"What if he''s not dead?"


    "Who''s not dead?"


    "Who?"


    For a split second, M wondered if she''d misheard. As the words sank in, she couldn''t help thinking Eugene had lost his mind.


    Her instinct was to refute him-anyone would. But when she opened her mouth, for reasons she couldn''t exin, what came out was not a denial but a question. "What... do you mean?"


    She didn''t even know why she asked.


    It was almost a reflex-questioning, but not denying.


    Eugene said nothing, a heavy silence settling between them, their breathing the only sound echoing down the phone line.


    After what felt like ages, she finally heard Eugene''s voice again, calm and collected. "It''s nothing, M. I''m a little out of it today, just talking nonsense. It''s a hypothetical. I just wanted to know how you felt about my brother... Never mind. Don''t worry about it. I''ll call you when I''m in a better state."


    He rambled through a muddled exnation, then hung up.


    M didn''t stop him. She wanted to-wanted to call out and demand answers- but her throat felt blocked, no sounding out at all.


    Or maybe it was instinct-she was afraid to ask.


    She didn''t know.


    Students streamed past her in the dorm hallway, the air buzzing with chatter and footsteps, but to M, the world felt utterly silent. Her hand, still holding the phone pressed to her ear, was frozen in ce. It wasn''t until a jostling student bumped into her, knocking her phone from her numb fingers, that she snapped out of it.


    Before she could bend down to retrieve it, the student who''d bumped her picked it up, handing it back with an apologetic smile. "Sorry about that. Didn''t see you there..."


    M took the phone, dazed, not quite sure if she''d heard him or not, shaking her head as if to clear it. She turned away in a fog, nearly walking into a tree by the sidewalk more than once before she finally managed to pull herself together. She realized in this state, there was no way she could drive home safely.


    She''d probably get into an ident.


    So she called for a ride.


    Waiting beside her car, she couldn''t help but rey Eugene''s words in her mind. He''d imed he was speaking nonsense, that she shouldn''t take it seriously, but she couldn''t let it go. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn''t shake the feeling that something was off.


    It wasn''t the first time she''d felt this way.


    But how could it be possible?


    He died right in front of her, in her arms.


    The images from that night''s party reyed in her mind, each detail slowing down: the scattering roses-red and ck-the man''s body copsing to the floor, her hands slick with blood... blood everywhere... blood?


    M looked down at her hands, syed open in herp, an odd sense of dread swelling inside her, like she was on the verge of piercing some dense fog but couldn''t find the way through.


    Blood?


    What about the blood?


    She was still lost in thought when a familiar voice jolted her back to reality. "Chairman Suthend?"


    Startled, she looked up to find


    Leonard standing in front of her. For


    a brief moment, she thought she


    saw concern flicker in his usually emotionless eyes, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared, his face


    returning to its usual calm detachment.


    M hardly noticed.


    She opened the back door of the car, then paused, turning back, confused. "Why


    are you here?" She was sure she''d called a driver.


    "It''s not safe to get rides alone at night," he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.


    M didn''t answer.


    She stared at him for a long moment, her grip tightening on the car door handle. After a pause, she got in without another word, her face impassive.


    But her mind was in turmoil.


    Maybe it was the shock of the call, or maybe it was the overwhelming sense of déjà vu, but she stayed silent the entire ride. Even after she got home and locked the door behind her, her heart was pounding, her blood rushing in her ears.


    She went straight to her study.


    She rummaged through the shelves in the corner until she found a finely carved wooden box and took out an antique dagger, its hilt studded with emeralds.


    A gift from Lysander, back in Rome.


    The sharpest de she owned.


    After the events in Rome, she''d locked it away, never expecting to need it again. But now, unsettled and anxious, she wasn''t even sure what she was afraid of.


    She carried the dagger upstairs and tucked it under her pillow. She was exhausted from everything that had happened, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn''t sleep.


    She sat on the edge of the bed, staring into space.


    Eventually, she texted her hacker friend-the one she''d known for years, whose odd hours meant it was always easier to reach him at night than during the day.


    She needed an answer for something she''d asked about before.


    Back when Sophia had lost control and attacked someone, M hadn''t believed Leonard''s exnation for the call that stopped her so she''d quietly asked her friend to investigate.


    She wanted to know who was behind it.


    At the time, it was just a hunch and she hadn''t pushed too hard, but now, the more she thought about it, the stranger it seemed. She was done waiting.


    Her friend replied almost immediately.


    [Whoever''s behind it has top-level security and anti-tracing. I can''t break through without tipping them off. Do you want me to keep going?]


    One phone call.


    Just one call, and this much effort to cover their tracks? They''d said it was a rtive from the Pembroke family, but the Pembrokes weren''t involved in government, and it was a private line why would someone goto such lengths to stop Sophia fromshing out?