"You can kill me now."

She seems so happy announcing it.

"Not here, of course," she goes on, "because Nicole isn't stupid at all, not when she's not exposed to the effect of you two, and she would know. But I'll go anywhere you want me to, and we can make it look like an accident."

I refuse to answer. She shrugs and carries on with her version.

"It's a pity that I don't drive," she says. "Everyone would believe that I died in an accident, knowing the lunatic I am. Well, that's why I don't drive, on second thought."

I keep staring at her. I refuse to think, just allow her words to flow through my mind without making an effort to understand them.

"I'm sorry if I'm not creative enough at the moment, but this day was too much for me," she apologizes. "I'm utterly exhausted. My nerves want me to crawl into a corner, sit in a fetal position, rocking back and forth, and do nothing else in the next three days. But you certainly can come up with something good, can't you?"

She's not wrong. I can come up with something good. It involves a fetal position and a corner, too, though I prefer to do it without rocking.

"Or do you want to kidnap me?" she asks, spreading her hands. "Killing me is easier, I guess. You're winning, right? And when you're winning, re-arranging the game board would be a risky strategy."

If she was holding a mirror, I could break it. But her words are that mirror.

"Will you shut up for a second, until I decide what I want?" I groan. "Since when have you become a fucking chatterbox?"

"Since Tobey was kidnapped," she answers cordially.

I keep forgetting her habit of taking everything literally.

"Killing me would also make sure that—"

"Will you stop talking about your death, please?" I yell at her. "I'm trying to think here!"

"Okay, I just—"

"You just shut up, okay?!"

My tone scares me. I sound like one of those movie villains, just before going postal. Rudeness might be the tools of my trade, but I prefer the commanding version, not the deranged.

I breathe out in a long and noisy way. Gabriel does the same.

"Thank you for stopping me," she says, sounding honestly grateful. "I thought I'd never get rid of this fucking rattling, and I'd become someone else for the rest of my life."

I mumble something, palming my face.

"But it's time for you to decide," she says. "We made a deal."

"Look, I'm sorry. I don't want to kill you or kidnap you, all right?"

"Are you sure?" she asks.

If it weren't apparent that she's too worn out to behave like her usual self, I'd think that she's making fun of me, or she wants to talk me into a panic attack. With a brain like hers, it's impossible not to notice how her words make me feel. Like the spirit of desperation's taking over me, that's how. When one of those spirits is hovering over your head is like this, according to reliable sources.

"100% sure," I tell her.

"All right. Was it a favor, then?"

"No. I want something in return."

She furrows her brow. Only God knows what she's thinking about, but whatever it may be, she doesn't like it.

"Okay," she says hesitantly. "What is it?"

I try to come up with something. Something realistic. Something that doesn't make her anxious.

"You can ask me anything," she reminds me. "I have no way to say no, right? You kinda own my life, so, logically, it makes anything that doesn't involve my death a less valuable item in the bargain."

I close my eyes to get rid of all the unwanted ideas. Nothing that would make her anxious, I said. I wish my stupid brain would respect the boundaries I set. Or her boundaries, at least, dammit.

"I want to know your real name," I tell her, after careful consideration.

"My name?"

"Yes. Not the one the Agency gave you. Your original one."

She raises her brows but doesn't dispute my choice.

"Okay. I'm called Elise."

I grin involuntarily. It's such a cute name. It definitely fits her better than Edie.

"You know, the Agency has the practice to give a name that sounds like the original, to make it easier for us to get used to it," she explains. "Keeping the initials and stuff like that."

"It fits you."

"Thank you."

Her smile makes me weak. I clear my throat and take a step back.

"I hope Tobey will be okay," I squeeze out.

"So do I," she says, taking a step back, too. I know that she's just mimicking me, another habit of hers I should get used to. I refuse to flatter myself thinking that she wants to break free from my closeness.

"Nothing terrible happened to him, right?" she asks.

"He was watching TV with the guys."

"What show?"

"I didn't pay attention." I shrug. "Sorry. I was busy knocking out three men in two seconds, in a way that's not characteristic enough for them to identify me."

"It doesn't sound that hard."

"No? Have you tried that?"

