The thing about poison is that it’s not the name of the substance or the meaning behind the word itself that matters. It’s the effect of it, the feeling of a toxin creeping through your veins, consuming you in your sleep or faster than you can call for help, depending on how strong it is. I’ve read all about the different types of poison, researched everything I could about the possible antidotes, ever since I was a little girl who wanted nothing more than her parents to come back to life after she accidentally killed them. But I could never find anything to counteract the toxin created by my own lips, the death unwillingly wrought by my aberration. Because that’s the thing about poison when you don’t have an antidote.
It always kills you. Always.
Unless you’re me.
Jamie doesn’t know that I’m immune to poison. I’m immune and he isn’t, and only one of us is going to die from being poisoned tonight. Maybe when I was younger, I would have revealed this piece of information, either inadvertently or otherwise, and one way or another my immunity would have come out eventually. But after all this time training with the Executive, after all this time with Alpha as my partner, I know what to do next.
I press my lips together, as if trying not to drink the poisoned alcohol.
Jamie lets out a sigh of exasperation and yanks my head back. “Come on,” he says impatiently. “I know this is how the Executive was killing the directors who were going to vote for me. I figured I’d return the favor, starting with Zoe Evano. You have to understand that you can’t escape this one.”
He pinches my nose until my mouth opens involuntarily, then pours the whiskey laced with cyanide into my throat. His hand almost smothers me as I’m forced to gulp down enough poison to kill several people. The ease and firmness with which he’s doing this is making my blood run cold. How many times has he forcibly poisoned someone who wouldn’t willingly drink from his flask?
When Jamie finally releases me, I begin coughing and choking, my eyes tearing up from the effort of struggling to breathe. It looks as if I’m about to die from the effects of poison, but that’s exactly what he needs to believe right now.
“It’s been nice knowing you, Eliza, or Lily, or whatever your name is,” he says coldly, no longer interested in wasting time on me. “But I believe I have some of your friends to attend to elsewhere. I can’t say their fate will be any better than yours.”
As I let myself collapse limply to the floor, Jamie strides out of the lobby, followed by the rest of his security team, leaving me alone with the lifeless bodies of his father and the two guards killed by Alpha. In his mind, I’m no longer a threat. But even though I’ve gained the advantage, I’m finding myself on the verge of breaking down. I’m too emotional without my partner’s steadying influence to balance me, too scattered without an anchor to hold me together. Even my own target thinks I’m already dead. And it’s true that everything I’ve discovered tonight is making me want to stay down, to cry my heart out until I can’t feel anymore, as if I really am dead.
But I will always feel, won’t I? I’ll feel yearning to have August by my side. I’ll feel pain when I think of the thousands of children in the manifest. I’ll feel anger at the memory of Jamison Hart smothering me and forcing me to drink poison. I’ll feel rage burning through my veins, reminding me that I am the only person who can right these wrongs.
For the first time in my life, I’m finally understanding that all this emotion isn’t my weakness. Without emotion, I never would have gotten close to Jamison Hart. Without emotion, I never would have become the person I am now. I have not broken, and I am not giving up. I feel as if I could save every child in the world in this moment and this, finally, is the heart of it.
Emotion is what gives me strength.
And if I fall apart now, if I let myself disintegrate into a shadow of my former self, I will lose absolutely everything.
I can’t let that happen.
But I don’t have much time before Jamie realizes I’m not dead. I know he has my partner, and I need to figure out who else he has and where. The moment he starts to falter from my poison, I have to be there to take advantage of it.
I’m not going to let August down.
Moving quickly, I grab a jacket and an ID card from one of the dead guards, then yank on a black cap and pull it low over my head. I sling an assault rifle over my shoulder and search Gallagher Hart’s pockets, finding a flask, a pocketknife, and a cigar case. Trying not to puke, I flip open the pocketknife and cut into his hand, carefully digging out a microchip coated in blood. After what feels like an eternity, I empty the cigar case and secure the microchip inside it.
And the entire time all I can think is, August needs me.
At the front entrance of the building, the security gate is no longer manned by guards, but there’s a restricted door off to the side. I swipe the ID card and let myself into a small room lined with monitors, all of which are showing real-time footage from security cameras around the building.
