From her position across the street, Angie Catellini squinted at the Daybreakers as they tearfully lifted the blond girl’s body from the sidewalk and lay it onto a stretcher. Reverently, they smoothed her tangled hair and gently closed the lids of her vacant violet eyes. They touched the girl whom they believed to be their fallen Wild Power as if she was made of glass, her body easily shattered by the slightest jolt. On every level of consciousness, they were all consumed with grief.
For a moment, Angie envied the dead girl. It was a dangerous thought, but she couldn’t help it. There had been so many moments in her life when she’d thought she couldn’t bear the cacophony of voices in her head any longer. Kneeling on the floor, she would hold a wooden blade against her wrists as her useless tears dribbled down her cheeks. Scraping at the surface layers of her skin, she would try to imagine what it felt like to die, to be embraced by the silence, weightless and free. She might have succumbed to the pain and curiosity by now if it hadn’t been for one person.
Aiden St. Helen.
Angie could still remember the night he had first approached her, catching her off-guard as she finished slaughtering a family of tourists on Capitol Hill.
“Not bad,” he’d remarked as he stepped out of the shadows. His silvery eyes surveyed the bodies scattered on the ground. “That’s your third family tonight.”
“Fifth in the past two nights,” Angie had replied haughtily. Killing was the only thing that ever provided respite from the din in her mind—the constant roar of thoughts, memories, and emotions of every living thing on the earth.
“Ninth in the last four,” Aiden had returned. “Not to mention the number of families that your disciples have picked off.”
“You’ve been following me?” She’d lifted her chin defiantly. “Who the hell are you?”
The tall, lanky vampire moved closer to her until the inner workings of his soul were distinguishable from the background. Focusing on a single person normally took a great deal of effort and it eventually gave Angie a raging headache, but there was something about Aiden that actually soothed her. Where she usually felt chaos in others, in him there was compartmentalization. His conscious mind was perfectly clear and methodical, and more deeply divided from his subconscious than any she had ever seen.
“Your work is impressive,” he had continued, ignoring her questions. “But it’s also rather inefficient, don’t you think?”
Angie had crossed her arms over her chest as she flashed a smile at him. “You got a better idea?” She’d seen the answer in his mind already, but she wanted to hear him say it. It was a test of his honesty and audacity.
He answered her without hesitation. “Circle Daybreak has found the last Wild Power. Arrangements are being made to bring her here.” Then it had been his turn to smile, the slight upturned corner of his mouth standing in stark contrast to his cold gray eyes. “Think about it: with one bullet we can destroy the only hope the human race has. They’ll be eradicated from the face of the earth.”
Wordlessly, Angie had stared at him as the idea had taken hold of her.
All of the humans dead.
Billions of souls gone from this world.
Quiet, at long last.
By some miracle, she had managed to keep herself from weeping with relief. She’d known that such a display of emotion would repulse the icy vampire who was watching her so carefully. In a way, this was a test of his own. “You don’t need me for that,” she’d said as indifferently as possible. “You’re in Circle Daybreak.”
She had thrown that detail in his face, hoping to startle him, but Aiden’s expression hadn’t changed. For a moment, she’d wondered if he already knew about her telepathy, but then she realized that he simply didn’t care. He hadn’t believed that he had anything to hide from her or from himself.
And at that moment, at least, that had been true.
“I can kill the witch,” he’d agreed. “But when all of that is said and done, I want something more. Something you already have.”
“Washington, D.C.,” she’d murmured. She could taste his ambition, a sharp acidic flavor on her tongue.
He had nodded. “You have brought the Night World back to this city; you’ve wrenched it from Circle Daybreak’s grasp. Every day you gain more followers, more respect. But if we help each other, we will both end up with more power than we could have secured on our own.” Aiden had extended his hand to her. “Do we have a deal?”
Thinking back on it, Angie wished that she had walked away from him. She wished that she had stolen his plan and assassinated the Wild Power herself the very day that the witch arrived in D.C. It would have been worth the risk of Daybreak finding her at the airport and killing her on the spot.
Instead she had placed her faith in Aiden St. Helen. And in return for her stupidity, she had gotten nothing but failure after failure after failure.
