“I did have her tail you,” Saffi admitted hoarsely. “But only at the party. I tried to send her home after. She told me she left.”
“So she lied,” Dimple said after a beat. “Sounds like someone I know.”
“Saffi, what?” Andino asked. “You sent Mia after her?”
His words barely registered. It was such a bizarre development, standing here discussing their equal share in someone’s untimely death. Both accepting their part of the blame. Except it wasn’t really that strange, when she thought about it. To be known, maybe it wasn’t as terrible as she’d imagined.
Saffi had Dimple’s attention on her and suddenly her feet were planted firmly on the ground. “I know you’re upset with me right now, Saffi, but you must understand I have my reasons.”
“He killed Priyal,” Saffi said simply.
Dimple blinked at her easy acceptance.
“I’m not upset with you,” Saffi said. “Mia Martinez’s death was just as much my fault as it was yours. And the article—you were keeping your promise, weren’t you? In your own fucked-up way.”
Many people had been brutally honest with Saffi throughout her life, and she’d always accepted it as best she could. It was much rarer to see someone stand unflinching against her own brutal honesty. To lay bare the truth and receive the same in return. What was that if not justice?
Dimple’s eyes sparkled and she took a step closer. “You understand. You see it, don’t you? That we’re the same. I know you do, Ican read it on your face.” She laughed in disbelief. “Saffi, it doesn’t have to be you or me anymore. It can be youandme.”
Saffi opened her mouth to voice her confusion before she realized that wasn’t true. She knew exactly what Dimple meant. It didn’t feel like they were on opposite sides anymore, not really. They felt more like accomplices.
“What the hell is going on here?” Andino mumbled with a humorless laugh.
Saffi looked at him and then to Dimple. It suddenly occurred to her that this was Dimple Kapoor without her mask. There was no trace of lie or deception in the small space between them. Saffi had wanted so desperately to see this side of her, and rightfully so. The embodiment of fire itself. This was Dimple Kapoor driven to murder. It was fascinating.
“Don’t kill him,” Saffi said.
Dimple sighed something weary, but she did turn away from Andino. “If that’s still how you feel, then I clearly haven’t kept my promise.”
Then she did something completely unexpected. Dimple walked over and pressed the gun squarely into Saffi’s palms. It was cold as ice and clean despite the fact that Kapoor’s other hand was covered in blood. If she hadn’t wrapped Saffi’s fingers around the handle, she would’ve dropped it on instinct.
At her visible confusion, Dimple leaned in. “You asked me how you can move on,” she whispered. “This is how. Let him go.”
“I can’t,” Saffi whispered, horrified. She tried to push the weapon back into Dimple’s hands, but she refused to takeit.
“It’s your choice,” Dimple said.
When she stepped away, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed, Saffi realized that this was Dimple’s way of returning the power to her. She would let Saffi deal with this however she saw fit, whether that meant putting a bullet through Atlas’s heart or through Dimple’s. How long had it been since someone had trusted her judgment so completely?
When Saffi didn’t get right to work, Dimple made an over-the-top gesture for her to get on withit.
The amount of stubbornness in this room would only pave the way for disaster. Letting Andino live would mean turning Dimple in. She’d be choosing the man who did nothing but remind Saffi of her worst mistake—the same mistake he’d also been about to make before she’d shown up to help. The man who’d cared more about a delayed check than he did about bringing the right criminal to justice. The one who, even now, after killing an innocent woman in cold blood, refused to see Saffi’s perspective. The one who’d asked for Saffi’s help and then, in turn, been jealous of her skills. A hypocrite. The one thing Saffi hated more than anything else. When had Andino turned into one? Or maybe he’d been one all along, and she’d just been too blinded by the memory of the boy who wroteminus ten for excessive arroganceat the top of all of her essays and doodled cacti on her birthday cards.
Seeing her approach, Andino gave a sigh of relief and began rising to his feet, but Saffi clamped one hand down on his shoulder and forced him back to his knees. Andino’s mouth opened and closed in horror, but he couldn’t seem to figure out what he wanted to say. It wasn’t a bad view, entirely. She’d never been in the position to look down at him before.
“What the hell are you doing?” Andino asked, equal parts anger and fear.
If he had found out about Saffi’s crimes for the first time today, just like her parents had, would he have reacted similarly? Saffi could imagine it. Him cursing her and cutting her off. Very rarely did someone understand another’s predicament unless they too had been subjected to it. Dimple seemed to be the only exception.
“How did you piece it all together?” Saffi asked. “Not even Taylor could.”
Andino’s eyes flicked down at the gun in Saffi’s grip. She wasn’t pointing it at him, but he seemed to recognize the implied threat. “That’s because you gaslit him,” he replied.
“You helped,” Saffi said. It was true, even if he’d been unaware at the time.
“Don’t act like you weren’t playing both of us.” Andino glared up at her. “Eli was right, and you let him think he was losing his mind.What—were you afraid we’d take the spotlight from you? Afraid we’d solve the case faster than you ever could?”
“I work better alone,” Saffi said.
