Zoey’s POV

  I held one of the small glass vessels up to the last streaks of sunlight, turning it, inspecting it. Just water. Or, rather, it looked like water to me. No telltale, tiny swimming organisms, no unsettling odor, nothing to suggest it held anything more sinister than tap water. I spilt a tiny drop onto a clean sheet of paper. It vanished, leaving not even a ghost of a stain, no chemical residue, certainly no microscopic buddy wiggling into view. Not without a microscope, anyway. And that was the kicker. My gut screamed "something is off," but my scientist brain needed proof.

  Every single one of these virus vessels was the same. Clear. Odorless. Utterly, frustratingly benign. I slumped onto my bed, the setting sun painting my windowsill in shades of orange and pink, the dried drops on the paper now invisible. My suspicion was solidifying into a cold, hard fact: this was a con. Pure and simple. But why?

  I pick up one of the vessels again, there’s this weird impulse seizing me to inspect it one more time. Untwisting the cap, I slowly tip it, letting a few drops spill onto the sill. The cap slips from my fingers, hitting the polished wooden floor with a soft thud. Something tumbles out; a small, white object, no bigger than a Tic Tac, bounces out from underneath it, skittering beside my feet.

  My breath hitches. A pill. Not the capsule type. I can recognize it instantly—those quick-dissolving ones, the kind that tastes like that small pack of sugar-like chemical found in new shoes if you let it linger on your tongue for more than a second (Yes, I once tasted the sugar-like pack. Instant regret. Don’t ask.) Could the virus actually be in this? My mind is swirling with thoughts. Hunter never worked with pills. Never. His notes are evidence. He only wrote about gas formulas, cell structures, and bacterial blueprints—the usual. But pills? A big no. Also, I don't recall discussing the use of any kind of drugs on this job.

  I check the other four vessels. Underneath each cap, tucked away by a flimsy plastic disc, is another one of those white pills. Every single one. A bad feeling settles in my stomach, battling with a rising tide of fury. Maybe someone said something about drugs and I missed it?

  Once more, I dive through Hunter's notebook, flipping through the now well-memorized pages, desperate to find anything, anything, about pills. My fingers ruffle through sketches of mice and insects, diagrams of microscopic mayhem, formulas that could make your head spin. Nothing. Just as I anticipated.

  Only two people come to mind when I think of pills: Bryan, who has a mysterious stash for… well, I never quite knew what for. And Matilda, our local medic, if any of us ever got so much as a sniffle. But Matilda wouldn't be hiding them like this, and we definitely aren’t trying to cure anyone right now. Which leaves us with… Bryan.

  No. Bryan never pulls any shady tricks, at least to me. He is family. Him, Matilda, and Hunter—they are my family. And family doesn't try to hurt each other, right? Yet, something is seriously wrong here. The entire job feels off; throwing me into the mountains with these idiots, having five vessels of god-knows-what substance that one way or another would end up in our systems, and we're playing a silly game right after the blond asshole got shot.

  Okay, deep breath, let's focus on the present for now. I have two stark pieces of evidence that whatever is going on is a con: first, no waterborne viruses in Hunter's detailed notebook. And second, these fucking pills, hidden a bit too well, and Bryan didn’t breathe a word about them. All of this makes me think Bryan is onto something, but I refuse to believe that. And even if he's onto something, he won't hurt his family.

  A knock on the door distracts me.

  I almost forget Laura's plan: she's picking me up, bringing along Annie, for a cute dinner date. My stomach tightens. The last thing I want is forced girly moments when my brain is screaming about hidden pills and potential scamming. I shove Hunter's notebook under the pillow and pull on my mask. The only reason I'm agreeing to this is because Laura is a bit too friendly, and I haven't figured out how to turn her down without screaming at her to fuck off.

  Laura beams as soon as I open the door, her eyes sweeping over my messy room. "Were you sleeping?" She chuckles, a light, innocent sound that urges me to fake a smile under my mask. "Wow, it looks like a boy in here."

