It's quiet then, sitting before the mirror. He hadn't asked the right questions in Brooklyn, and she hadn't helped him find them--but knowing that she succeeded someplace, that she will succeed, there's no reason to hide the truth. Every choice she makes leads to death, one way or another. But at least it's her death, not the boots or bullets or flames of someone else consuming her.

"Did you find Scott? Please." Ruth's leaning in, hair falling around her face, like she's peering at him. (She's not. He's angry enough without more blood smeared on her skin.)