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“I can’t...”

“Choose between your teenage infatuation or your brother,” Clement says.

I look at Fabien. He’s so tense.

“Jolie.”

I can’t do this. But I have to make a choice.

The world tilts.

I open my mouth to speak...

44

FABIEN

Jolie’s mouth opens, her choice on the tip of her tongue.

This is it.

Clement or me.

I am terrified. My heart can’t survive another bad ending.

But before Jolie can make her decision – before she even makes a sound – the gallery doors behind us slam open.

We all turn to look.

It’s Baptiste. He staggers in, tie loose like Clement’s, eyes wide, his forehead glistening with sweat. He’s rushing, blind to the chaos unfolding inside the gallery, blind to the blood and the tension between his two best friends.

He has news.

And I can already tell from his panicked expression that whatever it is, it’s bad. Real fucking bad.

He steps over glass fragments from the sculpture that fell during the fight, his footsteps echoing in the silent art gallery.

“I knew I’d find you all here,” he pants. “No one is answering their phones.”

Yeah, it’s hard to check your phone when you’re throwing punches at your best friend.

There’s a pause as we all take him in.

“What is it?” I ask.

Baptiste’s hands are shaking. He takes a second. An inhale.

And then...

“The Supreme Elder,” he whispers. “Elwood Levine. He’s dead.”

The room freezes. An instant chill passes through all of us.

Clement is the first to speak.

“Elwood?”

Jolie’s mouth hangs open.