I stared at the hole blasted through the dresser and I couldn’t finish the sentence.

“I know very well who’s responsible for this, Miss Chloe.” Tori’s mom turned that snarl on me. “Though I don’t doubt you played your role. You’re quite the little instigator, aren’t you?”

“Diane, that’s enough,” Dr. Davidoff snapped from the doorway. “Help your daughter clean up her mess. Chloe, come with me.”

Instigator? Me? Two weeks ago, I would have laughed at the thought. But now…Tori said this all started with me, with the guys wanting to save the helpless little girl. I hated that idea. Yet she had a point.

Derek had wanted Simon to leave Lyle House and find their dad. Simon wouldn’t leave Derek, who refused to go because he was afraid he’d hurt someone else. When Derek figured out I was a necromancer, he found his weapon to beat down Simon’s defenses. One damsel in distress, to go.

I was the poor girl who didn’t know anything about being a necromancer, who kept making mistakes, getting closer and closer to being shipped off to a mental hospital. See her, Simon? She’s in danger. She needs your help. Take her, find Dad, and he’ll fix everything.

I’d been furious with Derek, and I’d called him on it. But I hadn’t refused to go along with the plan. We needed Simon’s dad—all of us did. Even Derek, who’d eventually joined us when our escape had been uncovered and he had no choice.

If I’d known what was going to happen, would I have stopped searching for answers back at Lyle House? Would I have accepted the diagnosis, taken my meds, shut up, and gotten released?

No. Harsh truth was better than comfortable lies. It had to be.

Dr. Davidoff took me back to my room, and I told myself I was fine with that. I needed to be alone so I could try again to contact Liz, now that I knew she was still around.