The scene across the street blurred before her eyes. She blinked forcefully, but it did nothing to improve her sight. Her body was shaking from the sheer intensity of the din in her mind. If she wanted any chance of silencing it she needed to move, but Angie couldn’t stop staring at the dead girl—the vampire who wore the face of Aiden’s soulmate.
She had never seen her in the flesh before. Inside of Aiden’s mind, the girl had been radiant, almost ethereal. Looking at her now, Angie was incensed to find that Genevieve Harman was utterly unremarkable. Just a plain, shapeless body draped with limp, stick-straight hair.
How could such an ugly, vapid girl captivate and ultimately ruin someone like Aiden?
Feeling the anger swell inside her again, Angie forced herself to turn away from the dead vampire. Forced herself to laugh flippantly. She couldn’t afford to lose her temper now; that did nothing but make the din louder, and this wasn’t over yet.
The team in charge of transporting the Wild Power had pulled a clever trick, splitting the group up and using one of their own as a decoy, but working with Aiden had taught Angie how Daybreakers strategize, so she had anticipated their move. She knew that if she hurried to the evacuation tunnel, she would make it in time to intercept the real Wild Power. With less than half of the team guarding the witch, killing her would be a cakewalk.
Her head throbbing, Angie turned on her heel and headed down the street. But she hadn’t made it more than half a block when she ran into someone, knocking him over with the force of her momentum.
“Hey, watch it, you—” The man started to snap, but the words were lost as his jaw dropped open. “Angie?”
It took her a long moment to recognize the darkly handsome vampire who was still sitting on the ground. Those few seconds of anger had already taken their toll on her; her mind was too muddled.
Tristan Chaucer stood up, straightening his leather jacket indignantly. The sniper rifle he had used to kill “Genevieve Harman” was in a bag that was slung over his shoulder. “I did what you asked,” he told her. “I killed the witch.”
Angie smiled, slipping seamlessly into the role of the shallow, power-hungry slut that nearly everyone believed her to be. “Actually, if you weren’t so dense, you would have realized that the girl you killed was a Daybreaker who was made to look like the witch.”
The vampire paled. “Oh shit,” he said under his breath. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. Then he hastily held his hands up as Angie took a threatening step toward him. “Wait, wait. You said we had twenty-four hours. I can still do this. I still have time!”
She just laughed. “You know, I misjudged you. With your attitude, I thought you wouldn’t be able to resist going after the Daybreakers directly. Instead you climbed up to a rooftop, stole a gun from one of Daybreak’s own soldiers, and quietly took the witch out with a single shot to the heart.” She sighed dramatically. “What can I say, Chaucer? You’re smart. Prudent. And you’re a great sniper. But unfortunately snipers make lousy diversions, so I’m afraid that you’re really of no use to me any more.”
Realization dawned in the vampire’s dark eyes as Angie drew the gun that she kept strapped to the small of her back. The weapon was loaded with silver-tipped wooden bullets, capable of killing humans and Night People alike. Immortality meant so little in the face of technology.
“Shit,” Tristan whispered again.
Angie’s smile broadened as she fired at his head and watched his body crumple onto the ground. She felt an instant of silence in her mind as this vampire’s voice disappeared forever.
So sweet, so perfect.
The next moment the din rose again, as if it had never wavered. Pain sang through her body and her eyes stung with hot tears. She blinked them away and broke into a run again.
She had to make it.
This had to end.
Because what was left for them to say?
Just give me something to go on, a scrap of yourself. I’m not asking for a lot.
God, he could never understand. Anything Lex told him would only lead to more questions. There were no scraps when it came to her life; it was all or nothing. And if she gave him all of it, she was certain that he would leave her. With nothing.
But hadn’t he done that anyway?
Lex bit her lip and shook her head slightly, answering her own question. Tristan may have left, but at least there hadn’t been any disgust in his eyes. At least the sordid pictures she would have painted for him wouldn’t haunt him for the rest of his life. At least he wouldn’t wake up in the middle of the night with an uncontrollable urge to take a scalding shower and scrub the memory of her from his skin.
Hugging her legs against a wave of nausea, Alexandra slammed her head against her knees. The ache reverberated through her, easy and consuming.
Why couldn’t pain always be this simple?
Not so long ago, pain was all that she knew; she had born it and inflicted it with the single-mindedness that only a slave could comprehend. She had thought that escaping from her maker would put an end to it, but instead it had matured from something sharp and cold and focused into a hot churning sickness.
