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“Or maybe he’s cracked,” Varo snapped. “Anatol says he stole drugs. He says he’s dangerous. You saw the match. Felix broke Helier’s ribs. He isn’t stable.”

“If it’s a trap,” Leander whispered in my ear, leaning heavily against the wall, “I’m taking at least three of them with me.”

“It’s not,” I said, straightening my ruined shirt. “It’s a negotiation.”

I stepped into the light.

Crates of expensive champagne and Selection Ceremony freight cluttered the bay, forming a maze that hid the Tier 1 squad huddled at the center.

Sylla, Varo, Crus, and seven others stood in a tight circle, their dress uniforms stiff with high collars that seemed to choke them. They glanced at the exits like trapped birds waiting for the cat, but when they spotted me, the circle broke. They stared, taking in the torn, grease-stained tuxedo shirt and the wild platinum hair matted with sweat.

“You came,” I said, my voice echoing in the vast space.

“You look like hell, Cento,” Sylla said, stepping forward. He looked past me at the door, checking for security droids. “The Director sent out a memo. He said you had a psychotic break and you kidnapped Regillen.”

“He lied.”

“We figured,” Varo muttered, crossing his arms defensively. “Since Anatol has been walking around like he owns the place, telling anyone who will listen that he’s the new Captain.”

Rage flared in my chest.

“Anatol is a parasite,” I said, walking toward them. “He blackmailed me. That’s why I threw the Symbiosis Drill. He broke Leander’s leg because he was afraid we were too good. And the Director let him do it.”

“That’s a nice story,” Crus said, shaking his head. He stepped back, his hand drifting toward his comms unit. “But Anatol is sitting in the VIP lounge drinking vintage wine, and you’re hiding in a loading dock covered in shit. Anatol promised us spots on the roster if we stay loyal. Why should we throw our careers away for you?”

“Because Anatol lied to you,” I said, stepping into Crus’s path. “Anatol doesn’t decide the roster. Tegula does. And Tegula didn’t bring the Reserves here to test us. He brought them here to replace us.”

The silence in the room deepened.

“I’m the proof of it,” I said, looking Crus in the eye. “I am Rank One, the face of this Academy. I did everything they asked. And last night, Tegula looked me in the eye and told me I was interchangeable.”

I gestured to my ruined clothes.

“Look at me. If they can do this to their star player the second I stop being useful, what do you think they will do to you?” I asked them. “The Culling Match wasn’t a punishment for Leander. It was an audition for the Reserves. Tegula thinks the Tier 1 squad is soft. He thinks you’re pampered. He wants Helier’s dogs because they are monsters who kill on command.”

“Helier is back?” Sylla asked, his face paling. “The Reserve Captain?”

“He’s in the Director’s office right now, wearing my uniform,” I said. “If you let them take us today, Helier is your new striker. Imagine playing with him. Imagine making a mistake on the wing and having him waiting for you in the locker room. He broke a coach’s jaw because he was bored. He broke his own face just to stop a ball. Do you think he cares about your career?”

I looked at Varo. “You think you’re safe? The Reserve defenders are bigger than you, Varo. They play dirty. If I go down, the standard for ‘Asset Protection’ goes out the window. Tegula will fill this team with psychos like Helier. You aren’t assets to them. You are inventory.”

The fear in the room shifted. It stopped being about me and started being about them.

“You’re saying we’re next,” Crus asked, his voice unsteady.

“I’m saying you’re already dead,” a voice growled from the shadows. “You just haven’t hit the ground yet.”

Leander limped into the light shirtless, wearing only the ripped remains of his uniform. The grease smears on his chest looked like war paint, and the Wolf Jaw tattoo on his hip seemed to snarl as he moved. He dragged the heavy boot, but he stood tall next to me.

The circle flinched. The last time any of them had seen him, he was leaving the field on a stretcher.

“I fought Helier,” Leander said, his voice rough. “I broke his nose. I put him in the wall. And even with a broken leg, I am the only thing standing between you and him.”

He stepped forward, invading Crus’s space.

“You saw the match,” Leander said. “Helier aimed for Felix’s knees. He aimed to cripple. If Felix and I are gone, who protects you? Anatol? Anatol is a goalkeeper. He stays in his box while you get slaughtered in the midfield.”

Leander pointed a finger at Sylla.