“If you make the call, then I detonate a bomb every minute,” the Jackal says, tapping his ear where a little com has been implanted. Lilath must be listening. She must have the trigger. That’s what he meant. She’s his insurance. “Would I really tell you my plan if you could do anything about it?” He straightens his hair and wipes blood from his armor. “The bombs were installed weeks ago. The Syndicate smuggled the devices across the moon for me. Enough to create nuclear winter. A second
Rhea, if you will. When they were in place, I told Octavia what I had done and I told her my terms. She would carry on as Sovereign until the Rising was put down, which…has taken a surprising twist…
obviously. And afterward, on the day of victory, she would convene the Senate, abdicate the Morning Throne and name me her successor. In return, I would not destroy Luna.”
“That’s why Octavia has the Senate rounded up,” Mustang says in disgust. “So you could be Sovereign?”
“Yes.”
I stand back from him, feeling the weight of the fight on my shoulders, the weakness in my body
from the strain, the loss of blood, now this…this evil. This selfishness, it’s overwhelming.
“You’re bloodydamn mad,” Sevro says.
“He’s not,” Mustang says. “I could forgive him if he were mad. Adrius, there are three billion people on this moon. You don’t want to be that man.”
“They don’t care for me. So why should I care for them?” he asks. “This is all a game. And I have
won.”
“Where are the bombs?” Mustang asks, taking a threatening step toward him.
“Uh-uh,” he says, scolding her. “Touch a hair on my head, Lilath detonates a bomb.” Mustang’s beside herself.
“These are people,” she says. “You have the power to give three billion people their lives, Adrius.
That is power beyond anything anyone should ever want. You have the chance to be better than Father.
Better than Octavia…”
“You condescending little bitch,” he says with a small laugh of disbelief. “You really think you can still manipulate me. This one is on you. Lilath, detonate the bomb on the southern Mare Serenitatis.”
We all look to the hologram of the moon above our heads, hoping beyond hope that somehow he’s bluffing. That somehow the transmission won’t go through. But a little red dot glows on the cool hologram, blossoming outward, a small almost insignificant little animation that envelops ten kilometers of city. Mustang rushes to the computer. “It’s a nuclear event,” she whispers. “There’s more than five million people in that district.”
“Were,” the Jackal says.
“You freak…” Sevro shrieks, rushing the Jackal. Cassius gets in his path, knocking him back. “Get
out of my way!”
“Sevro, calm down.”
“Careful, Goblin! There’s hundreds more,” the Jackal says.
Sevro’s overwhelmed, clutching his chest where his heart must be wrenching from the drugs.
“Darrow, what do we do?”
“You obey,” the Jackal says.
I force myself to ask: “What do you want?”
“What do I want?” He wraps a bit of cloth around his bleeding arm, using his teeth. “I want you to be what you always wanted, Darrow. I want you to be like your wife. A martyr. Kill yourself. Here. In front of my sister. In return, three billion souls live. Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted? To be a hero? You die, and I will be crowned Sovereign. There will be peace.”
“No,” Mustang says.
“Lilath, detonate another bomb. Mare Anguis, this time.”
Another red blossom erupts on the display. Nuclear fire ends the lives of millions. “Stop!” Mustang says. “Please. Adrius.”
“You just killed six million people,” Cassius says, not comprehending.
“They’ll think it’s us,” Sevro sneers.
The Jackal agrees. “Each bomb looks like part of an invasion. This is your legacy, Darrow. Think
of the children burning now. Think of their mothers screaming. How many you can save by simply
pulling a trigger.”
My friends look at me, but I’m in a distant place, listening to the moan of the wind through the tunnels of Lykos. Smelling the dew on the gears in the early morning. Knowing Eo will be waiting
for me when I come home. Like she waits for me now at the end of the cobbled road, as Narol does,
as Pax and Ragnar and Quinn and, I hope, Roque, Lorn, Tactus and the rest of them do. It would not be the end to die. It would be the beginning of something new. I have to believe that. But my death would leave the Jackal here in this world. It would leave him with power over those I love, over all I’ve fought for. I always thought I would die before the end. I trudged on knowing I was doomed. But my friends have breathed love into me, breathed my faith back into my bones. They’ve made me want to
live. They’ve made me want to build. Mustang looks at me, her eyes glassy, and I know she wants me to choose life, but she will not choose for me.
“Darrow? What is your answer?”
“No.” I punch him in the throat. He croaks. Unable to breathe. I knock him down and jump atop him, pinning his arms to the ground with my knees so his head is between my legs. I jam my hand into his mouth. His eyes go wild. Legs kicking. His teeth cut my knuckles, drawing blood.