Or maybe she was the one who had matured. In the past three years, she had experienced kindness and she had witnessed mercy—virtues that she had all but forgotten the day that she had been changed into a vampire. The world without her maker was brimming with the humanity that he had stolen from her, and while she wanted to gulp it down feverishly, she choked on each sip. The taste of it reminded her of how much innocence she herself had stolen.
Her stomach heaved again. She leaned forward until her body was balanced on the very edge of the metro platform. Staring down at the tracks, she thought about how easy it would be to let go and fall into the path of the next train. She had died so many times already; what was one more?
A shockwave of Power startled her as it whipped through the air, blowing out the lights in the station. Stricken with a sudden sense of vertigo, Lex scrambled back from the edge of the platform and pressed herself against the wall. As soon as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she peered carefully into the tunnel and saw two people—two witches—walking down the subway tracks.
Her heart pounding, Alexandra grabbed her cell phone and dialed Tristan’s number.
No answer.
She checked her signal and saw that she had good reception, so she tried again.
And again.
And again.
Christ, why the hell wouldn’t he pick up?
The witches approached the station and the male witch boosted the female up onto the platform before pulling himself up as well.
Alexandra frowned. Though the girl was blond, she didn’t really fit Aiden’s description of the Daybreak target. Her skin had a slightly olive hue and she was a little too muscular. And when Lex caught a glimpse of the girl’s blank eyes, she saw that they were hazel instead of violet.
Still, they had come out of the tunnel that led to the Daybreak compound. And the male witch seemed edgy as he wrapped the girl’s arm over his shoulder and hauled her toward the exit.
They had to know something.
As soon as the witches hobbled over the turn styles, the lights came back on. The humans in the station looked back and forth at each other in confusion, but none of them even glanced at the witches. The darkness must have cloaked them too well for the humans to see.
Lex, however, could not take her eyes off of the witches as they stepped onto the escalators. Blindly, she dialed Tristan’s phone again, but he still didn’t answer.
Anxiety flooded her. This wasn’t like him. Even if he were angry with her, Tristan would never make her go after the Daybreakers alone; he knew that Alexandra couldn’t fight well. He’d tried several times over the years to teach her a few defensive moves, but she had always been too self-conscious and uncomfortable in her own body to learn.
But the witches were almost out of her sight now. She was going to have to make a decision without Tristan.
Cursing under her breath, Lex ran across the subway platform to follow the Daybreakers. At least for now all she had to do was run, and that was something she knew she was good at.
His lungs were burning. Since they broke out of the compound, Gen had receded into a catatonic state, so Reece had had to practically drag her through the evacuation tunnel. He was on the brink of exhaustion and he needed backup, but he had to find a safe place for them to rest first.
“Come on,” he said to Gen even though he wasn’t sure she could hear him. He readjusted his hold on her, supporting almost all of her weight, and headed west down the street. After trudging two blocks, he turned onto a narrow road lined with newly constructed townhouses. The third house had no cars in the driveway, so he decided to take a chance on it.
Leading Genevieve around the back of the house, he found a sliding glass door that opened into the basement. Reece cast a small spell to unlock the door and then he quickly pulled the Wild Power inside with him.
For a few minutes he just stood there on the balls of his feet as he listened for any sound from upstairs, but it was silent. There was no one home. “Thank the Goddess for small favors,” he breathed.
Scanning the room, Reece saw that the basement had been refurbished into an extra bedroom and whoever lived there was a slob. There was garbage spread on the floor, old food stuck on plates by the TV, and the air smelled of stale sweat. Making a mental note to sterilize his hand later, he brought Genevieve over to the bed and pushed aside a pile of dirty clothes so that there was room for her to sit down.
He kneeled down before the Wild Power and searched her hazel eyes for some sign of awareness. “Gen?” he tried. There was no flicker of response. Carefully, he touched her face. “Look, if you’re in there somewhere, please come back. We’re out of the compound and I’ve got you someplace safe. I’m going to call the others for help and I promise you that we’ll get you out of this city.”
The witch only stared at the floor in front of her.
Shit, this was not good.
Reece sighed heavily as he retrieved his cell phone from his vest pocket. Anxiously, he pressed the speed dial button for Beth’s phone, but she didn’t answer. His throat tight, he resigned himself to trying someone else on the second team, half hoping neither of them answered so that he could cling to some shred of hope that Beth was still alive.
