“Good.” He stands, dismissing us with a flick of the wrist. “Don’t disappoint me.”
We rise. Bam’s already halfway to the door, but I linger.
“You wanted to say something, Colton?” Harrison’s tone is bored, but I see the alertness in the way his fingers tap the desk.
“I want the name of the runner.”
He hesitates. “They’ll tell you soon enough.”
“That’s not good enough.”
He studies me, then picks up his phone. Taps once, twice, then hands me the screen. It’s a dossier. A photo, scanned student ID. Eve Allen. Full ride scholarship. Legacy: none.
I hand it back. “I’m surprised you’re okay with me being paired with a nobody.”
Harrison’s laugh is more of a bark. “She’s exactly what you need. She’s bait. And she’s expendable. If you do as you’re told and she survives, the Board will feed her to you, and if not, well. There’s always next year.”
I nod, and turn to leave.
“Colton,” he says, as I reach the door. “Don’t get sentimental.”
I close the door without answering.
Bam’s waiting in the hallway, hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched. “You good?” he asks.
“Fine,” I say. We walk in silence to the end of the hall. The floors here are pure marble, the walls lined with oil portraits of old men who never smiled. At the elevator, Bam slaps the button and stares at the numbers as they blink down.
“He’s scared,” Bam says, nonchalant. “Thinks you’ll go rogue.”
“Maybe I will.”
He cracks his knuckles. “If you do, I’ll back your play.”
“Why?” I ask, genuine.
He shrugs. “Better the devil I know, brother.”
The elevator arrives. We get in. The doors close. The descent is slow, a coffin lowering into the ground.
I feel nothing.
We exit at the main level. Bam peels off toward the parking lot . I cut through the admin wing to shorten my time in the quad, my phone already in my hand. I open the campus app, pull up Eve’s profile, and track her to the dorms. Second floor, common room.
She’s alone, curled in an armchair, knees drawn up, eyes glazed from exhaustion. She’s reading, but not really, just turning pages to keep her hands busy. There’s a band of bruises on her thigh, visible under the hem of her shorts. I remember putting them there. I want to do it again.
But I have more pressing issues to think about.
Like how to claim my girl without actually hurting her.
Back in my room, I replay the meeting with Harrison. The threat. The warning. I know he’s watching me, but he’ll never see the fracture lines until it’s too late.
I open the phone, scroll to the photo of Eve. I stare at it until the sun rises.
If legacy is a disease, I’m already terminal.
But she’s the only cure I want.
The next morning, the summons comes at 0700 sharp. The Funder’s office is already open, security glass glinting in the dawn, staff moving in silent circuits. Inside, the lights are dimmed to preserve the illusion of privacy. On the desk, a stack of leather-bound documents waits.
