Madison leaned forward across the cafeteria table, eyes bright with curiosity. "So how was the gala? You both look amazing in those photos Emma posted."

  Taylor jumped at the sudden question, nearly knocking over her juice. Emma's hand trembled slightly as she picked at her salad.

  "It was incredible," Emma said, her voice overly bright. "The decorations, the music-"

  "The chocolate fountain," Taylor added quickly. "And everyone's costumes were so elaborate."

  Julia squealed. "I heard Glory Girl was there! Did you meet her?"

  "We did," Taylor nodded, grateful for the distraction. "She and I got into this whole debate about Winslow versus Arcadia."

  "And?" Madison pressed.

  "Taylor totally held her own," Emma said, managing a genuine smile. "You should have seen it."

  "What about that cute guy you were dancing with?" Charlotte nudged Taylor. "The photos looked so romantic."

  Taylor's cheeks flushed. "That was Theo. He taught me how to waltz."

  The girls erupted in excited chatter, pressing for more details about the dancing, the food, the celebrities they'd spotted. Taylor and Emma answered enthusiastically, focusing on the magical parts of the evening before everything had gone sideways.

  But Madison frowned slightly, noticing how Emma kept glancing toward the cafeteria doors. How Taylor's fingers drummed nervously on the table. How both of them seemed to startle at any loud noise.

  "Are you guys okay?" she asked quietly. "You seem kind of... on edge."

  "Just tired," Emma said quickly. "It was a late night."

  "And midterms are coming up," Taylor added. "You know how it is."

  "Have you guys picked your classes for next semester?" Julia twirled her hair around her finger. "I'm thinking of taking Home Ec."

  "Oh my god, me too!" Madison bounced in her seat. "I heard Mrs. Peterson is bringing in new recipes."

  Taylor and Emma exchanged glances as the other girls at their table chimed in with similar plans.

  "Wait, Charlotte - didn't you already take Home Ec last year?" Taylor asked.

  Charlotte shrugged, adjusting her glasses. "Yeah, but I want a refresher before college. My mom says knowing how to cook properly will save me from surviving on ramen noodles."

  "We should all try to get in the same period," Emma suggested. "It'll be fun!"

  "I call dibs on second period," Julia announced, pulling out her phone. "I'm signing up right now."

  "No fair!" Madison grabbed her own phone. "I wanted second period!"

  The girls scrambled to access the course registration portal, fingers flying across screens. Their excited chatter turned to groans of disappointment.

  "There's already a waiting list?" Charlotte stared at her phone in disbelief. "For Home Ec?"

  "Twenty people deep for every period," Madison confirmed glumly. "How is that possible? Registration just opened this morning."

  "Maybe everyone had the same idea we did," Taylor said, trying to hide her smile behind her water bottle.

  Taylor's hands flew across her workbench, soldering wires and connecting delicate components. Scattered blueprints covered every surface of the Barnes' basement, covered in her cramped handwriting and technical diagrams.

  "You've been down here for hours," Emma perched on a stool, watching Taylor work. "What are you making?"

  "Protection." Taylor didn't look up from the circuit board she was assembling. "I'm not getting caught helpless again like at the gala. Kaiser may have been... civil... but the next cape who corners us might not be."

  She held up a small device that resembled a compact makeup mirror. "This emits a specialized frequency that disrupts the inner ear and visual cortex. One click and anyone within range will be completely disoriented - vertigo, nausea, inability to focus."

  "Won't that affect us too?"

  Taylor reached for one of her books, bound in plain black leather, and handed it to Emma. "Read this before bed for the next week. It'll program your brain to filter out the effects. I've already started my doses."

  Emma flipped through the pages, seeing the familiar study guide text overlaid with Taylor's invisible patterns. "How many of these are you making?"

  "As many as I can." Taylor grabbed another handful of components. "One for each of us to carry, plus backups. I'm also working on some that can be hidden around the school, just in case."

  She paused, flexing her cramping fingers. "I hate feeling vulnerable, Em. Kaiser was right about one thing - we need protection.

  Emma traced her finger along the edge of the compact device. "So... what are you planning to do? About the PRT, I mean."

  Taylor's shoulders slumped as she set down her tools. "I spent all day yesterday going through their recruitment materials. The benefits package is incredible - top-tier health insurance, college fund, salary that puts most adults to shame."

  "But?" Emma knew that tone in her friend's voice.

  "Everything has strings attached." Taylor pulled up a webpage on her laptop. "Look at this - 'All Tinkertech must undergo rigorous safety testing before field deployment.' Sounds reasonable, right? Except the waiting list for testing is months long. And that's just the start."

