The storms brought no relief for southern Virginia in late July. And the next day dawned with steam rising off the roads and rocks.

Tourmaline picked Virginia up on time, with the morning thrushes and not many words. They mowed wet grass until it clumped on their sneakers and stuck to their legs. In silence, they loaded the trailers, switched trucks, and parked down below the road, off in the brush.

On foot, the climb took hours.

The day was sizzling—bringing a heavy blanket of cornflower-blue haze over the mountains and under the dappled canopy of trees and thickets. Sweat poured down Tourmaline’s back and off her face, until she thought there couldn’t be any more sweat left in her body. But she didn’t waver, and her steps stayed an even, relaxed pace on the rocky incline.

This had to be done. Even if Wayne caught them (he couldn’t), or it didn’t work (it would), she had to try. She had to ignore those doubts and at least take a first step.

But the higher they went, the more aware she became of a second step always behind hers and a second breath always between her own.

“Why don’t you stay down here?” Tourmaline asked Virginia when they stopped for water. “I can finish this myself. You’ve brought me far enough.”

Virginia just screwed the cap back on the bottle and shook her head. Hauling her backpack over her shoulder, she moved on.

It was one thing for Virginia to help get her to this point, but another thing entirely for her to go any farther when they were so close to Wayne and the risk of getting caught. It would turn ugly instantly if Wayne so much as heard one of their breaths. Tourmaline caught up. “Listen. Virginia . . .”

Virginia shook her head again, put her finger to her mouth, and sped up.

Tourmaline was still trying to figure out how to get Virginia to wait behind, when she sighted the cabin. Pulling Virginia’s elbow, she brought them down into the brush.

“Where?” Virginia whispered.

Tourmaline pointed. “You have to let me do this alone.”

“Oh, stop. I’ve got a stake in this, too, don’t forget.” Virginia hauled off the backpack and dug through it, pulling out two sets of latex gloves they’d taken from Tourmaline’s father’s stash in the garage.

“You said you would help. You’ve helped.”

Virginia unwrapped the T-shirt and held out the .38.

Tourmaline suddenly panicked as she pulled on the gloves. “Shit. Did we even check if it was loaded?”

Virginia blinked.

Tourmaline’s stomach seized tight and she held her breath and opened the cylinder. Loaded. Four rounds.

“Oh, thank God,” Virginia whispered. “Hopefully Hazard’s prints are in there.”

“We are dumb,” Tourmaline muttered, pushing the cylinder in. She grimaced and then shook it off, trying not to let the momentary panic linger or take a hold in her body as an omen. It didn’t mean anything. It’d been fine.

“It’s okay. It worked out.” Virginia sank back on her heels. “You ready?”

Tourmaline straightened and met her gaze. “I want you to leave.”

“No. We agreed to do this together.”

“You’ve done enough. I don’t want you to risk getting caught.”

“Then just tell yourself I’m here to make sure you don’t screw it up.”

“I’m not going to screw it up,” Tourmaline whispered, eyes narrowed.

“You’re going to. Without me. Now, are you ready or are we just going to argue all day?”

Tourmaline gritted her teeth and frowned. “Yes. Fine. I’m ready.”

“You sure?”

Tourmaline met her eyes and nodded.

Virginia flinched and took a deep breath. Her gaze flickered from the cabin to Tourmaline and then she frowned and leaned closer. She sighed and frowned at the house. “You should let me do it.”

They could not be having this argument right now. “Nope,” Tourmaline said firmly. “If I don’t take care of this, someone else will. Someone will take my fate.”

Virginia crossed her arms. “I get that.” She nodded jerkily, lip trembling. “I get that.”

“What is there left to do instead?” Tourmaline whispered. “I have nothing. Nothing to do to save myself.”

“I’ll take this,” Virginia whispered smoothly, taking the gun back and sticking it in her shorts. “And you’re going to give him something he wants more than revenge.”

His freedom. Freedom was what they all wanted. It was far riskier than setting him up, but it was the only thing to do—offer Wayne his freedom. To promise the Wardens wouldn’t touch him if he left her alone—something Tourmaline suddenly realized Wayne had no guarantee of. We will take care of him. Wayne had known. He’d hidden in the bushes under the bridge at the sound of a motorcycle, not because of the cop. He’d been hunted and cornered, and his fear twisted with his desire for revenge. He was a piece of shit, but he was a piece of shit Tourmaline would always have to remember, even if he went back to prison. Especially if she sent him back to prison.

Tourmaline flinched and ducked her chin. She took a deep breath to calm herself, and the air smelled like chemicals and shit and decaying leaves. Her stomach churned and threatened to rise in her throat. She didn’t want to offer Wayne safety. It was a risk. It could change. What if he didn’t want freedom more than he wanted to kill her? What if he came back? Those were risks she didn’t want to live with.

But Virginia was right. This history was something she could never be rid of. Wayne would always be part of who she was and who she’d become. Even if she killed him, she wouldn’t be freeing herself from that. And that was what she truly wanted.

Not to be free of this place.

But to have never been here to begin with.

Tourmaline nodded.

Virginia squeezed her hand. “Your fate cannot be taken. No one else can change it but you. It’s a gift.”

Tourmaline rolled her eyes. “You got my six?”

“Like no one ever has.”

Carefully, they made their way toward the stick house.

The trees stood still. The bugs droned in the midday heat. Tourmaline’s hands were sweaty. The cabin stayed fixed in her sight.

Looking up, she found Virginia standing motionless beside a thick oak tree.

Tourmaline nodded. Her heart thumped so hard she was afraid it was vibrating in her hands, but she carefully stepped up the porch stairs. The cabin door was ajar. Had it been like that the whole time? Behind her, she heard the soft click of Virginia rechecking the barrel. Her breath quickened. Her heart thumped.

The porch squeaked under her shoes, but nothing in the cabin moved. The door still ajar, a sliver of absolute black.

The hairs on the back of her neck prickled. She swallowed. Gently, she nudged the door open.

The door hit something soft and heavy.