There’s a lone guard in here, who takes one look at my stolen jacket and reaches for his weapon. He’s dead before he hits the ground. Another time this would be affecting me, making me want to scream, but the only things I can see right now are August’s helpless eyes, and the ten children in the shipping container, and the expression on Jamison Hart’s face when he tried to kill me.
I scan the monitors as fast as I can, searching for any sign of Executive operatives. At least half the screens are showing children lying in hospital beds, connected to tubes and wires and machines. I swallow hard, my fingers clenching into white-knuckled fists, but I can’t do anything about it right now. If I let myself be captured again, Jamie will kill all of us for sure, and then there won’t be anyone left to stop the shipments.
I finally manage to locate Alpha on one of the screens. He’s being dragged out to the dock at the back of the building, along with Romeo and Uncle, who are also disguised as security guards. All three operatives have been blindfolded and restrained with plastic zip-ties. August, though, can still see me with his X-ray vision. He’s been able to see what I’ve been doing this entire time. His face is turned toward me, and he knows that I’m watching him in here. He can see that I’m determined to do this.
But then he gives a small shake of his head.
Someone’s coming.
I swing around and fire at the doorway, just as two security guards start to enter. They crumple to the floor, and then I’m stepping over their bodies and heading for the back of the building. It feels as if the world is moving in slow motion around me, the same way it did when Mellie Hart started to pull the trigger in the penthouse, but this time I’m the one who’s killing people. Not with my poisoned lips, but with the assault rifle in my hands. Even when a guard manages to shoot me in the chest, all I do is stumble back a few steps, my ribs bruising underneath my bulletproof corset, before taking him out without hesitation. The overriding thought in my mind is saving those who need to be saved. This is who I am right now. This is who I have to be, at least until I get off this island.
And Jamison Hart will be dead in approximately five minutes.
When I finally reach the back of the building, Alpha, Romeo, and Uncle are all kneeling at the end of the dock. There are only a couple of security guards out here, but I duck behind the empty shipping container, trying not to scream or do anything that’ll give away my position.
Because Jamison Hart is pointing his stepmother’s revolver at August’s head, ready to fire.
“Why are you here?” Jamie demands. “Did the Executive send you to kill me because Eliza failed? Is that it?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” August says steadily.
It’s a stalling technique intended to give me time to figure out what to do next. I was going to wait until Jamie died from my poison, but I can see now that he’s already losing patience, on the verge of pulling the trigger within the next few seconds.
My pulse jolting with adrenaline, I step out from behind the shipping container and fire the assault rifle, taking out the security guards before they realize what’s happening. Jamie whirls around to look at me, but the revolver remains trained on August.
I swear, if he shoots my partner, I will fire every bullet I have into his body.
“Eliza?” says Jamie, his lips curled into an incredulous snarl. “I already killed you. You should be dead.”
“You’ll have to try harder than that,” I say harshly, trying to keep his focus on me. “I’m an aberrant, Jamie. I can do things you’ll only ever be able to dream about in that sad little head of yours.”
He stares at me with glittering eyes. “You’re immune to poison.”
“Among other things.” I tense my finger on the trigger. “What did you want, Jamie? What aberration did you crave so badly that you had to do all this?”
The answer doesn’t come immediately. It looks as if Jamie is struggling to find the words, but in reality it’s becoming difficult for him to breathe. The poison from my lips is reaching its final stages, spreading throughout his entire body to take maximum effect.
“To be able to breathe underwater,” he gasps. “To save my mother...”
I almost feel bad for him. Almost. “I’m guessing you’d like to be able to breathe at all right now,” I say, drawing closer to him. He’s too busy clutching at his collar to notice. “You should know that I didn’t fail my mission to kill you.”
“Your lips.” He has to force out the words. “It wasn’t an electric current, was it?”
“No, Jamie,” I say gently. “It was poison.”
And then my target drops to his knees, convulsing and shuddering, the revolver falling from his hands. I don’t lean down to retrieve it. I don’t need to. These are his last moments, and he won’t be alive for much longer. After a few seconds, I reach down and check his pulse to find nothing there at all. I’d thought my poisoned lips wouldn’t ever be the key to saving the world, but today they are. Because I did it. I actually did it.
I killed Jamison Hart.