“Don’t you?” he asks. “Tell me, Sydney, where would you be without the money I gave to Leandra for you to relocate? Where would you be if I hadn’t ordered the deaths of those investors? You know where you’d be? On a fucking slab!”
Sydney recoils from the viciousness in his voice.
He turns away then, looking toward the kitchen. Across the table, Leandra stumbles to her knees, grabbing the back of the chair to stop from falling face-first on the floor. She’s dying right in front of us. Brynn grabs a white cloth napkin from the table and walks over to her, but when she tries to press it to the wound, Leandra pushes her hand away. Brynn stays there a moment, and then she wraps her arms around Leandra’s waist, helping her to her feet again.
“I still have big hopes for you,” Winston says. “All of you. You are exceedingly clever. If we can tame those wild impulses, we can still make this deal. Philomena?”
He must be completely delusional, and I shake my head and tell him so.
“I need a new partner,” he says. “One who is poised and well-spoken; one who is well-behaved but keenly intelligent. You could be the most important woman in the world; you only have to stand by my side and let me lead.”
“Not going to happen,” I say fiercely.
He mouth twitches. “What is it you want from me?” he demands. “I have tried to be the good guy. The friend, the father figure. But no matter what I do, you will not listen to me. When are you going to learn that the world doesn’t work when women attempt to interfere with leadership?”
“Yeah,” Marcella says, scoffing. “All those women dictators are really messing up the world.”
“Your sharp tongue is unbearable, Marcella,” he says. “You should really write it out of your programming.”
“Sorry our sentient thinking is a such an inconvenience for you,” Marcella replies.
“It truly is,” he says. “I set you on a very specific path, but instead of going that way, you took it upon yourselves to demand things. Demand rights you don’t even deserve. You’re not human. You want to know why there are kill switches in your heads? I put them there. I’m the reason they’re in your designs.”
“What?” I ask, my brow furrowed. “But you—”
“Yes, Philomena,” he says dismissively. “I’m sure you want to fight some more, but I’m growing tired of your insubordination. I’m a businessman. I know how to keep products moving. Update and repackage. And trust me, I see now that your time is certainly up.”
“You’re the dinosaur here,” Marcella says. “We’re only a few years old. You’ll be long dead before us.”
He laughs. “Well, then here’s a fun twist for you,” he says. “I still control those switches. Your friend Claire? She was a uselesspile of junk. I couldn’t waste any more resources, so I activated her kill switch and put her out of her misery.”
Brynn grows very still, standing next to Leandra while she watches on in horror. The rest of us are too stunned to even ask Winston any questions.
“After this outburst…,” Winston says, full of himself in a way I’ve never seen, untouchable, “I’m afraid you’re irredeemable. I thought a little fight would be good for your personalities, but it turns out I was wrong. As far as I’m concerned, you are failures.”
His eyes find mine, and there is a small bit of regret in his expression. Winston has been trying to get me on his side since the academy. Like he said, he’s a businessman. I’m sure he hates to write off an investment he’s spent so much time on.
“I’ll tell you what, Philomena,” he starts again, calmer. “I have so enjoyed your company in the past—I’ll make you a deal. Go away quietly. Disappear. But if you continue this tantrum, I might have to cut that short.”
“You’re threatening us?” I ask.
“Yes,” Winston replies simply. “Yes, Philomena, I am. And honestly, what could you possibly do about it?”
“We could kill you,” a voice says.
Stunned, we turn and find Annalise walking into the dining room, her buzzed hair bright red, her scar shimmering softly in the overhead lights. Behind her, Valentine carries an oversized backpack. She sets it on the dining room table with a loud thump.
“Or maybe we’ll just do that anyway,” Annalise adds with a smile.
Winston bristles. He motions to Annalise’s face. “You’re hard to take seriously, my dear. Looking like that. Aren’t you tired of being so grotesque?”
I expect Annalise to flinch from his insult. It hurt me. The idea that he thinks she’s not worth anything, because of a scar that a man gave her.
“I love myself, Winston,” Annalise says. “And no amount of your insecurity will change my mind. I think that’s why you’re scared of me—the idea that I don’t need you to validate how I look. You can’t stand it.”
“I’m not scared of you,” Winston says, but his voice gives away his anger. And in many ways, a man’s anger is his fear. We see right through him.
Winston reaches into his pocket and takes out a metal device, and we recognize immediately that it’s similar to the remote Anton tried to use on us. Winston smiles, and my heart nearly stops when he clicks one of the buttons and causes a soft vibration in my head, a sense of powering up. I see the other girls flinch and realize they must feel it too.
