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Ethan joins us with a smile a few seconds later. “Why are we faking our deaths?” he asks.

“Cause it’s fun,” Hayzel replies as she laughs and shoves the classroom door open.

The noise dies instantly. Every table has a box on it. Brown cardboard boxes, sealed and numbered. We get in, sitting quickly as the door closes behind us. Miss Green and Damien stand at the front. He looks composed, watching us take in the room. Knowing him, he’s probably curious to see us anxiously waiting for an explanation.

“Before you open anything,” he starts, “you need to understand why this exercise matters.” The projector hums to life behind him. “In the real world, most investigations don’t fail because of intelligence,” he continues. “They fail because of assumptions.”

He clicks the remote, and a slide appears. Two IDs side by side. One real. One fake.

“To a patrol officer,” he says, “both of these look legitimate.” Another click, the fake is highlighted. “To you, they shouldn’t.”

“You are being trained to see what others are not,” Miss Green speaks finally. “Because you’re taught where to look. Paperwork, credentials, and documentation, all of these are systems and systems always leave seams.”

“This isn’t about catching criminals at a traffic stop,” Damien continues. “You need to understand how people move through institutions without resistance. How files disappear and how access is granted.” His gaze sweeps the room. “If you can’t recognize a perfect fake, you can’t protect the system from it.”

I glance at Hayzel who’s suddenly serious with her eyes focused on the screen.

“Today’s exercise will expose you to materials you are not authorized to use outside of this room.” That earns a few raised brows from some of the students, myself included. “You will analyze them, break them down carefully and you will return them. Each of them has your picture on, a fake name, and fake information.”

Miss Green smiles and nods toward the boxes. “You can open them.”

Cardboard scrapes, tissue paper rustles, and plastic sleeves slide free at every table around me. Our box contains folders, printed records and IDs. Everything looks…real.

I start sorting automatically. My picture is on everything, driver’s license, passport and utility bills. Then I see it, an FBI credential. It looks used and real enough for Seraphin Bay.

Hayzel notices my pause. “Oh, come on,” she whispers. “That’s unfair. I have a fake company one.”

I slide it back into the sleeve. “Don’t get distracted.”

“Too late.”

We work through the exercise, dismantle other identities first, highlighting inconsistencies in the design, identify tells, trace where they’d fail under deeper scrutiny. The FBI credential stays untouched.

Both Ms Green and Damien circulate around the students, but then he stops at our desk, I feel it immediately.

“Find anything interesting?” he asks.

I explain our analysis quickly and he nods before stopping, “And the federal credential?” he asks quietly.

“It’s solid,” I say. “Construction-wise.”

He studies me for a second too long, then he leans in, voice low. “Don’t do anything stupid, remember.”

A faint smile lifts my mouth as I meet his eyes. “I won’t.” And I mean it, because this isn’t about thrill-seeking and I told him yesterday that I would do anything to find the man who took away this girl’s life.

The exercise ends, materials are returned, all the boxes are sealed again and the numbers are checked. I slide the fake FBI badge into my jacket pocket quickly before standing up. Hayzel is already talking about drinks tonight with Ethan, she doesn’t even notice.

As I zip my bag, I catch Damien’s reflection in the glass. He’s watching me.

I’m not doing something stupid. I’m doing exactly what they’re training me to do and I already know which door I’m going to walk through next.

Once we get out of the class and go back to our dorms, Hayzel and Ethan are sprawled next to Blue and I’m overthinking the next part of my plan.

“I hate morning training so much,” Hayzel says as she caresses Blue’s fur.

“You hate doing anything,” Ethan replies before looking at me, “Why are you thinking so loud, it’s making me sick.”

“Your dirty head is on my bed, and you’re still talking?” I reply as I get up and open the door, “I’m going to do some groceries, leaving blue with you is okay?” I ask Hayzel and she nods before stretching and taking him on her shoulders.