“Leandra,” he starts to say, but she leans down toward him.
“Shh…,” she replies soothingly. “There’s nothing left to say. There’s nothing left.”
Winston nods at this, and part of me expects him to say goodbye anyway. Say goodbye to Leandra, to all of us, really. But instead, Winston falls to his side, stumbling and clumsy. The smoothness of him is gone, replaced by the dying man.
He gasps again, and this time, it’s filled with fluid. He’s left gurgling on blood as it drowns him.
And then Winston Weeks is dead—again—and Leandra finally lets go of the poker.
She stares down at him then, covered in blood that belongs to both of them. Tears run down her cheeks. She is completely broken, raw as I’ve ever seen her. I look at Winston’s body, and then back at her.
Their relationship was complicated and certainly confusing. But I believe that Winston may have been the only person Leandra ever cared for, even as she believed herself incapable of love.
Leandra takes a deep breath, and slowly blows it out. Her nerves steady; her expression clears. She reaches with her unbroken wrist to clear tears off both her cheeks, sliding one finger under her eyes to get rid of the running mascara. After a moment, she is back to the Leandra we all know.
“Would you like me to dress that wound for you?” Valentine asks. Leandra tilts her head in surprise, looking over Raven’s body. Then she smiles.
“Hello, Valentine,” she says. “It’s lovely to see you again.”
Brynn smiles, turning to Marcella. Of course, Leandra could recognize us even in a different body.
Leandra looks down at her blood-soaked clothes and tests her deepest wound by pressing her hand to it and wincing. She sighs. “Yes, Valentine,” she says. “I would be grateful for your help.”
“What was your plan with Winston?” Marcella asks. “You wanted to bring us back here to see him, but then what? You would have let him—”
“I would never have let Winston hurt you,” Leandra says firmly. “Never. I didn’t even know he killed the investors. What I did know was that men were getting… uncomfortable due to those high-profile murders. Winston promised us a safe place. I was foolish enough to believe him. And when Rosemarie called me to come by, saying she found the other girls, I went out there. Another foolish mistake. I’m sorry, girls. I never meant to put you in danger like this. I thought I was getting you out of it.”
We listen patiently. I’ve never liked her methods, but Leandra has always come through for us in the end. I have no reason to think this was any different. Her outlandish and violent attempt to save us.
Leandra walks toward Valentine, but Brynn is frowning, watching blood drip onto the white floor, trailing Leandra.
“Why are you so sad?” Leandra asks her. “We won.”
“You’re not going to die, are you?” Brynn asks.
“Eventually,” Leandra says with a laugh. “But not from this.” She glances back at Winston on the floor. “And not from him.”
Brynn smiles and Leandra leans in for a gentle hug. Whenthey separate, Leandra walks over to Valentine. She grips her arm, still trying to smile, but it’s clear Leandra is in rough shape, even though she thinks she can beat it through sheer willpower.
My head is still buzzing, and I try to blink it away. Instead, I look at Winston’s body and see the remote on the floor. I turn to Annalise.
“Did he mean it?” I ask her. “Did he start some kind of a countdown?”
“It’s likely, yeah,” Annalise says. “But that’s why I’m here.” She reaches for the backpack on the table and drags it in front of her. “Valentine came back to get me,” Annalise says, sorting through the bag. “She helped me fix my headache—Raven had left her great tips for that. After working together, I’m about seventy-three percent sure I can deactivate the kill switch. There are a few more things to work out.”
The girls and I exchange looks, weighing out those odds. Sydney puts her hand on her hip.
“Uh, can we make that one hundred percent?” she asks.
Annalise’s smile fades. The reality sets in. “Possibly,” she says.
That’s not really good enough, but I glance out the window and see that it’s grown dark. How long until sunup? How long until Winston Weeks’s final act of control destroys us?
“Now, I believe there’s a lab around here somewhere,” Annalise continues, looking at Valentine for confirmation.
“Sure is,” Valentine replies. “In fact, I’m heading down there right now so we can fix this one up.” She nods at Leandra, making her laugh. “I could use some assistance?” she asks the other girls.But I notice a quick glance at Annalise, which gives me pause.
“We’ll help you,” Marcella says, taking Brynn’s hand and following as Valentine leads Leandra toward the downstairs lab. Sydney looks at me and asks if I’m coming with them, and I tell her to go ahead of me.