  "I was… ugh…" I pull down my hood, a natural reflex for no specific reason. How do I even answer that? No, Laura, I've just finished discovering that my family might be playing me for a fool, and those viruses are a scandal. But then I realize it’s not the best thing to tell the truth, at least for now. I still don't trust them. Not a single one.

  I shrug, pretending to be indifferent. "Benjamin always says I look like a boy—I mean, act like one. All messy and careless and… stuff."

  Her face becomes blank, her mouth half-open. Words seem to catch, suspended in the air between us. I know the shit I said sounds ridiculous, but I couldn’t find a better thing to say. Benjamin taught me everything except how to talk to overly-nice girls like her. A forced, fragile laugh slips from her lips.

  It's not a joke, Laura. Benjamin actually says that about me all the time. I force a chuckle too, just to fill the heavy silence.

  "Actually, I can relate." She shrugs. "Sometimes I'm messy too."

  "Yeah."

  The conversation dies a quiet, awkward death. We're standing on opposite sides of the doorway, nodding, like two idiots. She's smiling, and I hope my mask is conveying something similar. But I think it makes things worse.

  Laura points at my neck. "I noticed you don't mind covering your neck tattoo when you go out."

  "Oh, shit." My hand flies to the small bottle of foundation on my dresser. I totally forgot to cover it during that stupid game earlier. As I frantically dab it on, I see Laura stroll in, uninvited, and plop onto my bed.

  "You should stick to either foundation or bandages," she advises, leaning in, her head popping into the mirror's frame. Her smile is somewhere between pity and curiosity. Is it the mask? Or does she pity me for living with criminals? Whatever it is, I don’t know how to react to it. "You'll soon get to know others in this place, and you don't want them to think that you're hiding something."

  I nod, patting my neck. Her words make sense. But I didn’t ask for her opinion.

  Annie's head pops through the doorway, because Laura didn’t close it. "You, guys, what are you doing in here? We're going to be late for—" Her eyes meet mine, and her mouth drops open in a delighted gasp. Hearts coming out of her eyes. She bounces inside. "That's an amazing foundation! I can almost see no tattoo!" she squeals.

  Another uninvited guest. Fantastic.

  Annie snatches the bottle from my hands, without asking, inspecting it closely. "Is it expensive?"

  I watch her in the mirror, still working the beauty blender against my neck. Laura, on the bed, just observes us with her usual warm smile.

  "I don't remember," I mumble. "Benjamin bought it for me."

  "Benjamin?" Annie looks at me through the mirror.

  "Hunter. Her brother," Laura hums like she knows something I don’t about my own family.

  Annie nods, placing the foundation back on the dresser. I notice that both girls are staring. At me. Should I smile? Make a sound? Talk about the weather just like the English? I finish concealing the tattoo and turn to face them. Now, what? Tell them to get out? We're already late, and they're still just staring. They make me feel uncomfortable, especially Laura who has been keeping her eyes on me like an FBI agent since she walked in.

  Finally, she breaks the unsettling quiet, pushing herself up from the bed. "Let's go then."

  The three of us exit the room, heading toward the cafeteria. Just as we reach the door, Annie suddenly latches onto my arm. Without asking. Her grip is surprisingly strong, and it's already hard to move. I haven’t realized that I’m this tall compared to the two girls until now.

  She looks up at me, squeezing my arm against her chest as her lips stretch into a wide smile. "You know, I actually like you."

  What?

  Her smile widens even more, a bright, almost blinding flash under the harsh cafeteria lights. "We can be good friends. Like, goodest friends."

  Goodest?

  Laura, being the interpreter she is, jumps in. "She means best friends."

  But I don't want to be your best friend. Although the thought screams in my head, I don’t think it’s appropriate to say so. One of the downsides of wearing a mask is that she can’t see the disapproval on my face.

  "That's… nice of you," I manage, still cringing.

  Annie's eyes sparkle, softening into a smile just like her lips. It's oddly cute, I admit, despite cutting blood circulation to my arm. I didn't sign up to be anyone's friend here, but these girls are relentless.