But Jonas Carden picked up on the first ring. His breathless voice was so loud that Reece had to hold the phone a few inches away from his ear. “Cahill, did you get out?”
“Yeah,” he replied. “We’re out, but we lost Sumitra. Gen and I are in the basement of a townhouse a few blocks away from the metro station. Where are you?”
“Nigel and I are running like hell down Georgia Avenue,” the vampire replied. Then in a more serious tone, he added, “Beth’s down. It was a sniper. Clean shot.”
Reece squeezed his eyes shut against the onslaught of pain.
Goddess, no. Not Beth. In his mind’s eye, he could still see her as the gangly girl he’d met almost ten years ago—all legs and eyes and wild blond hair. At the time, he’d been thirteen while she’d only been eleven, so naturally Reece had felt protective of her. But with one vicious roundhouse kick to the ribs that left him gasping for breath on the ground, Beth had proven that she was capable of protecting herself. Even as a child she had been so strong and skilled and dedicated.
How could she possibly be dead?
He never should have brought her down here. How was he going to tell his team back home about this…
“Cahill?” Carden shouted. “You still there?”
Reece took a deep, unsteady breath and opened his eyes again. Through his hot tears he saw Genevieve sitting on the bed, her blank face and dead eyes a sick imitation of his best friend, and he had to turn away from her. He couldn’t think about Beth right now; he still had a job to do. “Yeah,” he said. Then he cleared his throat and tried again. “I’m here.”
“You need backup?” his teammate asked.
“Yes,” Reece replied. “Gen isn’t in good shape and I could use Nigel’s help to heal her. I took some Power from Sumitra, but I’ve already burned through most of it.” He gave the vampire his location. “There’s a Starbucks on the corner; we’ll meet you there.
“There’s a Starbucks on every corner, Cahill,” Carden snorted.
Reece smiled wryly in spite of himself. “Shockingly enough, there’s only one at this intersection.”
“Got it. We’re about five minutes out.”
It was a place she knew well.
Over the years, Angie had heard stories of other beings—vampires, witches, and even humans—whose telepathic abilities rivaled hers, but Lex was the first one she had ever encountered in person. That alone had been reason enough for Angie to become infatuated with the girl, but Lex’s power also intrigued her for another reason: she had the ability to turn it off.
That first night in her penthouse Angie had taunted the vampire girl, chiding her for wasting her gift. She had played upon Lex’s fears, lecturing her on the importance of power and reminding her how it felt to have none. Her words had been calculatedly wise and cruel and glib, designed to conceal the envy that seethed underneath it all.
After that night Angie had stolen into Lex’s mind as often as she could stand, sifting through all of the slaughter and sniveling, desperate to catch a glimpse of the moment when the girl’s power flared to life and, in a panic, Lex snuffed it out like the flame of a candle. Over and over again, Angie studied that moment, trying to discover how the hell the girl did it, but she eventually concluded that Lex’s power was just fundamentally different from hers.
Fucking bitch didn’t know how lucky she was. And for that, Angie wanted Alexandra dead, but she couldn’t afford to kill her just yet; the vampire girl was proving to be too useful at the moment.
Angie could have ordered any one of her people to stake out the compound’s evacuation tunnel—as long as she was familiar with someone, she could single out the vibration of their mind in the din—but having Lex there was almost as good as being there herself. Although the vampire girl was too deep in denial to be aware of it, as she watched the Daybreak witches wait for help outside of a Starbucks, Lex’s power was flickering. Those tiny microbursts of insight told Angie that the Wild Power was broken beyond salvation, and that the male witch—the leader of the Daybreak team—was tired and drained.
They were both open to attack.
Angie dug in deep, running as fast as she could. She knew exactly where Lex and the Daybreakers were, and she was only a few blocks away now. As long as she got there before the cavalry arrived, there would be nothing standing between her and Genevieve Harman.
Although she hadn’t been sure when she’d started, the longer Lex followed the Daybreakers, the more certain she became that they were somehow involved in the mission to transport Angie’s witch. They were both dressed in black clothing and heavy zippered vests which seemed thick enough to stop a bullet, for one thing. And there was something about the way the male witch moved—quickly, but stealthily—that reminded Lex of a solider she had killed a few months ago. He was definitely military of some sort.
