Now my chance was over, and I couldn’t even earn an average IV. Instead of living that meaningful life I’d been promised since before I could remember, I’d managed a III. There was nothing special about me—I was just another Extra who, according to the government, should have never been born in the first place.

I was a waste.

Worst of all, as much as I wanted to hate them for my III, it wasn’t the government’s fault. Everyone had an equal shot, and I’d blown mine. Now I had to live with the shame of having a permanent record of my failure tattooed onto the back of my neck for everyone to see, and I wasn’t so sure I could do it.

Benjy and I had nearly reached the exit when a weedy man dressed in a Shield uniform stepped in front of me, his arm outstretched as he silently demanded my loot. The pistol holstered to his side left me no choice.

“I found it on the ground,” I lied as I forked over the orange. “I was about to return it to the merchant.”

“Of course you were,” said the Shield, and he rotated his finger, a clear sign he wanted me to turn around. Benjy dropped his arm, and panic spread through me, white-hot and urging me to run.

But if I took off, he might blame Benjy, and all I could hope for now was that my stupid decision didn’t affect him, too. Benjy had a month to go before he turned seventeen, and until then, he wouldn’t be held responsible for his actions. Until that morning, I hadn’t been either.

The stares of the crowd made my cheeks burn as I turned and gathered my dirty-blond hair away from the nape of my neck. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t hide the mark or the angry red blotch that surrounded it, still painful from the needle that had etched my rank into my skin.

Benjy stiffened at the sight of my III. I stared straight ahead, unable to look him in the eye.

The man brushed his fingertips against the mark, feeling the three ridges underneath that proved it wasn’t altered. Satisfied, he dropped his hand. “Is she telling the truth?” he said, and Benjy nodded, not missing a beat.

“Yes, sir. We were on our way to the stall now.” Benjy twisted around to give him a glimpse of his bare neck. “We’re only here to look around.”

The Shield grunted, and he tossed the orange in the air and caught it. I scowled. Was he going to let me go or force me to my knees and shoot me? Less than five feet away, browned blood from another thief still stained the ground. I forced myself not to look.

Maybe he’d send me Elsewhere instead, but I doubted it. The bastard looked trigger-happy.

“I see,” he said. He leaned in closer to me, and I wrinkled my nose at his sour breath. “Did you know your eyes are the same shade as Lila Valentine’s?”

Lila Valentine, the niece of the Prime Minister, was so wildly popular that hardly a week went by when someone didn’t mention that the bizarre blue shade of my eyes matched hers.

“No,” I said through gritted teeth. “Never heard that before in my life.”

The Shield straightened. “What’s your name?”

“Kitty Doe,” I said, trying to keep the snarl out of my voice. No one with an ounce of self-preservation talked to a Shield like that, but after what had happened this morning, I didn’t have it in me to kiss anyone’s ass.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Benjy frown, and I could almost hear his silent question. What do you think you’re doing?

Stupidly risking my life, that’s what.

The Shield stroked his pistol. “Stay put. Move, and I’ll kill you, got it?”

I nodded mutely. Not like I could tell him no, after all.

The man turned his back, slipping through the crowd and putting several people between us. Benjy touched my elbow, and our eyes met. No need for words. I knew exactly what he was thinking.

Without hesitating, we bolted.

Acknowledgments

Writing the conclusion to Kate Winters’ story is one of the hardest and most rewarding things I’ve ever done, but it would have never been possible without the enthusiasm and support of readers.

So first and foremost, thank you—yes, you—for reading this series. I could have never done this without you.

In addition, I’d like to acknowledge and thank the following people:

As always, I would be nowhere without my magical agent, Rosemary Stimola, and her endless knowledge and support.

The entire Harlequin TEEN team, especially my incredible editor, Mary-Theresa Hussey, senior editor Natashya Wilson, and PR extraordinaire Lisa Wray. Thank you all for taking a chance on these books.

Caitlin Straw, for putting up with me every step of the way.

The ever-growing community of YA bloggers, especially those who supported this series from the beginning.

All of my writer friends, especially Courtney Allison Moulton, Carrie Harris, Lauren DeStefano, Sarah J. Maas, and Melissa Anelli.

All of the people in my life who have ever listened to me ramble about writing, especially Nick Navarre, Ally Hess, Kendall Basore, and Kristine Kempl.

The mother council, including Karla Olson-Bellfi, Barb Zdan, Mary Sweet, Lisa Rutledge, Mary Robert, and Sue Edwards-Haesler.

But most of all, I want to thank my father, Richard Carter, for all of his sacrifice, support, and corny jokes. You’re the best dad I could ever ask for. Love you most.

Keep reading for an excerpt from Goddess Interrupted by Aimée Carter!

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Prologue

Calliope trudged through the sunny field as she ignored the babble of the redhead trailing behind her. Ingrid was the first mortal who had tried to pass the test to become Henry’s wife, and maybe if he’d spent more than five minutes a day with her, Henry would’ve understood why Calliope had killed her.

“You’re in for a treat,” said Ingrid, scooping up a rabbit from the tall grass and hugging it to her chest. “Everything’s going to bloom at noon.”

“Like it did yesterday?” said Calliope. “And the day before that? And the day before that?”

Ingrid beamed. “Isn’t it beautiful? Did you see the butterflies?”

“Yes, I saw the butterflies,” said Calliope. “And the deer. And every other pointless piece of your afterlife.”

A dark cloud passed over Ingrid’s face. “I’m sorry you think it’s stupid, but it’s my afterlife, and I like it this way.”

It took a great deal of effort, but Calliope fought off the urge to roll her eyes. Upsetting Ingrid would only make things worse, and at the rate this was going, it would be ages before Calliope got out of here. “You’re right,” she said tightly. “It’s only that I never spend any time in this realm, so the process is unfamiliar to me.”

Ingrid relaxed and ran her fingers through the rabbit’s fur. “Of course you don’t spend time here,” she said with a giggle that set Calliope’s teeth on edge. “You’re a goddess. You can’t die. Unlike me,” she added, skipping across a few feet of meadow. “But it wasn’t as bad as I thought it’d be.”

If that idiot of a girl knew a damn thing, she’d have known that Calliope wasn’t just any goddess. She was one of the original six members of the council, before they’d had children and the council had expanded. Before her husband had decided fidelity was beneath him. Before they’d started handing out immortality like it was candy. She was the daughter of Titans, and she wasn’t merely a goddess. She was a queen.