I wait for her to tell me who those patrons are, but she doesn’t. My eyes flicker uneasily to Zero. “How many of you are there?”
“Our numbers shift, depending on what we’re doing,” he replies. “We bring on those we need and part ways when we’re done—but there are, of course, a handful of us who are always involved. And as you know, our current target of interest is Hideo Tanaka and his NeuroLink.”
So, I wasn’t wrong. I’ve known since Hideo first hired me thatsomeone was lurking in the shadows, trying to undo his work and threaten his life—but it’s one thing to be investigating those clues and another thing to hear it confirmed.
My gaze returns to Jax. “The assassination attempt on Hideo,” I say, my voice suddenly tight. “Right after the first Warcross game. Was that—”
Jax fixes me with her cool gray eyes before I can even finish my sentence. She shrugs. “Would’ve succeeded had his security detail not been so tight,” she replies. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter anymore. Killing him now won’t disable his algorithm.”
Jax had been the one who tried to kill Hideo. My eyes dart to Zero, searching for a reaction from him that’s as horrified as how I feel. But his face stays calm and collected. It’s as if Hideo were nothing but a name to him.
“Let’s talk about our common goals, Emika,” Zero says. “Because they’re one and the same, aren’t they?”
I stare at him, trying to sound calm. “To take down the NeuroLink’s algorithm.”
Zero nods once in approval. “And do you know what we need to do that?”
The words come out of me, cold and calculating. “To get into Hideo’s account.”
“Yes. Through someone who’s capable of winning that kind of trust. You.”
They need someone to get into Hideo’s systems, and in order to do that, they need to get under his skin. But after my talk with him, I’m going to be the last person he’ll be willing to confide in.
What about Zero himself? Surely Sasuke is a better option to use than me?
A million questions threaten to spill out of my mouth. In thelight, Zero’s eyes are a very dark brown, and if I look closely, I can see thread-thin slashes of gold in them. The vision of him as a small boy, his high-pitched laugh as he ran through the park with his brother, flashes through my mind. I think of him grinning as Hideo looped the blue scarf around his neck, and him calling over his shoulder as he went to retrieve the plastic egg that Hideo had thrown too far.
Sasuke should be the only connection to Hideo that the Blackcoats would ever need. If Sasuke were to approach Hideo, he would give up the world for his lost brother, would move heaven and earth if Sasuke asked him to.
Would Sasuke do the same in return? Why is there no hint of emotion for his brother in his eyes?
I push down the rising tide of questions in my mind. There’s too little that they’re revealing about the Blackcoats, and something about the tension in the air tells me that I shouldn’t be openly asking about Zero’s connection to Hideo yet. I need to wait for a moment alone with him.
“So, you’re trying to stop Hideo out of the goodness of your hearts?” I ask.
“Why else would we be doing it?”
I throw my hands up. “I don’t know.You haven’t told me much of anything about your shadow group. Why’d you try to kill me when you blew up the Riders’ dorms? Was that out of your goodwill, too?”
Zero seems completely unsurprised by my remark. “Sometimes, doing the right thing means making hard decisions along the way.”
“And how do I know you won’t make another hard decision with me?”
“You don’t believe me.”
“No, I don’t believe that you’re telling me everything I need to know.”
Taylor suddenly straightens. “You went to prison for a while, didn’t you?” she says. “Earned a red mark on your record because you saw an injustice done to some girl you barely knew?”
My jaw tightens at her words. “You’ve been snooping around in my files.”
She ignores my tone, her eyes bright. “Why didyoudo it, Emika? What didyouget out of it, aside from years of hardship? What tookyoudown that path? You used your talents to break into the private files of all your fellow students. You released that data onto the Internet. That was a crime, wasn’t it? And yet, you did it anyway—because you were standing up for a girl who had been wronged.”
The memory rushes back—my arrest, my trial, the sentencing.
“You’re still so young,” she goes on. “Is it so hard for you to believe that someone else might want to do the same? Try to remember how you felt at that time, then take that and expand it into something bigger than yourself, a group of people, all of whom might believe in a higher cause?”
I don’t say anything.
