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Evan’s finger tightens around the trigger.

“Stop.”

I stop.

He pulls Anya against his side and points the gun more directly at Elara. “Say it.”

My mouth is dry. “Elara,” I say.

Evan smiles. “No. Tell me who you want.”

Elara looks at me again.

Her hand is trapped beneath Evan’s arm. I can see only the tips of her fingers against his wrist. For a moment, she keeps them still.

Then she taps his palm.

Once.

Twice.

Her eyes don’t leave mine, tears trickle down her eyes. She has accepted her fate. She doesn’t say it, but she doesn’t have to. I see it in her face, the way she holds herself, the way she’s holding her belly protectively…

No, no, no that’s not possible. It can’t be.

She isn’t asking me to save her. She is telling me what to do.

Evan gives her a small shake. “Come on. Say it.”

I keep my gun trained on him. “I choose Anya.”

Anya makes a broken sound. Elara’s face tightens, but she doesn’t look away. Evan shoves Anya toward me.

She stumbles across the grass, and Sergei grabs her around the waist, pulling her behind him. I catch her arm and push her toward the stone wall.

“Stay down,” I order.

Evan swings the gun toward Elara. I hear Elara gasp, and her eyes meet mine. There’s no time to think or what happens if I miss. I fire at the hand holding the gun.

Evan screams. The shot tears through his palm, and the weapon drops onto the stones. Elara reacts before I can reach her. She drives her shoulder into him, forcing him back against the wall, then turns and throws herself over Anya.

“Stay away from her!” she shouts.

Evan tries to grab her with his injured hand. She flinches but keeps her body between him and Anya until Sergei reaches them and forces him face down.

“Take him alive,” I order, though my voice is rough enough that Sergei looks at me before dragging Evan’s arms behind his back.

I cross the garden and drop beside Elara and Anya. Anya is crying against her, and Elara is holding her so tightly that her own hands are shaking.

When Elara looks up at me, I can see what it cost her to stand there.

Her face is wet. Her mouth is trembling. She looks terrified, furious, and relieved all at once.

She loves me. I see it before she can hide it.

The knowledge hits harder than the gunshot. She believed I would understand her signal. She trusted me to choose Anya and still believed I would find a way to save her too.

I lower my weapon and cross the grass. “Are you hurt?”