Styles and Echoes shove Tristin and me into our cell and strap us in. Styles’s lips graze my ear. “Looks like it’s finally the end of the line for you, pretty. Shame we never got the chance to get better acquainted.”
The doors clang shut and the entire cell begins to rise up the dark shaft. I crane my neck. Above, there’s a light shining in the distance, growing brighter and brighter.
I turn to Tristin. She’s sobbing quietly. I wish I could reach out to touch her hand. “It’s okay. You’re going to be fine. Promise me you’ll help the others get the hell away from this place.”
She squeezes my fingers. “Don’t worry. We’re going to stop them from doing this to anyone else. I promise.”
We share a smile as the grinding gears reach their apex. Light floods into the cell as it lurches to a halt.
We’re here.
Just outside our cell, the backrests on the silver slabs rise, elevating the Recruits, including Crowley, to a sitting position. They all look haggard, exhausted. Cage is pale as snow, his lips torn from where he bit into them. A thin red stream flows from them, glistening as it trickles down onto the bobbing nub of his throat.
All my struggles—the separation from Cole, losing Digory and then finding out that he was using me, my vigilante attacks against the Establishment, my involvement with the rebels—every struggle and setback now comes down to this one last moment.
The moment of my death.
Recruit Cage. You must now make your choice.
Cage opens his eyes. They glisten with moisture as he stares at us long and hard. “I wish it didn’t have to be like this. But I can only make one choice,” he says.
I nod. “It’s okay.” I almost break out into a chuckle. Nothing has ever been so not okay in my whole life. “Do what needs to be done, Cage.”
“I swear it, mate.”
Your time has expired. Make your selection now.
His eyes fix on me. “I choose…” His voice chokes. “I choose Lucian Spark.”
I hear my name as if from the fragments of a dream. Everything feels so disconnected, as if I’m no longer in my own body, but a puff of vapor caught in a swirling eddy that’s slowly tearing me apart until everything that’s me will fade into nothingness.
The metal grapplers around my arms and legs screech to life, tugging my arms until they’re opened wide and my legs are spread-eagled. I look up, staring at the gleaming hydraulic cables coiled like a beast poised to spring at any moment. Drops of oil trickle from the mechanism like dark blood, mixing with my sweat as it oozes down my neck, over my heaving chest.
They’re going to rip me apart like a rag doll, tear me limb from limb while the others watch me bleed out right before their eyes.
I struggle against the clamps holding me in place, but it’s no use. Every second is an excruciating blur, waiting, wondering when it’s going to happen, what it’ll feel like when my tendons and ligaments snap like rubber bands, when my muscles are torn to tattered shreds, when my bones pop free from their sockets, gouging out chunks of flesh…
I’m so sorry I failed you Cole.
I look up and face my unseen audience. “Do it!” The words singe my throat.
The hydraulics rattle. My limbs grow taught as the tension in my restraints builds… any moment now…
The hydraulics whine to a halt.
The pressure in my joints relaxes as the restraints go slack.
Why are the lights going dim? What’s happening?
A crazed thought boomerangs through my brain. Am I already dead?
With a crackle, the speakers come to life once more.
We regret to inform you that Recruit Crowley has succumbed to his injuries. It would appear that the sensory overload of this last trial has proven too much of a challenge to his weakened system, and he has expired.
Crowley dead? Of course he is. And I did it. I pushed him over the edge because of my own selfishness. And it was all for nothing.
“Not Crowley, too.” Drusilla whispers. Boaz looks stunned. Cage buries his face in his hands.
Of course. Before any of this, Crowley was their friend, their comrade. They were going to change the world together, make it a better place—until I came along.
“It’s not your fault,” Tristin whispers.
But I won’t look at her—can’t look at her. At anyone. Why couldn’t the Establishment have killed me before making this announcement?
Because it’s all about making us suffer to the bitter end. My body tenses.
And because—
As Recruit Crowley’s participation in these Trials has been concluded, his one remaining Incentive shall now be shelved alongside Lucian Spark.
They’re going to murder Dahlia, too.
In seconds, Tristin is released from her confines beside mine and hustled out of view. She’s screaming and turning, trying to get a look at me before she disappears.
The next few minutes are the longest, as Dahlia is brought in to take Tristin’s place. The sound of each of her restraints being clamped into place shatters through the fog in my brain.
“Dahlia. I didn’t mean for it to be like this… I tried so hard…” My voice breaks off. Going to my grave with two more deaths burdening my conscience is too much. It’s overload.
She shakes her head. “And just when I thought I might want to live again.” She smiles, but her face contorts as she chokes back tears. “Don’t blame yourself, Spark. You’ve done so much for everyone. So much for me. My mother loved you very much. I guess I started resenting you when I was taken away from her. You had something so precious, time with her that I only dreamed of having. I’m sorry.”
“This one’s ready!” Styles barks. He turns and gives us a smirk before slinking out of the chamber after the other Imposers.
Leaving Dahlia and me alone… for the last time.
“Just think of your mother,” I say to her.
She lowers her voice to a whisper. “My jealousy of you wasn’t why I shunned my mother after the Trials. I didn’t want her to go to Haven like the other surviving Incentives.” She fights a sob. “It’s not the paradise that everyone’s been led to believe. It’s—”
The hydraulics grind to life again.
“—Must stop this at once!” a familiar voice commands, out of my field of vision.
Cassius has left the control room he’s been hiding in and is here in the flesh, barreling in with a squadron of Imposers that includes Valerian and Sergeant Slade. His cloak whips behind him as he pushes his way toward us.
When our eyes meet, his face flinches for a moment, but he turns to address the nearest soldier, jabbing a finger in our direction. “We cannot shelve them before we extract useful information from them. Get them down at once!”
“Yes, Sir!” the officer responds, nearly toppling over his companion as they come forward to unlock Dahlia and me from our bonds.
We exchange confused looks as we’re released and dragged down to join the other Incentives. This time, Cassius doesn’t make any eye contact with me.
But Slade does. She reaches out a leather-gloved hand and grips my jaw, her cold fingers digging into my flesh. Stalactite eyes pierce right through me. “Don’t worry, Spark. This is only a brief reprieve. Once you’ve answered our questions, you’ll be shelved.” She leans in until our noses are practically touching. “As a matter of fact, I’ll be pulling the switch myself.”
She shoves me aside.
Styles comes bustling to the forefront with the rest of his squad. He salutes Cassius, Slade, and Valerian. “What’s going on, Sir?”