“I’m sorry,” I sobbed as Mercer raised his rifle. “I’m so sorry.”

Noelle wasn’t listening to me anymore. Instead she focused on Elliott, her fingers tangled in his hair, her lips brushing against his ear, and her entire body molding against his, as if she were trying to be as close to him as possible. This was how she wanted to spend her last moments, and I had no place in it.

I turned away. Two shots cracked through the streets, one right after the other, and then—

Silence.

It was over.

There were no more fights that evening. Guards cleared Noelle’s and Elliott’s bodies away as the crowd dispersed, and the two men holding me set me down on the other side of the railing with a stern warning to get to my bunkhouse. I stood there for a long moment, as numb as ever as the world seemed to cave in on me all over again.

“You shouldn’t have told her about the Blackcoats.”

I turned slowly. If I moved too fast, everything would shatter, and my grip on the here and now was fragile enough already. Scotia stood two long strides away, her arms crossed loosely over her chest. Nothing about her blank expression or relaxed shoulders indicated she had just watched two innocent people die because of her.

It was her apathy that made something snap inside me, and before I realized what I was doing, I crossed the distance between us and grabbed her jacket, shoving her as hard as my wrung-out body could manage.

“I was trying to help her!” My voice rang through the empty streets. “She needed hope—she needed to know things were going to be okay, and instead you killed her.”

Scotia tried to grab my hands, but I pulled back against her thumbs, releasing her grip. For several seconds we grappled for control, me trying to shove her again while she tried to subdue me. She lurched, and suddenly my feet disappeared out from under me.

I hit the ground hard, and the air whooshed out of my lungs, leaving me breathless. I struggled to inhale, the pain and pressure in my chest making it impossible, and Scotia knelt beside me. She pinned my arms to the ground, and when I tried to kick, she sat on my thighs, pressing my legs into the freezing dirt. Her movements were labored, but she was still strong, and I went limp underneath her.

“Noelle was the snitch,” she said, hovering over me. “She’s been snitching to Williams ever since she moved into the section. She was the one who ratted out Chelsea, and she’s responsible for another sixteen deaths in the past year.”

My lungs burned, and I struggled to speak. “But—”

“In this place, you’ve got to look out for yourself, and that’s what Noelle was doing. I’m not saying she didn’t have her good side, and I’m not saying I’m any better than her. But I am saying if she’d told Williams about the Blackcoats, Williams would have gone to Mercer, and everything would have been ruined.”

My vision blurred, and I stared at Scotia as her words sunk in. “She wouldn’t have said anything.” I had to believe that as much as I needed air. “She—she wouldn’t have told anyone.”

“And you know that for sure?” Scotia leveled her stare at me. “You’re willing to risk the entire rebellion on your opinion of someone you’ve known for a day?”

“I—” I faltered, and although I hated myself for it, my eyes welled up. “She wouldn’t have done that to me.”

“Yes, she would have,” said Scotia. “And she would have skipped all the way to Mercer Manor. You were her big fish. The moment she spotted you doing something out of line, you would have been in that cage, and she would have been putting on a crisp new guard uniform. The sooner you accept that, the easier this will be for you.”

Hot tears rolled down my cheeks as a battle waged inside me. The rational part of me that could step back and see the situation for what it was knew Scotia was almost certainly right. Noelle herself had admitted that she wanted to be a guard, and she’d even told me exactly what she had to do to become one. I’d been naive to trust her as much as I had—it wasn’t a coincidence she’d befriended me, and as I ran through the past day in my mind, I couldn’t remember a single instance of her having a conversation with someone else. Everyone had known she was the snitch, and they’d steered clear of her. I hadn’t been so lucky.

But the part of me that understood her—that looked at her and saw the person I would have been if I hadn’t been lucky enough to wind up in society despite being an Extra—that part of me had just witnessed my own death, mine and Benjy’s, and I couldn’t process it. Noelle hadn’t been a bad person to me. She’d been the only friend I had in this place—and even if her friendship had been a charade, it had felt real to me. It still did, and the pain of watching her die wasn’t lessened by learning the real story behind her warmth. If anything, it only made me feel worse for mourning someone who had caused so many others to die.

No. Noelle hadn’t created the system. She’d taken advantage of it, but she wasn’t the enemy. She was a product of her environment, and all she’d wanted was the same thing I did—to be with the person she loved most.

It was this place that was the problem. It was Elsewhere. It was the guards, the Mercers, the Harts—they were the ones responsible for taking decent people and turning them into the worst versions of themselves. They were the ones responsible for this mass slaughter and waste of human life, and they were the ones who were going to pay.