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We froze. The pose was intimate, martial, intense, chest to chest, breathing the same air, designed by a committee to feed unity to the nation.

“You really gave it up?” Leander whispered, his lips barely moving.

“It was a tactical decision.”

“Bullshit.”

“I hate training new partners,” I lied, forcing my voice to remain steady for the cameras. “It takes too long to break them in. Keeping you was the efficient choice.”

Leander’s grip on my shoulder tightened. He leaned in a fraction of an inch, his gaze dropping to my mouth before snapping back to my eyes.

“You’re a terrible liar, Felix,” he murmured.

Flashbulbs exploded.

The light blinded me, turning the world white, wiping out the hall, the Board, the appraisers, all of it. Even in the glare, I didn’t look away from him.

We stood there, frozen in a lie that felt terrifyingly like the truth, while the cameras ate us alive.

CHAPTER 21

FELIX

The city lights smeared against the reinforced glass, streaking gold and neon as the transport sped away from the Grand Hall.

I pressed my forehead against the cool window, trying to leach the heat of the Gala from my skin. The silence inside the cabin was absolute, hermetically sealed against the world, and I was grateful for it.

Leander sprawled across the leather seat beside me, abandoning the pretense of civilization the moment the doors locked. The tie hung around his neck, and his legs stretched out across the footwell, annexing my half of it with entitlement.

I kept my hands clenched in my lap. The bio-monitor on my wrist was vibrating against my pulse, a frantic insect-wing buzz that would not stop.

HEART RATE: 145. CORTISOL: CRITICAL.

I was red-lining. The performance at the Gala had overloaded the system, from the blinding lights and the invasive reporter to the Director’s threat and the way Leander held me on the dais. I felt like a live wire sparking with every bump in the road.

“You’re shaking,” Leander said, his voice rough with the aftermath of the night.

“I’m fine.”

“You look like you’re about to snap.”

I didn’t answer. I focused on my reflection in the glass instead. Pale. Wrecked.

The transport slowed, turning in at the Academy gates. The security checkpoints flashed by, red lasers scanning the vehicle before waving us through. We were back in the cage, and I logged that part of me was relieved to see the bars.

I stumbled out of the car before the driver could offer a hand. I needed the sterile, empty silence of the dorms.

We walked through the East Wing corridors. The silence was absolute, amplified by the late hour. We passed the sleeping quarters of the players we were supposed to be competing against, every one of them offline and recharging on schedule, but I only saw the numbers on my wrist climbing.

I swiped my hand across the panel. The door sealed behind us sucking the air out of the room.

My knees buckled.

I caught myself on the edge of the desk, knuckles turning white as I gripped the laminate. The vest of the tuxedo was crushing my ribs.

“I need...” My voice was a broken rasp. I clawed at the tactical belt I wasn’t wearing, fingers slipping over silk instead of canvas. “I need a suppressant.”

“You don’t need a pill.”