I had to think about that. John Dekker had been responsible for dozens of teenagers losing their souls, and he’d worked to keep Addy and Regan from reclaiming theirs. Did he deserve any less than eternal torture?

Probably not. But that wasn’t my call to make. The very thought of wielding so much power terrified me.

Though, it didn’t seem to have bothered Tod.

“I can’t believe you did that….”

“And yet you haven’t asked me to bring him back.” He ran one hand through his hair. “I think you have no trouble believing it. I think you wish you’d done it yourself.”

“No.” I shook my head, bothered by the spark of anger raging unchecked inside him. Was this why my father didn’t want me hanging out with a reaper? Because, as he’d always insisted, Tod was dangerous?

I shook that thought off. It was too much to think about with Addy not yet in the ground, and my failure on her behalf haunting me. I took Nash’s hand again and shoved the clipping deep into my pocket. “I have to go,” I said, already turning toward my dad’s car.

“Kaylee, just say it,” Tod called after me, and I was glad no one else could hear him. Not even Nash, this time. I could tell from the relief on his face—he was happy to be walking away from his brother. “Say the word, and I’ll bring him back. I’ll rescue him from never-ending torture. It’s your call….”

Hot, bitter tears filled my eyes, as horror filled my heart. It wasn’t my call. He couldn’t put a decision like that on me. It wasn’t right.

Yet as I headed toward my father with my boyfriend at my side, my lips remained sealed, and I was more terrified than I could express by the thought of what my silence probably said about me, deep down inside.

My dad started his engine, and Nash kissed me gently before I sank into the front passenger seat. Then I tucked my skirt beneath me and he closed the car door. I put John Dekker and Tod out of my mind. Forced them to the back of my brain to make room for Nash.

I would only think about Nash. I trusted Nash. I loved him. I understood him, like I would never understand his brother.

Nash waved at me in the side-view mirror as our car pulled forward slowly, my father carefully avoiding stray members of the press. I leaned with my head against the cold window, watching as his image grew smaller and smaller in the mirror. Trying not to think about how long it would be before we could be alone together again.

Three weeks, five days, and four hours until my grounding ends.

Three weeks, five days, four hours, and fifty-four seconds. Fifty-three seconds…Fifty-two seconds…

But who’s counting?