into Sophia.
I collide with her and we both tumble to the ground.
Pure, unbridled fury takes control of my mind. All of the frustration, the stress and the horror of the past weeks combine to create the perfect storm. I pin Sophia down with my legs, throwing my fist into her face. She blocks me, throws me off. Sophia is every bit of a fighter as I am.
I kick her ankles and she tumbles to the ground just as she makes a move to run. She claws at my eyes. I jam the heel of my boot into the side of her face with all the power I can muster. Her head smacks against the pavement. She screams with pain. Blood runs from the side of her mouth.
“How could you do this?” I demand. “What’s wrong with you?”
She blocks my fist, twists my arm around. I yell, pained, and shove my knee into her groin. I hear something crack and she lets go, grimacing and groaning. I grab her neck and slam her down on her back, my knee on her chest. I punch her again, holding back nothing. Her face is a bloody, misshapen mess. I am shaking, tears are running down my face.
Betrayed. Betrayed. Betrayed.
I have been betrayed by my best friend.
“How could you do this?” I yell again.
And then Chris is grabbing me, hauling me away from Sophia. I fight him, pushing away, screaming at him.
“CASSIDY, STOP!” Chris bellows. He takes me by the shoulders and shakes me. “You’ll never forgive yourself if you kill Sophia.”
That last sentence is quiet. Low.
I blink a few times, cold acceptance creeping into my chest. I nod weakly.
I look at Sophia. She’s lying on the ground, rivers of blood dripping down her neck, pooling on the ground. She’s staring at the sky, crying. Uriah has an arm around Harry’s waist and a knife at his throat. Vera is screaming Andrew’s name, kneeling at his unmoving form on the roof. Manny’s face is sorrowful.
“You can let go,” I whisper. “I’m okay now.”
Such a lie. But Chris understands what I mean.
He lets go. I turn and sink to my knees near Sophia’s head. She opens her mouth, coughing. She chokes for a moment, moving her eyes toward me. “You’ve…” she says, taking a deep, labored breath. “The roof is rigged… to blow. You’ve got to… leave.” Tears fall from her eyes, streaming down her cheeks, mingling with her blood. “I’m… sorry… Cassie.”
I start sobbing.
Nothing can fix this. Ever.
“We’ve got to go,” Chris says, touching my shoulder. “She’s right. This whole place is wired with explosives.”
I shake my head. So. Harry planned to lure us all here and kill us in a suicidal blaze of glory. How poetic. How… utterly Harry Lydell.
I touch Sophia’s shoulder.
My anger is gone. All that is left is empty, throbbing pain.
“I forgive you,” I say.
Sophia stares at me, but she is too beaten to speak. I stand up, looking at her still body. I remember a girl who took my hand in the back of a semi-truck stuffed with human cattle. I remember a girl who constantly reminded me that we were going to be okay, that we were going to survive, and that Omega would fall. Victory would be ours. We were friends forever, she said.
Now, when I see Sophia, I see the broken shell of that same girl.
“I loved you,” I whisper. “We were sisters.”
I turn away. I know that I cannot help her. I cannot rescue her.
This truth breaks my heart.
I turn to Chris. “Keep Harry alive,” I say. “Death is too good for him.”
I will not give him what he wants. Chris doesn’t argue. He takes Uriah’s place as Harry’s bodyguard. Uriah kneels next to Andrew. Vera is hysterical, crying great, heaving sobs.
“He’s still alive,” Uriah says. “But it’s going to be hard to move him.”
“I don’t care!” Vera cries. “Please! We have to try!”
“I’ll help,” I volunteer.
Vera doesn’t make a snide comment. She simply nods, grateful.
“Take care of Harry,” I tell Chris.
He does. He shoves the muzzle of his gun into Harry’s back. I notice how silent Harry is. How pale. How frustrated he seems. I don’t waste a second glance on him as Chris pushes Harry down the stairs, into the hallways of the building.
I help Manny, Vera and Uriah haul Andrew’s body up and off the roof. He is heavy, full of dead weight. Uriah slings Andrew’s gun across his back. Vera and Uriah are the first ones out the door.
I look back at the roof.
Sophia is still looking at the stars. She weakly raises her hand and crosses herself, turning her head every so slightly. Her gaze meets mine.
Goodbye, friend, she says with her eyes.
Goodbye, Sophia, I think. You were there for me, once. When I needed you.