  Her gaze drifts to a table across the room, and she waves a hand. I follow her line of sight. Armani and Jaiden sit there, surrounded by five overflowing trays of food. They've apparently decided our dinner choices for us, without consultation. Everything today feels like it's going against my will.

  And of course, Armani’s eyes are already on me, his gaze locking with mine across the room. It makes my skin crawl. I got his name during that stupid game, and even if I hadn't, I'd still be watching him. I know he's hiding a mountain of secrets, yet he talks about everything else. Clever of him. And the fact that Bryan relies on him the most means he'd know about the virus—and these weird pills—more than I do. That dramatic show he put on this afternoon? Pathetic. An attempt at manipulation, and I didn’t buy it. Not for a second.

  I've known Bryan long enough to recognize his classic playbook for getting rid of people: make them fight, isolate them, convince one to eliminate the others, then take out the last one standing. If Bryan is really onto something, he'd make use of the one following his orders without complaining. But, whether that was Bryan's plan or that idiot's plan (which is more likely), I won't fall for this shit like everyone else. After all, Bryan may be onto everyone but me.

  My eyes shift to Jaiden. His dark brown eyes are deep, mesmerizing, glinting even from this distance. His tiny smile is handsome. And that faint blush on his cheeks? A little bit adorable. Just a little. Something weird shifts in my chest—I blame Annie’s tight grip on my arm. Is this what they mean by 'heart skips a beat'? It feels so... magical, captivating, just like how I read about it in books. I still blame Annie for it.

  The moment we approach the round table, I pivot, avoiding the chair next to Jaiden. Laura and Annie slide into their seats, leaving the last empty chair for me. It's next to the one person I don't want to sit next to—Armani. He motions to the chair with a tilt of his head, that relaxed smirk playing on his lips, practically daring me. I take a deep breath, swallowing the uncomfortable lump in my throat, and sit.

  He rests his chin on the palm of his hand, completely ignoring his food and his friends' casual chatter, just staring at me. Intensely. Why is everyone staring at me today? Is there something on my face? I turn my head, meeting his gaze.

  "I didn't know your eyes were this beautiful," he whispers, his voice low and suggestive, like that cringey tone boys often use when they flirt, but I don't think he's flirting. I'm sure he's trying to patronize me. His finger lifts, slowly approaching my face, another uninvited gesture without my consent. "You know you'll look hotter without that mask?"

  "Touch me, and I will break your hand." My voice came out colder than I intend it to.

  Both of his hands drop to the table, a dry chuckle escapes him. "Oh, playing hard to get."

  Excuse me? I glare at him. I don't like the ridiculing look on his face. He silently turns to his plate, and things go back to normal. For now.

  The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  I pick up my knife, starting to cut the steak. Thank whoever chose steak with mashed potatoes; a small victory in a day full of defeats. I admire how a school manages to serve steaks for dinner, this must be what makes St. Phillips stand out. But there's a box of strawberry milk—not my favorite—and a side of peas. Who even eats peas with steak and potatoes?

  "Zoey."

  My heart jumps to my throat. I look up to Jaiden across the table. He takes a deep breath, a charming smile on his lips.

  "There's this club called The Sprouts Scout, it's like a farming club. I dunno how to describe it, but we take care of the local farm on campus. There aren't a lot of guys there. I mean, there's literally no one there except me, so I was thinking… if you wanna join me."

  "Farming club? Seriously?" Armani mocks. "You wanna be a peasant again? Miss your village?" He snorts a laugh. The blush on Jaiden’s face intensifies.

  I put down my fork and knife. The clatter is a bit too loud. Every head at the table snaps to me. Calmly, I turn in my chair to face Armani.

  "You were a peasant too before Bryan picked you up from the streets. Actually, you were worse than that; you were a thief, and you might still be a thief."

  Instead of embarrassment or shame, Armani's smile persists. "Oh? You're interested in me."

  "What?"

  Laura gasps, a wide grin on her face. "Oh my god! You were asking Bryan about Armani?" She giggles, "That's so cute!"

  "Guys, what are you saying? I don't understand." Annie's head snaps between each of us.

