Now it was my turn to close my eyes.
“I didn’t tell the FBI. I didn’t tell Ivy.” I forced my lids open. “Did anyone else know? Any other students?”
Henry didn’t want to answer. I waited. And eventually, he spoke a single word around the tubing in his mouth, choking it out. “No.”
No, he hadn’t told anyone.
No, I couldn’t make him live with this guilt.
“You gave me your word,” I told him, my voice rough. “You know, and I know, but what we know doesn’t leave this room. Not when you give your statement. Not ever.”
Henry had been vulnerable. He’d been angry and powerless and alone, and Senza Nome had found him. They’d told him a truth he should have heard from me.
“I’m not doing this for you,” I told Henry. “I’m doing it for Asher and for Vivvie and Emilia and everyone at that school who will never be the same.” I pressed my lips together. “I’m doing it for your mom, and for Thalia, and for me.”
I didn’t forgive him. But he was Henry. And for the briefest of moments, he’d been mine.
“I’m doing this,” I said, “for a boy I used to know.”
A boy who’d been lied to. A boy who’d lost too much. A boy who had wanted justice. A boy who’d believed he was protecting the people he loved.
“This secret stays with us,” I said, trailing my fingers over his jaw one last time. “But, Henry? You and I are done.”
CHAPTER 66
Of all the things I expected to see when I exited Henry’s hospital room, the First Lady wasn’t high on the list.
Georgia Nolan was talking quietly to Ivy until she saw me. She murmured something to Ivy, then hung back as I approached.
“You okay?” Ivy asked.
I nodded. I wanted to mean it.
Ivy smoothed a hand over my hair. “If you’re up for it,” she said, “there’s one more person who wants to talk to you.”
The president of the United States was awake, aware, and fully vested with the power of his office. He was also still confined to a hospital bed. Unlike Henry, President Nolan was free of tubes. Beneath his hair, I could make out a long line of stitches that cut across the side of his head. The collar of his shirt revealed an expertly wrapped bandage underneath.
His shoulder? His chest? I tried not to imagine the bullet hitting the president.
I tried not to think about Henry and the moment he’d taken a bullet for me.
I forced my gaze up to the president’s face. His wife went to stand beside him, and that was the only cue that President Nolan needed to start speaking.
“I understand this country owes you a great debt,” the president told me. For someone who’d been in a coma, his voice was steady and strong. “I also understand that in my official capacity in this office, I can neither know the truth of what happened today, nor express my thanks for any role you may have played in it.”
If it wasn’t for me, Hardwicke might still be under terrorist control.
“The vice president will be resigning tomorrow,” President Nolan said, reminding me that if it wasn’t for the vice president’s actions, Daniela Nicolae might still be in federal custody, too. “He’ll cite family reasons. I suspect he and Marjorie will be anxious to take Anna home to New Hampshire.”
I’d spent enough time on the periphery of the political game to read between the lines of the president’s words. The vice president hadn’t resigned for family reasons, and he almost certainly hadn’t chosen to do so.
They’d forced his hand because he’d authorized Daniela’s release.
The vice president knew, I thought, thinking back to Anna’s father’s demeanor in that hallway. He knew this was how it would end.
The official story might be that Daniela Nicolae’s loyalties had flipped, that she’d died working for our country, but the president almost certainly knew the truth. He knew that Daniela was still a part of Senza Nome. That she was still out there, still pregnant. He won’t acknowledge that he knows. Officially, he can’t know.
But he did know. And given that he believed the baby she was carrying to be his granddaughter, I had to wonder if he was already unofficially looking for Daniela Nicolae, for that child.
“I don’t have to tell you,” the president said, “how important it is that you . . .”
“Keep my mouth closed?” I got the feeling that the president of the United States wasn’t used to being interrupted. “I know what I have to do,” I told the president. “And I know how to keep a secret.”