One voice, one memory fights to the surface.

The night I was in the water, when I was Rebecca—the face I saw above me, just past the icy surface.

It was her.

How many times has this face been my last sight?

My concentration wavers. She’s killed me before—she’s going to do it again.

No.

I won’t drown; I won’t die. Not this time.

Power surges within me, filling my body to bursting and creating a noise in my head so loud I’m sure I’ll be deaf if I survive this.

If.

I don’t even care.

More rage, more white-hot heat, more molten anguish pours from me. I can’t see anything as the fullness begins to ebb, leaving me completely bereft of energy. I teeter, not certain I can stand any longer. Rain falls in soft rivulets down my face, but it feels almost warm.

“Tavia, come on!”

Elizabeth’s voice, her hands, dragging me. I can’t see and stumble as I try to follow her, running blindly, steered only by Elizabeth’s hand clenched around my arm. The sound of a car door, a shove that sends me down onto a seat.

I blink and stars swim in front of my eyes. My head lolls to the side as Elizabeth drops into the seat beside me. Thank gods the car wasn’t crushed by my mountain. I’ve just made a hell of a lot of trouble as it is.

And I’m not even sure just what I did.

I look out at what’s left of the forest, and an enormous pile of rubble, silhouetted by the glow of molten rock, stares back. Every kind of matter I can imagine is in a smoldering heap where Marie was standing, barely visible through the trees.

It won’t last long; she’s too good. It’s already blinking away, bit by bit, as though I never made it at all. As nonexistent as the mountain that once was. People are running toward us. I recognize one as the guy who dragged Benson off. They’ve almost reached the car.

The engine roars and Elizabeth peels out backward, smacking a tree, the crunch of the bumper a macabre harmony with the squealing tires.

Dark shapes whirl around us and I feel the dull thud of flesh on metal at the back of Elizabeth’s car. I try not to think too hard about that as my throat convulses. But Elizabeth is already throwing the car into drive, lurching forward, gaining speed.

I don’t look back; I don’t want to see anything else. I already have the sight of Sammi and Mark’s decimated bodies to haunt my dreams.

And Benson’s betrayal.

I can’t even think of him without a vile sickness clutching at my stomach.

Desperate to distract myself, I click my seat belt just before Elizabeth almost dumps me into her lap turning a sharp corner.

“There’s no time to get to the plane—assuming the Reduciata haven’t taken control of it already,” Elizabeth shouts, forcing me to pay attention. “I’m going to drop you off at an alley two blocks south of the Greyhound station,” she continues, her eyes glued to the road. “Take this.”

My fingers wrap around the cell phone she proffers even as she spins the car around another bend. As soon as I’ve taken the phone, her burned hands are back on the wheel, and as we pass under a streetlight, the steering wheel glints wet.

Blood.

I remember her falling against the charred car—the scream she let out.

This drive must be killing her hands.

“Get on a bus—the next bus,” Elizabeth orders, her eyes still fixed on the road. “It doesn’t matter where it’s going. Just get on it no matter what it takes. Understand?”

“Yeah,” I say weakly, bracing my arms against the door for another squealing corner.

Another flash of light; her hands are red and seeping.

“Elizabeth, your hands—”

“Will heal,” she says through gritted teeth. “I’ll call you when it’s safe. I don’t know when that will be. Don’t you call anyone. Especially Benson. You have to accept it; you can never have any contact with him ever again.”

Benson. I nod, hating the truth of it. It’s worse than him being dead. It might be worse than me being dead. Elizabeth hits a curb, throwing my head against the window. Distantly I feel pain, but it doesn’t seem to matter anymore.

“Open my purse,” Elizabeth instructs. I look around at my feet and find the black bag that’s tumbling around. “Take my wallet.”

“But I have—”

“Take it, Tave!” she orders.

I unzip the leather bag and fumble around for the wallet, transferring it into my backpack.

“There’s some food—it’s not much, but you’ll need it.”

I sift around and find part of a candy bar and a large package of trail mix. Gratefully, I slide the trail mix into my backpack and stuff the entire piece of candy bar into my mouth to fight off the blackness that’s trying to close in around the edges of my sight.

Seconds of silence pass as my mind tries to take in what just happened.

As soon as I choke down the candy, I blurt, “I beat her.” They beat her. This time.

“Yes, you did.” Her words hold a softness and I hear thank you in them.

But it feels empty. I didn’t save Sammi and Mark.

I saved Benson instead.

And he betrayed me.

Elizabeth spares me a glance as she continues to drive erratically. “You did good.”

Not good enough. Marie’s still out there. She’s probably not even hurt. I got away, but I didn’t actually stop her.

“Quinn was there. I saw him,” I say, trying to push away my despair at still being on the run from this woman.