Ian’s right about me. I don’t run away, even when I probably should. I rush headlong into danger if I think by doing so I can protect those I love. I operate on instinct—courageous stupidity, Ian called it—but instinct and courage might not be enough this time. Especially when I’m in no shape to win a fight. Or to run away if I start to lose. Since fighting and running are the two mainstays of any plan I’ve ever made, I’m going to have to think like someone else. Someone who can still see scenarios when none exist and who can grab small opportunities and leverage them into huge wins.

I’m going to have to think like Logan.

“You look awful, by the way.” Ian’s voice is casual. “You’re dirty, your hair is an absolute mess, and I’m pretty sure if you don’t get some medicine for that nasty wound on your arm, it’s going to get infected. We wouldn’t want that.” The sly malevolence in his gaze sets my teeth on edge.

“Going to be hard to convince Logan to give you what you want if I die before we reach Rowansmark,” I say, as if I don’t already know that Ian has no intention of letting me make it that far. Not if he gets a chance to come after me when Samuel is distracted elsewhere.

“Why do you even want to live?” he asks. There’s a desperate curiosity in his voice. “Your family is dead. Your city is gone. Most of your friends are gone too. And you’re to blame. You, Logan, and the Commander. Don’t you want to just close your eyes and never wake up?”

I wrap my arms around my stomach as if the broken pieces inside of me might pierce my skin and fly away, but I know Ian isn’t really asking why I want to live. He’s looking for a reason of his own to keep going.

I don’t want to give him one.

But Logan would. Logan would see this as an opportunity to soften his opponent. To gain a foothold. I’m not sure there’s a foothold left to be found in Ian’s madness, but Samuel’s words still echo in my head, and I can’t look at Ian the monster without also seeing Ian the boy with broken dreams.

“I have to believe that there are people still worth living for. That I’m worth living for,” I say, remembering Oliver’s words to me as we traveled to the Commander’s compound for the reading of Dad’s will. “Hope is precious, and it’s worth clinging to.”

“Even when it looks like there’s nothing left to hope for?” His eyes are full of misery.

“There’s always something left. There are second, third, and fourth chances. There are new friends.” I think of Quinn, stoically dedicated to helping me heal, even when it meant stripping his own secrets bare. Willow, unafraid to tell me the truth no one else wanted to say. Frankie admitting he was wrong about Tree People. Thom taking Logan’s place on the bridge. And then I think of Logan. Of the way he used to look at me when he thought Dad wasn’t watching us. Of the way he looks at me now. “And there are old friends we’ve underestimated. There’s a legacy of love in our lives that gives us value, even after we’ve made mistakes.”

He stares at me for a long moment, his face pale and tense. “I don’t think hope keeps you alive at all. I think you’re still here because you’re too stubborn to die.” His long, pale fingers grip the rope and pull on it again. “I actually like that about you.”

“I don’t care what you like about me.”

“You never care what anyone thinks of you. You never care what others think you should do.” His fingers clench the rope with sudden force. “Even when it costs you. Even when it costs them.”

The memory of Melkin’s dark eyes pleading with me while his blood spilled over my hands cuts into me, and it’s difficult to breathe.

“What did I cost you, Ian?” I ask, Samuel’s words burning against the back of my mind. I don’t want to think about Ian, broken and lost, trying to find a way to still see some of his dreams come true even if it takes more than his spirit can bear to pay. “What did I do to you that is worth going through so much trouble to hurt me?”

“You didn’t keep your promise.” He sounds hurt. As if he has a right to be hurt when he’d already murdered eight children and destroyed our entire city-state before I ever said I’d get the device from Logan and give it to Ian to use against the Commander.

I stare at the pain in his eyes and realize he truly believes he’s the one who’s been wronged. And maybe in the beginning that was true, but Ian’s done too much between then and now to pretend his hands are clean. Maybe he isn’t pretending. Maybe he believes what he needs to believe in order to keep what little sanity he has left.

“Think about what you’re saying.” I make an effort to keep my voice calm, but I can’t quite keep the anger out of it. This is the boy who killed Sylph. Having a civil conversation with him feels like a betrayal of her. “You asked me to get the device while we were running for our lives from the Carrington army, and I was trying to get to my best friend, who was dying because of you.”

“No, she was dying because Logan didn’t—”

“She died because of you and your stupid pain atonement vendetta! Because you assumed Logan was loyal to the Commander. Because you assumed he knew about his background.” My voice rises, and I clench my fists as grief and anger churn inside of me. My wounded arm aches, but I ignore it. “And because you couldn’t be bothered to confront Logan at the start and clear the air, my city burned and thousands died. Sylph died.”