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I shot another man in an Order mask as he advanced on a terrified woman who bolted, a screaming baby on her hip, then a plainclothes man that had tackled a small boy to the ground. Then it became an exercise of simply eliminating anyone attacking civilians. Eventually, though, I had to stop. There were more I should’ve helped, but I had only seventeen bullets, and I’d already used ten of them.

If I couldn’t find Hamilton and get out of there, then I needed a defensible position where I could hold out until there was a means of escape.

There weren’t many options. All the various stands were occupied, and I couldn’t use the stage as cover when anyone could walk up behind me. In the end, I settled on a patch of bushes that backed up against the fence in a distant corner behind the stage. It wasn’t a good spot, but at least it was away from the main conflict. Hiding and shooting anyone who came too close was my best chance. I remembered John’s instructions: find one of the White Rose. They were under orders to help me.

The problem was that all of them were occupied with the horror that was unfolding. I hunkered down in the bushes, my ruined skirt hiked up to my knees, my pistol always at the ready. I shot two more Order members when they came near my hiding place. Five bullets left.

Finally, a few minutes later, a group of seven White Rose soldiers in gas masks appeared in my field of vision, and I popped up from my hiding spot. I called out to them, and they responded immediately, heading toward me. One of them tore off his mask, revealing pale skin, golden hair, and a boyish face.

“Sole Survivor,” he said with a nod. “Let’s get you out of here. We’ve managed to secure one of the gates. We’ll get you to safety.”

I nearly sagged with relief. “Thank you. John will be looking for me.”

The briefest surprise passed over his features, but then he merely nodded again. “We’ll take you to the Wastelander.”

They led me toward the southern gate, where the White Rose were indeed holding their ground against the Order. They’d taken riot shields from the military guards and had fashioned them into a kind of makeshift barricade around the gate as they allowed civilians to escape. The fighting had largely stopped here, though gunshots still rang out from other areas of the park.

There was a White Rose soldier ahead of us, his mask in hand as he escorted a civilian woman and two children through the gate. Once they were through, our group stepped forward. The man who’d greeted me saluted the White Rose fighters at the gate, motioning for them to let us through. But he didn’t lift his mask.

A tiny, nagging doubt sprung into my mind at the gesture, but the White Rose gatekeepers saw me and waved us through. We exited the park, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Once we were outside, the White Rose soldiers surrounded me and led me down the street, acting as a protective wall.

“Let’s get you to safety,” the blonde man from earlier said as he removed his gas mask again. We had set off down the street at a fast clip, eager to put as much distance between us and the park as possible. “We have a blockade just a few blocks from here. We’ll hold out there until it’s safe. One of our guys will find your Wastelander and bring him to you.”

I froze, frowning. “Shouldn’t you take me to the garrison? He’ll look for me there.”

“The garrison’s not safe,” he replied, sounding strangely irritated by my hesitation, and alarm bells went off in my head. “And it’s too far, anyway. You’ll be safer at our camp. We’ve blockaded an entire street, so there’s plenty of room.”

I backed away from him, only to bump into one of the other soldiers. They stood around me in a circle, closing me in. Horrible truth dawned on me.

“You’re not White Rose,” I said slowly, cold sweat dripping down my back.

The blonde man gave me a hideous smile. “No, Vessel. We wear many faces to get what we want. The Prince is anticipating meeting you again upon his arrival at the Delta.”

I pointed my pistol at him, but he laughed in my face. There were seven of them and one of me. I’d never be able to take all of them.

“What the fuck is happening here?” a gruff, disgruntled voice growled behind me.

We all turned to see my husband at the end of the street, looking thunderous and bedraggled, with his rifle pointed at my nearest attacker.

Chapter 27

John

When the festival started, I didn’t expect to see Major-General Ainsley’s face appear on the giant screen they had behind the stage. But Claire’s father was there, and despite having no desire to watch him die, I did—along with thousands of others.

Even watching it through my scope with no sound, it was horrifying. I had no idea what was going on, or why it was being shown. My heart was pounding in my ears as Claire walked onto the stage. At the podium, she started speaking, and I jumped as Ayanna’s voice buzzed in my earpiece. She hadn’t said anything to me this entire time; I’d forgotten I had it.

“What the fuck is she doing?” she demanded, and I could hear Claire’s voice magnified in the background.

My stomach dropped. “I don’t know. This wasn’t our plan. What’s she saying?”

Ayanna sighed. There was a scratching sound, and then Claire’s voice came through clearly. She must’ve removed her earpiece and held it up so I could hear.

I didn’t know I was expecting, but it wasn’t an impassioned speech that revealed the truth about this place. Or a total takedown of Julius and his regime. Or for her to talk about me, and loving me as resistance.

My eyes burned as I listened and watched her face through the scope. She was emotional, but strong and defiant. In her long black dress, she looked like a queen—beautiful and fierce and dangerous. Some part of me was furious that she’d done this without telling me, but the rest of me was prouder of her than I’d ever been.

Proud and terrified. She was brave like her father, and that was going to get her killed like him, too. Sure enough, Julius burst onto the stage and attacked her, leaving her lying on the ground—