But the female witch was strange. Her body seemed lean and toned, and she wasn’t hurt in any way, but she was leaning against the side of the building as if she didn’t have the strength to support her own weight. And in all the time Lex had been watching her, she hadn’t seen the girl blink once. It was as if she weren’t really there.
Alexandra knew that trick. Her maker hadn’t allowed her to use it, but in the last few years, she had become rather adept at it. The only problem was that no matter how deep into yourself you withdrew, sooner or later you had to come back. And when you did, everything would be just as you left it.
You would still be yourself.
But who were these witches? Why were they standing here outside this coffee shop? If they were in the middle of a critical Daybreak mission, why would they be stopping for a moccachino?
Her skin prickled again, as if she was being watched, but the witches hadn’t looked in her direction.
Lex tried to stave off a wave of fear. Her maker had resided in her soul for so long that sometimes the empty space he had once occupied missed him, like a phantom limb. That’s all that this was.
Your mind is your own. Everything is okay.
She had to breathe. She had to remember the litany, to recite it over and over again.
Your mind is your own. Everything is okay.
It didn’t help. She could feel eyes on her. Over her. In her. They seduced. Controlled. Enslaved.
Your mind is your own. Everything is okay.
Goddamn it, she needed Tristan.
No. He’d been right. She didn’t need him, she just neededsomeone—some warm body to hold down and overcome one shudder at a time. Anyone would do. Some guy from the coffee shop, maybe. Or the man waiting across the street for the bus. Or even the Daybreaker witch with the spiky red hair and sculpted muscles…
Seized by reckless desperation, Lex was on the verge of doing just that when a vampire and another witch suddenly emerged from around the corner. Out of breath and drenched in sweat, the newcomers spoke with the red-haired witch, but their voices were too soft for Alexandra to hear. Every now and then one of them gestured to the blond girl who was still leaning against the wall, and all of their expressions turned grim.
The vampire turned away from the rest of the group and stood guard as the new witch, who had dark hair and a compact body, approached the girl. Gently he put his hands on her shoulders and stared into her face while the red-haired witch looked on. The air around them seemed to take on a swirling, milky glow.
They were trying to bring the girl back.
But only a few seconds later, the vampire called out as Angie Catellini appeared on the street corner. A sharp gasp escaped Lex’s lips as she instinctively took a step back, but after a moment she realized that she wasn’t really surprised.
The Night World governor calmly walked over to the Daybreakers, but the seductive sway of her hips seemed a little stilted. A little angry, even.
The red-haired witch, who seemed to be the leader of the group, put himself in front of the blond girl and stood incredibly still as he eyed Angie warily.
Lex could hear the low timbre of the Night World governor’s voice as she spoke only a few words. Then, almost too fast to see, Angie drew a gun and shot at the girl. The leader pushed the target down and threw himself in front of the bullet, which grazed his shoulder. “Nigel, take Genevieve and run!” he shouted to the dark-haired witch.
Genevieve.
Lex gasped again as the name went through her like a blade. God, she had been so dense. The blond witch was the one whom Angie wanted dead; her appearance had just been altered, probably with some kind of spell. And on some level, Lex had known it, but she hadn’t wanted to know that she knew.
The short, dark-haired witch—Nigel—grasped Genevieve’s arm and hauled her down the side street, straight in the direction of Lex’s hiding place. The blond girl’s feet moved, but her hazel eyes were still dazed.
The Daybreak leader and the vampire stayed behind to fight Angie, and she was beating them back brutally. A stake appeared in the leader’s hand, but as he thrust the weapon forward, Angie ducked under his outstretched arm and threw a hard hook to his side. Then she dove for the ground and rolled to the side, narrowly dodging the slice of the other Daybreaker’s knife. Getting to her feet, she tried to run past the both of them, but the leader lunged forward and kicked the back of Angie’s right knee, knocking her down.
Meanwhile, Nigel and Genevieve were almost upon Lex. Anxiously, she hid herself further behind the dumpster and huddled low to the ground.
I’d stop them if I were you, Angie’s voice suddenly pierced her mind. Startled, Lex looked up to find the Night World vampire staring directly at her. If you don’t help me, both you and your sexy bodyguard are dead, Soul Stealer.