  She scrolled through more documents. "Every project needs pre-approval. Every design needs to be documented and reviewed by a mentor. Every innovation gets filtered through layers of bureaucracy. And don't get me started on their 'psychological evaluations' for Master-type powers."

  "They'd never let you help Winslow the way you have been," Emma realized.

  "Exactly. They'd shut everything down immediately. Best case scenario, they'd have me making 'approved' study guides under strict supervision. Worst case..." Taylor shook her head. "I'd probably end up in some underground lab somewhere, with armed guards making sure I only work on PRT-sanctioned projects."

  Taylor paced the basement workshop, her footsteps echoing against concrete walls. "Everything I dreamed about at the gala - making Brockton Bay better, helping people reach their potential - it would all disappear. The PRT would never allow widespread use of my technology."

  "Too scared of another Heartbreaker situation?" Emma asked.

  "Or Eagleton. Or Teacher." Taylor's hand clenched around her soldering iron. "They're so paranoid about Master effects that they'd rather let the city rot than risk my help. Even if I could prove my tech is safe, even if I showed them exactly how it works..."

  She gestured at the walls of Winslow success stories pinned up around them - improved test scores, athletic achievements, reduced gang activity. "Look what we've already accomplished with just one school. Imagine what we could do for the whole city. Better workers, better citizens, people actually reaching their full potential instead of wasting away in dead-end jobs or joining gangs."

  "The Bay could be great again," Emma said softly.

  "But the PRT would shut it all down. They'd rather maintain the status quo than risk any change they can't completely control." Taylor slumped down in her chair. "And I get it, I do. Masters can be dangerous. But keeping everyone down just because they're afraid of what might go wrong..."

  Taylor slammed her fist on the workbench, sending components scattering. "I've researched every possible group in the Bay. The ABB? They're worse than the Empire - at least Kaiser pretends to be civilized."

  "God yes," Emma shuddered. "Lung would probably chain you up in some warehouse, forcing you to make tech for him."

  "Coil's already shown his hand by trying to grab us." Taylor's voice dripped with venom. "I'm not joining someone who sends mercenaries after teenage girls."

  She started pacing again, ticking off options on her fingers. "New Wave talks big about accountability and transparency, but they'd expose everything we've done. Plus, they're basically PRT-lite at this point."

  "What about those new guys? The thieves who hit Stansfield Enterprises? They got multiple capes."

  "Some low-level crooks with powers? Please." Taylor waved dismissively. "They'd be useless for protection. Same with the Merchants - they're just drug-addled idiots."

  "Uber and Leet?"

  Taylor actually laughed at that. "Those two? They waste their powers making stupid video game references. They couldn't protect a paper bag."

  She collapsed back into her chair. "I even looked into the bigger organizations outside the Bay. Toybox seemed promising at first - they're all Tinkers, after all. But they just want to sell tech to the highest bidder. Same with the Elite - they'd want to commercialize everything and probably move me to one of their other cities."

  "You don't want to leave Brockton Bay," Emma said. It wasn't a question.

  "This is our home. Everything we've built is here. I'm not abandoning Winslow just because some corporate types think they can make more money selling my tech somewhere else."

  Emma twisted a strand of red hair around her finger, hesitating before asking the question that hung in the air. "So... what about the Empire?"

  Taylor's hands stilled on her workbench. "I don't want to join them. Their ideology is repulsive and I'd never be comfortable working directly with them."

  "But?" Emma pressed.

  "But they were more... reasonable than I expected." Taylor picked up the burner phone Kaiser had given her, turning it over in her hands. "They didn't try to force me to join. They actually warned me about threats and gave me useful information."

  "Kaiser seemed almost protective, in a weird way."

  "Exactly. And they're already keeping an eye on Winslow without demanding anything in return." Taylor set the phone down carefully. "I'm thinking about calling them. Not to join, but maybe to work out some kind of arrangement."

  "What kind of arrangement?"

  "Information sharing, maybe. Mutual protection. They leave us alone to do our work at Winslow, and in exchange..." Taylor shrugged. "I don't know exactly. But there might be a middle ground between joining them and making them enemies."

  Emma slumped against the workbench, careful not to disturb any of Taylor's components. "I hate to say it, but you're right. We can't just ignore them and hope everything works out."

  "And Kaiser did seem... reasonable, during the gala. During the whole limo thing." Taylor grimaced. "At least he's someone we can actually talk to. Not like Lung or Coil skulking in the shadows."