  "Annie, shut up." Armani's gaze locks onto mine again. "Well, now you're lucky you have my number. You know what to do." He winks, whispering, "Call me."

  Laura leans toward me from the other side. "Don't get caught sneaking to each other's room." She whispers, "I will help you."

  What the fuck is going on here?

  Jaiden's voice is weak, a hint of genuine confusion and frustration in his tone. "Sneaking into each other's room?"

  I can't listen to this shit anymore. Every molecule of my being screams at me to slam each of their heads against the table for the sheer nonsense they are spitting. I stand up, grabbing my tray. I woke up and chose peace today. I'm not breaking bones or smashing anyone's skull. For now at least.

  "Where are you going?" Laura asks.

  "Come on, don't be shy. We make a good pair." Armani's voice echoes in my head as I walk away. My chest is simmering with a rage I refuse to act on. Again, I chose peace today.

  I can hear Jaiden saying something but I can’t make it out. At least he’s no longer ashamed of where he came from, unlike the piece of shit he calls a friend.

  I settle at a table far away from them, facing the corner. It's easier to pull down my mask and eat this way without anyone peeking. Finally, a moment of silence where I can eat normally—Annie plops down in front of me with her tray. I instinctively pull up my mask. What a shitty day I’m having!

  "Are you angry?" Annie pouts, her lower lip sticking out. "Don't be angry. They are not nice to me too sometimes."

  I stare back at her, trying not to explode. "Why are you here?" Her pout turns into a tiny, earnest smile.

  "I don't want you to be lonely," she says. "We are friends. And friends don't make each other feel lonely."

  "Well… that's nice of you, Annie."

  "You know, sometimes I'm lonely too, and I wish someone to be with me."

  "I thought you were dating…"

  "Armani? Yes... I mean, kinda. He's always busy and don't reply to my messages, but it's okay." She smiles again, digging into her food with a contented sigh.

  I hate to break it to you, but he's intentionally ghosting you. The thought flickers through my mind and I really want to spit it out. It aches me seeing her getting mistreated by that asshole.

  I watch her eat. I don't like that guy. I genuinely don't know how to tell her that this is not how relationships work. She seems like a really nice person, and she doesn't deserve this. No one deserves this. But I've never been in a relationship myself, so I can't give dating advice. Besides, it's none of my business.

  I join the silence, focusing on my own food. But then an idea strikes me. It's totally evil, but it feels legit in my head. Hunter wouldn't be proud of me if I did this. But Bryan? Oh, Bryan would definitely be proud. I've seen people do this in movies to stir up drama. I'm not confident, but let's give it a try.

  I look up at Annie, and she meets my gaze almost immediately. "Are you okay with your boyfriend playing around?"

  Her brows knit, concern etching lines all over her face. "What?"

  "He was hitting on me a while ago."

  She gasps. "He was hitting you?"

  "He was hitting on me, not hitting me. Like, flirting with me."

  "Flirting?" She goes silent for a moment, chewing thoughtfully. "Like, saying nice things?"

  I nod.

  "He loves saying nice things all the time to people." She grins, a genuinely happy, clueless grin.

  I failed.

  I failed you, Bryan. The only thing that man ever successfully taught me since I was a kid was that putting salt on frozen chicken makes it melt faster. All his evil lessons and wicked wisdom flew past my ears, never sticking. It's a real shame that having a master manipulator around 24/7 got me absolutely nothing but teasing.

  However, I'm going to give it another try. Even if it's not for Annie's sake, I need to know more about this jerk. Let’s try to stir another drama.

  "Laura is your foster sister, right? Is she close to your boyfriend?"

  Annie nods. "They are besties."

  "They're indeed close," I continue, trying to sound anything but evil. "Laura is a nice person, but I noticed they don't include you in their chats."

  She shoves a spoonful of peas into her mouth. "Laura is the group's mommy. We all love talking to her." Her face screws up. "Ew, peas!"

  At this point, I'm pretty sure Annie is either brainwashed or just plain stupid.