"Not that hard for you," she says, sounding displeased.

"It wasn't porn," I assure her. "They were shooting, I guess."

She rolls her eyes. I spread my hands.

"You can't seriously expect my men to watch age-appropriate content, right?"

"There are very good cartoons," she offers.

"Okay, I'll tell the guys to keep that in mind in case they kidnap children again. They won't, just to be sure. And if they do, I'll bring the kids back, again, so..."

I'm blabbering.

"Or if someone kidnaps you, I can too... you know. If someone else kidnaps you, I mean. Not me."

Stop. Blabbering. Now. My stupid brain refuses to collaborate, but direct orders may still work.

"Who else would kidnap me?" Gabriel asks. Or Elise. Now that I know her name, for some reason, I feel the urge to repeat it all the time. "And why?"

"Just to be with you."

She furrows her brow.

"No," I correct myself. "Not for that reason, obviously. Not at all. That would be stupid. Just to prevent you from working with Duke. Or with someone else. Not him. Someone else."

She watches me with her usual impassionate gaze, as if she's studying my reactions. I feel like a bug on a pin. Like I'm nothing to her, just a circumstance she must calculate with. An item in her equation. Which I am, probably.

"Sorry for disturbing your perfect life," I tell her. "Of course, no one will kidnap you or your kids. You won't need me to bring Tobey back again."

"I know," she says.

It sounds final. She paid her dues; I can go now.

"And I know, too," I sigh. "I'm not your lamb anymore. Goodbye, Elise."

She rolls her eyes again. She has zero sense of dramatic farewells.

"I told you already, Mint. As long as you live, you are. Will you please start to take the things I say, seriously?"

"How could I?"

My question surprises us both. I knew it was in the back of my mind but I never planned to voice it. I bite my tongue to make me shut up, but it's too late for that.

"You promised that you wouldn't let any of us get lost," I say.

"And?"

"And you died," I burst out. "You died, fuck you! That very moment you did let me get lost."

I clap my hand on my mouth. There must be a way to keep myself from blabbering on.

"I'm sorry, Mint. I had to get away. I know that you—"

"You know fucking nothing," I interrupt her. "Everything is your fault! Even the things happening now are your fault!"

"Mint—"

"You should apologize, at least! Sorry, Mint, for turning you into this, fuck you! The hand that was supposed to lead you to safety led you somewhere else, right? Did you calculate this, too, before you turned your back on us?"

"No, I didn't."

I try to stop, but I can't. My anger's been suppressed for too long. My words have been held back for too long.

"And now," I carry on, "now you're telling me that I should kill you! How dare you? How more cynical can you get? Are you enjoying this?"

"No, I'm not. I'm just telling you what needs to be told. I always do that. I say the things that make us follow the safest route to where we all need to get, without fail. I'm sorry for causing you pain in the process; it's just a side effect of—"

"Collateral damage, right? I'm not important."

"Well, you are." She has the audacity to smile. " For everyone. For the whole world."

"Fuck the whole world. I don't care for the world."

I refrain from continuing with the rest of the sentence. Successfully, this time. I'm seriously disgusted with myself, and it helps me to swallow my words.

"I failed to foresee you, becoming the public enemy," she says, "because I refused to calculate the events after my departure. I'm responsible for keeping you alive. For everything else—"

"No," I inform her, trying to sound much calmer than I am. "You're not responsible for my life, either. You weren't there when I needed you to protect it. Or, at least, not to put it in danger, with—"

"I know."

"So you don't need to look after me," I state. "I'm not yours anymore."

"I know."

"Will it stop you from trying to save my life all the time?"

"No, it won't."

Her quiet determination makes my head explode.

I give her shoulder a push. She falls.

I can't believe it. Even Tobey could resist such a light nudge. Her sense of balance must be seriously lacking.

I move to gather her from the ground, but I freeze mid-motion.

I count to ten, gritting my teeth. It's time to sever all ties. They're imaginary ties, anyway, as imaginary as her duty is. They exist in my mind only.

"Will you stop protecting me now?" I ask her without stepping closer.

She shakes her head.

"You're hopeless," I snap.

She nods as if it's self-evident.

I leave her there, sitting on the floor, without looking back.