Page 90 of The Last Love Story

He’s alive.

Becka saunters over and stands next to Hux.

My heart skips a beat at the sight of him—ofthem—standing there before an empty theater.

President Graves rolls his eyes. “Is this supposed to be a thing? Your big move? Three people heard me. Wow.”

Hux cocks his head at me, and I can’t help but grin as his bloody lips stretch in a knowing grin. “Ripley?”

I uncurl my fingers. Because inside of my hand is the golden button.

The president didn’t rip it from Callum’s chest, because I’d already switched it. With the poker chip. The stomping probably crushed the little pincers that held it to Callum’s chest, but they held, as long as they needed to.

Hux lifts a phone, hitting Play.

Fat stupid lazy worthless creatures—

Fat, stupid, lazy, worthless,

Only have room for people at the top.

Sheep.

It blasts out at full volume into the theater, for the entire assembly of senators and wealthy elite. Becka holds up her phone.

“Oh,” she says sweetly. “They’ve autotuned it.”Sheep, the president’s garbled voice comes out.Sheep. Sheep.“Catchy.”

As Becka bops her head, President Graves seems to turn to a statue. His eyes find mine, and I can feel the sheer hatred rolling off of him in waves.

“You,” President Graves says. I lift my chin as I stare at him.Me. And he’s not wrong. Pride swells in my lungs. Damn right,me.

“Like you said, President Graves,” I say. “You should have thought ofthe optics.”

With a quick movement, faster than seems possible, he reaches in his coat and pulls out a blade. With one powerful lunge, he comes at me, the dagger poised above his head, catching the red, white, and blue stage lights.

“Ripley!”Hux shouts, his voice cracking with fear. His eyes are feral as he lunges forward.

I stumble back, as Graves freezes, knife still raised high. His chest shudders with a gasp as his eyes widen in shock. He stumbles, and I jump back as he falls forward to his knees, and then crashes down, rolling off the dais and landing on the stage below.

And then his chest doesn’t move again.

“Hux?” I whisper. “What did you do?”

Chapter 22

The president is dead, blood pooling across the presidential seal. Callum drops the blade from his hand. The same blade held to Hux’s throat, the one I dropped on the floor just minutes ago.

“You?” I breathe. He looks up, his hands shaking as he swallows hard.

“I-I couldn’t let him,” he says, staring down at his father’s body.

Suddenly, lights overhead burst into life, and the curtain gives a resolute jerk.

The vote. They’re opening the curtain to reveal the “results” of the vote.

“What do we do?” Callum whispers, looking to me, and then to Hux and Becka.

Outside, cheers break out, even as the puddle of blood seeps closer to the edge of the curtain.