  "Let's get back to the main point." I set down my fork and knife with a loud clink. "Your boyfriend was hitting on—I mean, flirting with me. And your sister was totally okay with it. She even told me not to get caught when I sneak into his room, or something like that."

  Annie stops chewing, her jaw mid-motion, and stares at me.

  "That's why I left the table," I press on, leaning forward slightly. "I couldn't stand your boyfriend disrespecting you and your sister encouraging it. Can you believe that? Your sister wants us to sneak into each other's rooms!"

  She swallows, pauses for a moment, her eyes wide, looking completely taken aback. "Why are you angry?"

  I take a deep, shaky breath. The sheer level of obliviousness I'm dealing with must be illegal. I try again, calmly, stressing each word. "Your sister. She wants me to sneak into your boyfriend's room. And she wants him to sneak into my room. Your boyfriend was flirting with me, and you were right there. He wasn't even trying to hide it." I exhale sharply, my gaze fixed on her blank, innocent face.

  "Oh…" Her eyes break contact for a second, glancing down at her plate before snapping back up, a delighted smile spreading across her face. "Isn't it cool that you guys are becoming friends? I thought you guys don't like each other."

  "Annie! Your sister wants me to go to your boyfriend's room! Me. Your boyfriend. Alone. In a room!" I shout, the volume slipping past my control. Everyone around is glancing at us. I squeeze the trembling fork in my hand.

  She hesitates for a moment, a flicker of something that looks like fear or maybe just extreme confusion drawing across her features. She stutters, "Don't be angry… It will be fun when you go to his room… and play… ugh… maybe Heads Up or cards."

  I slam my forehead onto my palm. I can't do this anymore. She is definitely stupid. I take a few more deep breaths, trying to calm my racing heart.

  "Zoey, are you okay? Are you still angry?" she asks, a note of concern in her voice.

  I push myself up, letting out a long, weary sigh. "I'm good. Everything's good."

  I go back to my dinner, forcefully stabbing a piece of steak with my fork. It was a terrible idea to try making them fall apart. I should have just minded my own fucking business and guarded the last two brain cells I’m still clinging to. Next time, I’m eating alone, with the peas—I bet they're smarter than Annie.

  But that’s not good either. I need to know more about that asshole, or I'll lose their stupid game. There's no way I'm letting any of them touch me. The thing is, I don't know how much they already know about him. If there’s something new I learn, I’m not sure if it’d be new to them. They didn't even look surprised when they found out he used to be a thief. And no, I didn't care to ask Bryan about him; I just overheard Bryan and Hunter casually chatting, and he happened to come up. I don't remember much of that conversation. Firstly, I was in the lab, putting what I’d learned into practice. Secondly, I didn't give a fuck.

  What were they talking about? What did Armani have to do with whatever secret they were sharing? Maybe they said something important about him that I may use for the game. I squeeze the last remaining brain cells of this long, exhausting day. But it's still fuzzy.

  Okay, first, what was I doing when they were talking? I remember it had something to do with rats and herpes. Oh, I've got it now. I was testing a chemical formula, one Bryan had made in the lab, designed to kill herpes in a day. He gave it to me to inject into the rats, then he stood near the window, having a smoke. That's when he started chatting with Hunter. Their conversations are usually boring, but on that day, I distinctly heard them talking about Armani.

  I'd only met him once before then. Bryan had brought him to the casino to meet Hunter. Hunter is usually never interested in meeting an underling. So why did Armani go to our casino then? I wasn't interested in meeting him either. I just exchanged a quick glance with him in Hunter's office, then left to reserve a VIP table and play poker with our men. I didn't stay in the room long enough to know what they were talking about. But for an underling to come see Hunter himself? That means something serious.

