“She won’t tell you,” Mr. Fincastle snapped. Then he glanced at me, frowning slightly. His eyes drifted over my shoulder as if he was expecting to see someone else.
With a start, I realized who that would be.
“Are you looking for your daughter?” Papá asked. “I happen to know her whereabouts.”
Oh no. I squirmed, but my father tightened his hold.
A muscle jumped in Mr. Fincastle’s cheek. His face paled, and he appeared to brace himself.
“Her corpse can be found on Pharos Island. My daughter—well, presumably my daughter—killed her.”
Mr. Fincastle looked to have been dealt a mortal blow. He staggered and whispered hoarsely, “You lie.”
My mother looked at me for confirmation, her face draining of all color. When I nodded, she seemed to crumble, her knees shaking, shoulders dropping. I thought she would slump to the ground, but somehow, she remained standing.
“Ask Inez,” Papá said. “Tell him what happened, hijita.”
“She was crushed,” I whispered. “Isadora fired at us first.”
A devastated roar ripped out of Mr. Fincastle. He dropped to his knees, bellowing, moaning like an anguished animal.
“On your feet!” Mr. Graves yelled.
“I never should have sent Isadora to you,” Mr. Fincastle screamed at me. In an act of lunacy, he dove for the pile of weapons. His hands were a blur of motion, moving quickly, as he grabbed one of the pistols and fired.
Mr. Graves staggered, then crashed to the floor. The wood splintered under his weight. Papá dragged me backward, cursing loudly in my ear. I dug my elbow into his side, and he howled, releasing me. I landed hard on my hands and knees, eyes watering from the impact. I flipped onto my back, kicking as he tried to reach for me again. Mr. Fincastle fired another shot, and Papá cursed again before ducking behind one of the columns, shooting over his shoulder.
One of his bullets rushed past my shoulder, smacking at a spot near my arm. More shots rang out, Mr. Sterling’s men had joined the fight. Bullets streaked over my head, and I curled myself into a ball as terror filled my mouth, making it hard to breathe.
“Inez, run!” Mamá screamed.
I looked up, surprised by her warning. Mr. Fincastle was racing toward me at full tilt, a knife in one hand, a gun in the other.
“Charles, don’t!” Mamá said, her voice tinged with terror and desperation.
But Mr. Fincastle ignored her, his whole attention fixed on me. He took aim—
His body jerked to a stop. His eyes widened, and he glanced down at the blood staining his shirt. He managed to look over his shoulder, an animalistic howl on his lips before slumping to the floor, his mouth open.
Behind him stood my mother, a smoking pistol in her hand. Tears streaked down her cheeks, and she let out a loud sob as she ran toward him. I stood, knees shaking, in shock that she had saved me.
“Mamá,” I whispered, just as she said, “Oh,Charlie.” She dropped to the floor, eyes red rimmed, tears streaming down her dusty face. Her hand shook as she reached for her dead lover.
“Mamá?”
“Don’t,” she said, clenching her eyes and refusing to look at me. “Go! ¡Sal de aquí!”
Papá rounded the pillar, pistol in hand. He stood triumphantly before us, a man on the verge of winning everything. The cold line of his mouth could have stabbed me through.
“Do you side with your mother, then?” Papá asked.
I tore my gaze from his gun and looked at Mamá, who still refused to meet my eyes. She was cradling Mr. Fincastle’s head in her lap. “If you would have left Egypt, he would still be alive,” she whispered. “None of this would have happened.”
“It was always going to end like this,” I said. “When you both declared war, did you really think there wouldn’t be a cost? Did you really think there wouldn’t be consequences?”
“Enough, Inez.” Papá straightened his shoulders, visibly bracing himself. “Choose.”
I shook my head. I’d been pulled into their bloody fight for long enough, and if I only had one more minute left to live, then I would live it for myself. “I chooseme.”
