Amanda was lost for words. Just because Alain stepped in to defend her, and got carried away, that didn’t mean he was still evil. She spread out her arms, as if to say, “Really?” but Lydia refused to give up.
“I have to try,” she insisted. She twisted her hair into a messy bun, and looked away, trying to calm down. “Amanda, she’s just so young! Do I have a better argument than that? I don’t. But it can’t be too late…you know? Please! Please, give me a chance to help her. Vote for me.”
Amanda shook her head. Her bestie was so desperate. Come what may, Lydia needed to try whatever it was that she had in mind, or she wouldn’t be at peace with herself. What’s more, Amanda suddenly realized that she, too, could not bring herself to vote for an immediate call to the Committee. She’d already taken a life. Ordering Miguel to shoot Rudolph Wojtek was a decision that she’d been wondering about. Had she truly had that right? Did she, Amanda Griffith, Sentinel 10 or not, have the right to end a life? It had been a necessary and, in any case, inevitable decision, and yet…although she wasn’t tormented by it, she didn’t like the memory.
Her resistance crumpled. “Fine,” she said. “You win. I’m skeptical, but on the off chance that you are right, you have my vote.” She sighed. “I suppose we could keep an eye on Cynthia, and if bad things continue to happen, we’ll know your plan didn’t work. The Committee has enough resources to keep watch over her.”
“Yes! Yes, exactly!” Lydia tapped her approval on the table, but Amanda wasn’t done.
“But Lydia, here’s the thing: Whoever dies next will be our fault—yours and mine—for not putting an end to it when we had the chance.
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