  There was something different about him back then. He wasn’t the smug pain-in-the-ass he is now. He was quiet. Detached. His eyes weren’t obnoxious, they were… dead. He didn't give me much attention. I saw him when he left the casino with both Hunter and Bryan. I don't know where they went. I bet they went to Hunter’s parlor to get the right-hand tattoo. The left-hand tattoo can be done by another underling, but both the right-hand tattoo and the neck tattoo are special. Hunter himself draws them. I mean, there's literally no other reason behind the three going somewhere together

  I still don't understand Armani's role in all of this. He isn't close to us. And by us, I mean me, Hunter, and Matilda. The owners of the neck tattoo, the higherups. That leaves me with only one conclusion—he's a bit too close to Bryan. His new right-hand man? I don't think so. Bryan is incredibly picky when it comes to hiring people, on the other hand, Armani is young, weak, and dumb. There has to be a much bigger reason for him getting the right-hand tattoo. It smells like something is going on behind my back.

  I catch Annie staring at me. "Oh, you're so pretty!"

  I'm puzzled. Why is she suddenly calling me pretty?

  "Your face looks so pretty even without the mask!" She beams.

  Without the mask? My hand flies to my face. The mask is indeed down, resting on my chin. I yank it back up. I must have spaced out and pulled it down while eating. That never happens unless I'm utterly exhausted.

  Annie bounces in her chair. "You don't have to wear a mask. You look pretty even with that thing on your face."

  "I'm not pretty," I return to sneaking my fork underneath the mask. I can't believe I pulled the mask down in public, and here of all places.

  "No! You're so pretty!" Annie insists, pressing the point. "You have a small nose and soft cheeks."

  What an odd way to describe a face! But I get it; she's trying to compliment me and be nice.

  "Thank you."

  She leans against the table, propping herself up on her elbows. "I'm sure you'll be popular among the boys if you don't wear the mask." She stabs her strawberry milk box with the straw and sucks on it. "Delicious!"

  "That's exactly why I don't want to take it off."

  I slip the straw from underneath my mask and sip the strawberry milk. It's surprisingly good. This is my first time tasting strawberry milk. I'm not a big fan of strawberries, and I never expected to like this.

  "Will you join the club Jaiden was talking about?" she asks. "If you don't want to, you can join the cheerleaders club, or whatever it's called."

  My heart skips a beat. "I'm not into cheerleading. I think I may join Jaiden's club if I don't find anything interesting."

  "Nice." She continues sucking on her strawberry milk, holding the box in both hands. She peeks behind me. "Oh? They left?"

  I look behind me, back at the table where the others were sitting. It's empty now, like most tables in the cafeteria.

  "I think we are late," Annie says. "What time is it? Do you have your phone? I don't bring mine because I don't understand the phone rules here."

  I pull out my phone from my pocket. "Eight thirty."

  "Oh, it's late! I need to do my homework—gotta go!" Annie stands up, grabs her tray. "See you, tomorrow."

  "See ya."

  The moment she leaves, I pull down my mask to finish the strawberry milk. I take a few more bites of what’s left on my plate. I can't eat properly in this place with the mask on. I need to find a quiet corner just to breathe. My mask got greasy at lunch, and I had to rush back to my room to wash it and grab a dry one. Thankfully, I packed plenty for moments like these.

  I drop my tray on the counter, where it joins a pile of dirty plates and empty trays, then head back to the dormitory. As I step inside, I see the janitor, mopping the floor.

  "Hey!" I call out, quickening my pace. "I want to ask you about the name you said earlier."

  He glances over his shoulder, and hurries to escape. His footsteps echo as he sprints out of the main hall, leaving the mop and bucket behind.

  "Wait!" I take off after him.

  He takes a sharp turn to the right. I follow, but when I round the corner, he’s gone. Just an exit to my right, and a row of closed doors ahead marked Staff Only.

  Why is he running now? Wasn’t he the one chasing me earlier?

  I sigh. I’m too tired to deal with this tonight. I’ll find him tomorrow. I still need to know more about the name Pearl. It was written in Hunter’s notebook. It has to mean something. But right now, I need to sleep. My brain feels lysed, like E. coli at a phage party.

  Dragging myself into the elevator, I ride up and stumble into my room. I slam the door shut and toss my mask onto the dresser. I open the closet to grab my favorite banana pajamas. My heart sinks.

  The five virus vessels.

  There are four now.