For the rest of the story, we're going to rotate between Hunter and Jude, so heads up!

JUDE

Hunter is here.

The radio crackles in my hand, my mother's voice still echoing in my ears.

Hello, Jude.

"I thought you were dead!" I say, and maybe I should feel relieved. Or grateful. Or amazed.

But all of those words are reserved for people who don't have mothers that faked their deaths.

Because it's clear now—that is what she did.

My mother knew that by signing the note with Mom, I would be suspicious. I would eventually lead myself to the Wolves, and maybe she knew . . . maybe she knew I'd come to the conclusion Anise had pointed me towards.

That she was dead.

"Jude, I missed you," says my mother.

"I don't understand. I don't understand, Mom."

"I did what was best for you," she says, and it sounds like she is almost . . . upset. "I did what I had to!"

"How was making me believe you were dead for the best?" I snarl into the radio.

I hear a faint static—a crackle—over the radio.

"Because I—" The sound cuts. Fuzzy. "I—want you to know—I made a deal—Yakuza—before you were born—when your turn twenty-two—"

The radio goes silent.

"No!" I scream. Shaking it. "No! Mom! No!"

It is no use. I am talking to a void—to the storm and the sky.

The rain is falling hard now, and I squint through the water towards the dock. I can barely see anything except for the silhouettes of people.

Is Hunter there? Is she looking for me?

There is a fog rising. The wind that sweeps over the ship is cold and bitter, and my teeth begin to chatter.

"There's nothing we can do now," says Alistair harshly. "We can only wait."

"There has to be something," I shout. "Our hands are free! We're not helpless. We can—"

"What?" says Alisa, her bright eyes devoid of warmth. "Jump out? Swim? With a tide like that in a storm like this?"

Daniel has finally woken, his hollow eyes feverish.

"What about steering this thing ourselves? We can—"

"No," Alistair says. "They never meant for this ship to come back from the harbor."

And he points to the starboard. Showing us that the steering wheel and the controls have been entirely removed.

We're going to die aboard this ship, I think.

Frustrated, eyes sparking with tears, I kick the wooden side of the boat.

"They're going to kill us," I snap. "They're going to kill us all, and there's nothing we can do about it!"

"I'm glad you're so optimistic," Daniel says.

I have never, never, in my life felt this helpless.

Nothing I know is useful now. Because what is taekwondo, what is karate, against a ship loaded with grenades?

What is my fist against a bomb that will incinerate us in seconds?

Hunter, I think. My only hope is Hunter.

But if she makes it aboard, then she will die, too.

We really, truly will not survive to see the end of this day.

And the rain is falling hard now. I look up to the sky, letting the clouds shower over me, letting the world thunder and roil above me.

We're going to die.

I never got to finish my bucket list.

I will never become a CIA agent.

I will never make love in a Venetian gondola.

I will never create a new identity in a foreign country.

I will never fake my death and move to Paris.

I will never bungee jump off the Leaning Tower of Pisa.

I will never go to Tokyo, Japan.

I will never rob a bank and get away with it.

I will never tell Hunter I love her.

And there are other things, too—things I need to add to my bucket list.

I will never graduate university.

I'll never finish my first book.

I'll never get married.

I will never have a family with Hunter.

I will never grow old. For the next fifty years, I will not wake up next to Hunter and look into her blue eyes and love her more than yesterday. Because there is no longer any tomorrow.

And I know who she is now—the little girl.

She has been here all along.

She is the girl I love. And I will never get the chance to tell her.

Hunter is who I've been looking for. Hunter is my past and my present. But she will never be my future—not after today.

I hope she doesn't come.

If it has to be one of us, then I am glad it is me.

And if it ends like this . . . with the sky pouring and the ocean churning and the world spinning, then it's okay. Because at least she's alive—at least she still has the chance to be happy.

She'll never know I loved her.

Maybe it's better that way.

"Where is the bomb?" I shout over the rising wind.

"Belowdeck," says Alisa, her eyes widening. "What are you—Jude? What are you doing?"

"I'm going to blow us the fuck up," I say through my teeth. "We're all going to die anyway. Let it be on our terms—without including the people we love."

"You can't," Alistair seethes. "You little—"

But I stand my ground. This is the right thing to do.

Sacrifice—to save the lives of the people who are coming to save us.

"No, she's right," Alisa says in a choked voice. "She's right. We have to do this now, before all of us die. There's no way off this ship—we know that. We're only a trap, waiting to spring. Let's do this now. Jude is right."

"Are you out of your fucking mind?" Alistair says, spitting rain out of his mouth.

"Yes," I say calmly. "I'm willing to die to save Hunter."

Even if she never knows—even if I never get to tell her I love her.

"Then let's do this," says Daniel hollowly.

"Let's explode this motherfucking ship," I agree.

>>>

Why am I actually stressed out right now? I know what's going to happen. Actually, forget it, that doesn't even console me right now.

From the moon and back,
Sarai