"That's why we have to take them out," I insist.
"You think I don't wake up every night wondering if the next message from the Underworld will demand one of them as tribute?" he snaps.
"Then you know I'm right."
His voice drops; a growl brews underneath. "It's impossible to slash the throat of a beast. We find the traitors and take them out one by one."
I step closer, fire rising inside me. "And the next traitors? And the next? And then the ones after that?"
He doesn't speak.
I point out, "You know how this works. Every time you fix one thing, three more erupt. You can't repair a house built on burial grounds. You have to destroy it all."
"You think blowing it up won't kill innocent people?"
"I think leaving it alive guarantees that it will."
He rubs his temples. "You're not listening."
"I'm listening. And the next full moon my wife is on the fertility black market!" I hurl.
He sighs, scrubbing his hand over his face.
I point at him. "Accept the truth. Your father built this thing, hoping to create order. He dreamed of unity. He died before he understood what his actions created."
His expression fractures, the sadness and anger cracking just enough to reveal something raw underneath.
I lower my voice, asking, "Do you really think your father wanted all this?"
It detonates the space between us. He pushes off the wall, pacing so hard the floor nearly shakes. He snaps, "For all I know, he did want this fucked-up world. Maybe he wanted masks, rituals, and punishments. Maybe he wanted power above everything."
"What's going on?" a soft voice says behind us.
We both turn.
Zara stands in the doorway. Her eyes rim with worry. "Loop me in. What are you arguing about?"
Sean tenses, and I step forward.
"The entire system is broken. Utopia doesn't exist now and never will. It's rotten to the marrow. They plan to harvest Valentina's eggs every month until she's 40 then kill her. We have no idea what they're planning for the rest of us. We didn't get into those files yet. But they're trying to orchestrate all of our executions. And it won't stop at the six of us. It'll eventually include the twins."
Zara's color drains down her face. She puts a hand on her stomach. She swallows hard and pins her gaze on her husband. "Sean?"
He stares at her with an equally pale expression, grinding his molars.
I step closer. "We saw our faces on an execution directive. Yours. Sean's. Kirill's. Fiona's. Valentina's. Mine."
Her eyes go glassy with a quiet terror that hits me harder than any threat on a screen. She accuses, "You kept this from me?"
Sean closes the distance between them in two strides and wraps an arm around her waist. "I'm sorry. I just learned about it and didn't want you to worry."
She presses her palm harder against her stomach, like she's anchoring herself. "Didn't want me to worry? Sean, you'd better tell me everything right now."
I speak before he can, rattling off every warning the Underworld shoved in our faces, along with the inconsistencies that prove these aren't just rogue factions. They're part of the backbone of the entire operation.
She listens without interrupting. By the time I finish, she looks between the two of us with steady, haunted clarity. She states, "So you want to destroy it?"
"Yes."