There was a strange pulse in Angie’s energy when she’d alluded to Tristan, but Alexandra didn’t have time to think about it. The witches were so close now and as they ran by, she did the only thing that came to mind: she stuck her leg out from behind the dumpster. The male witch, who was running hard, tripped over her leg and pitched forward, landing face down on the pavement.
To Lex’s astonishment, Genevieve stopped running and glanced down at Nigel, her eyes filled with new awareness and uncertainty.
With a groan, Nigel flipped around and glared at Lex. His face was badly scraped and his wrist was bent at a grotesque angle, but he quickly shot to his feet. “Keep running, Gen!” he shouted.
The witch girl hesitated, but finally obeyed the order.
While Lex was distracted, Nigel seized the chance to lash out at her with a stake. Just as the weapon was about to plunge into her chest, she twisted away, pivoting on her toes, and the stake cut open a long gash across her stomach.
Lex knew that she couldn’t do this. The witch was an experienced fighter and she was pathetically ignorant. As he attacked, she used her preternatural speed to slip and dodge the stake, but she was quickly tiring. Before long the witch caught her on the inside of her arm, on the side of her neck, across the small of her back. She was loosing too much blood; her head was swimming and her limbs were heavy. As her world turned cold and gray, the witch saw his chance. He plunged the stake into her gut and left it there as Lex fell heavily to the ground.
So much death.
Such a waste.
Genevieve was running, but she didn’t know why any more. Her head hurt. Her heart hurt. All she wanted was to fall into Aiden’s arms and beg him to finish what he had started. He had to know that she wouldn’t scream or fight. Maybe together they could push through those last few seconds before death and then they could both find some peace.
She could feel him everywhere, an explosion of color and noise. Contradictory emotions fired back and forth in his mind, spiraling and escalating until he wanted to scream. Five days ago Gen would never have thought that Aiden’s systematic, analytical mind could crumble like this; there was just so much more to him than she’d ever known existed.
But then she wasn’t sure that he had known either.
Suddenly nauseas, Genevieve stopped running. Wrapping an arm over her stomach, she hobbled down an alley off of the street and leaned against the wall.
The wind was cool against her face. As her heartbeat slowed, she realized that this was the first time she’d been alone outside of the compound since she’d come to D.C. The thought made her feel strangely free.
She wasn’t a Wild Power now. She was only a girl. Just a small, insignificant girl living in a vast, callous universe that couldn’t care less if she lived or died.
But even as she stood there, she felt her Power beginning to rejuvenate. The blue fire surged through her veins, claiming her body, damning her to a long, lonely life of worship and persecution. A life without love. A life without Aiden.
Her eyes flooded with tears. She couldn’t take this any more.
She heard something like a gasp behind her. Her gaze was drawn up to the roof of the building next to her and she found her soulmate kneeling there, staring down at her with his eerie gray eyes.
Aiden looked haggard. His hair was disheveled, as if he had been running his fingers through it, his cheekbones were sharp, and he was crouched down on one knee while the other was drawn into his chest. Gen wondered if he knew how submissive his posed seemed; even though he was sitting several stories above her, it felt almost as if he was bowing down before her.
There was a subtle shimmer of magick around him—a blockade of Power that was intended to keep people out of his mind. But the spell couldn’t work against Gen; the soulmate link passed through it like a ray of light through glass.
They were alone.
The breeze suddenly felt cold and Genevieve shivered.
“It’s all right,” Aiden breathed.
She looked toward the street for a moment, and then she turned back to her soulmate. “Is it?” she asked him.
He didn’t answer, didn’t move, but something in his gray eyes shattered.
Gen stood transfixed at the sight of the emotion in her soulmate’s face. She ached so badly for him and for herself. The hurt vibrated through the soulmate link and she saw Aiden tremble from it.
Slowly, Genevieve lifted her hand to her face. As she ran her palm over her skin, she released the Power that she had only just regained, using it to combat the spell Nigel had cast. The magick fell away from her, revealing her slender body, her pale complexion, her violet eyes. She was as naked and defenseless against him now as she always had been.
Aiden’s expression changed. His lips parted. His breath quickened.
He was frightened.
He understood now that there was nothing hysterical or overdramatic about the desire inside of her. Rather, it was simple and pure, and the only thing that Gen knew for sure any more.
She wanted to die.
Part 7
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