“This whole time, we thought it was about us.” Cybele pressed her hands into her eyes, still laughing. “Like we were so big and important. But we were just the scapegoats.”
Lightning flashed. I found Scout’s eyes across the room. It sounded eerily similar to what Emmy had said right before Brooks hauled her away:You narcissists. You think you’re the only people in the world who are owed some revenge?
“Okay,” Scout said, beginning to pace. “What if we weren’t the point? What if I was framed just because Emmy hates me and the real killer—maybe Luca—thought, ‘Sure, why not, Scout makes a good person to blame’?” She covered her mouth. “What if Emmy was right, and I’m such a raging narcissist that I couldn’t see past myself to what was really going on?”
It was like a lightbulb flicked on. I strode across the floor and seized Cybele’s face before she could stop me, pulling her down and kissing her cheek. “You beautiful fuckinggenius.”
I whirled to the seated women as Cybele scrubbed her cheek. “It fits. Luca is a user. She used Emmy’s hatred to frame Scout, and she used Juliet’s need for validation to carry out the bombing. She’s smart enough to get other people to do her dirty work.”
Reiko collapsed onto the couch. “It’s one thing to come after Scout. But Juliet’s a kid, and now her life is over. The cops are going to rake her over the coals. We were supposed to look out for her, and we failed.”
It was only a coincidence that I happened to be looking at Scout while Reiko spoke, and I caught the strange look that came over her face, the way her gaze moved from the living room to the dark storm outside. No one else seemed to notice—they just kept talking. But I felt that warning in the air again, the animal sense that something was coming.
“One thing at a time,” Cybele insisted, holding up her hands. “Even if we agree that Luca is behind the bombing and the murders, we still don’t know why. Like Kaitlyn said, a political motive seems weak. And without a why, it’s going to be impossible to convince the cops.”
I’d started moving across the room without realizing it, trying to reach Scout, to stop whatever was about to happen. In the hush of breath right before I touched her, Miranda said, “And what can we do about it, if our evidence is mostly gossip?”
My hand closed over Scout’s wrist—but it was already too late.
“I have a plan,” she said, striding past me and forcing me to drop my grip. “But it’s going to involve sacrifice.”
“Whose?” I asked.
“Mine, mostly.” Scout spared me a glance. “But a little bit from everyone.”
“What are you thinking?” Miranda retook her seat on the couch. Cybele followed. One by one, all the women who’d stood settled back down, until the entire room watched Scout with rapt attention.
“I think someone we’ve been treating like an enemy could actually be an ally,” she said. “I’m going to recruit her. By offering her exactly what she’s wanted for months.”
I felt it before she even said it.
“Me.”
“Absolutely not,” I said, striding to Scout’s side as shocked murmurs filled the house.
“Iz.” Scout gave me a warning look. “We need to vote.”
“No. I’m putting my foot down,” I said, loud enough to quiet all the women.
“Izzy—”
“No,” I yelled. The crash of the rain was the only other sound in the room. “This ismydecision. I made all of this.” I turned to encompass the entire room. “You all think it’s Scout—but it’s really me in charge. I’m in the shadows, pulling the strings. Scout’s career? Our rituals? Calling the meetings, coming up with the plans, dividing the work? All me. Kaitlyn, do you know who got your ex-husband to agree to a divorce? Christie, do you know who threatened your stalker until he went away? Miranda, do you know who threw your ex to the IRS? Audrey, who threatened your boss? All of it wasme. This ismygroup, and I get to say what happens next.”
The silence was thick. Even Scout looked shocked. I knew I was coming apart at the seams, but I couldn’t stomach the thought of Scout taking the reins and doing something wild. All this spinning out of my control.
“If I say we’re not risking you,” I continued, turning to Scout, “then we’re not.” My chest heaved.
For a long moment, Scout just stared. Then a smile cracked her face. “There she is.”
“Excuse me?”
“I was starting to think you were a saint, going so many years without throwing a tantrum.Finally. Thank god you’re only human.” Her eyes turned soft. “And I know you built this.” She looked around at the apprehensive faces watching us. “Everyone else should appreciate it, too. But you’re wrong, Iz. It doesn’t belong to you. It never really did.”
I heard it, the echo of the last time she’d plunged a sword into my heart:At the end of the day, Georgia was my sister, not yours.Once again, she knocked the wind out of me.
Scout’s voice lowered. “Juliet is eighteen years old, Isabel. The same age Georgia was. Nobody deserves for their life to end at eighteen.” She squeezed my shoulder, but I remained numb, frozen with shock. Then she turned to the rest of the room and said, her voice loud and sure, “If you’ve ever had faith in me, I’m asking you to vote for my plan.”
For a long time, no one moved. And then, from the middle of couch, with the sparse candlelight flickering across her face, Reiko pressed two fingers to her forehead, then her heart, and then her shoulders. One by one, as I watched, speechless, thirty women made the sign.