  "Plus," Emma picked up one of Taylor's half-finished devices, "he already knows about your tech and hasn't tried to shut us down. That's more than we could expect from the PRT."

  "You really think we should call them?"

  "What's the worst that could happen from just talking?" Emma set the device back down. "

  Taylor raised an eyebrow. "You remember these are literal Nazis, right?"

  "Trust me, I haven't forgotten." Emma hugged herself. "But right now they're the only ones who've actually helped us. Even if their reasons are totally self-serving."

  "The enemy of my enemy..."

  "Isn't necessarily our friend," Emma finished. "But maybe they can be... not enemies? At least until we figure out something better."

  The private dining room at the Golden Tiger smelled of spices and smoke. Lung reclined at the head of the table, a half-eaten spread of authentic Szechuan dishes laid out before him. He lifted a piece of fish with his chopsticks, studying it before popping it in his mouth.

  Mike and Ken stood at rigid attention near the door, neither daring to sit without permission.

  "Tell me about Winslow." Lung's voice rumbled low, as if the dragon inside him stirred even at rest.

  Mike stepped forward, hands clasped behind his back. "The study materials we reported on earlier? We tracked them to their source. Two white girls - sophomores."

  "Names?"

  "Emma Barnes and Taylor Hebert," Ken supplied. "Barnes is some kind of model. Hebert's the quiet one."

  Lung's chopsticks clicked against his plate. "And you are certain these materials are... special?"

  "Yes sir," Mike nodded vigorously. "Our people using them show marked improvement. Not just in grades - athletics, focus, discipline. Even their English is getting better."

  "And neither girl has gang affiliations?"

  "No sir. Barnes' father is a lawyer. Hebert's is with the Dockworkers Union."

  Lung set down his chopsticks. "The Empire would value such a Tinker. Perhaps we should extend an invitation first." His scales rippled beneath his skin.

  Lung's metal mask caught the dim light as he leaned forward. "Arrange a meeting. Soon."

  "What time would you like us to schedule it for, sir?" Ken shifted his weight, missing the dangerous undertone in Lung's voice.

  The dragon's eyes narrowed behind his mask. The temperature in the room climbed several degrees. "You misunderstand. Gather our people. Take them."

  Mike's hand unconsciously drifted to the ragged scar tissue on his neck - a souvenir from his last encounter with Empire capes. He swallowed hard. "We'll do as you ask, but... speaking from experience, regular guys against capes... it usually doesn't end well for our side."

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  "You will have support."

  A presence materialized behind Mike, silent as death. A hand gripped his shoulder, making him flinch. He turned slowly, coming face-to-face with the emotionless white demon mask of Oni Lee.

  The assassin's grip tightened, making Mike's knees go weak. The smell of ash and cordite coming off the cape's costume filled his nostrils.

  Mike and Ken bowed deeply, nearly touching their foreheads to the floor. Their movements were jerky, mechanical - like puppets on tangled strings.

  "We'll make the arrangements immediately," Mike stammered, backing toward the door. His shoulder still burned where Oni Lee had gripped it.

  Ken followed his lead, careful to keep his eyes downcast. "Yes, right away."

  They shuffled backward through the doorway, maintaining their bows until they were safely in the hallway. The heavy wooden door clicked shut behind them with quiet finality.

  The door to Skidmark's office creaked open, revealing walls plastered with study guides. Papers covered every inch of space, connected by strings of yarn in a dizzying spider web pattern. Squealer stepped over empty beer cans and needles littering the floor.

  "Adam, what the fuck is all this?"

  Skidmark spun around in his chair, eyes bloodshot and wild. "Sherrel! Look at this shit! It's all connected!" He jabbed his finger at different papers. "These fuckin' study guides from Winslow - they're sending messages!"

  "Messages?" Squealer picked her way through the debris.

  "Yeah! Like this biology section about cell division?" He pressed his face close to one page. "It's totally about splitting up territory between gangs! And this chemistry shit about reactions? Code for drug formulas!"

  He bounced between papers, movements jerky and erratic. "Or maybe... maybe it's the government! Using schools to program kids!"

  "Christ," Squealer muttered.

  "Wait, wait..." Skidmark paused, squinting at a math worksheet. "What if someone's actually controlling people through these? Like some mind-control cape shit?"

  He shook his head violently. "Nah, that's stupid. It's gotta be aliens. Using math to beam signals into kids' brains!"

  Squealer walked over to his private stash, grabbing a baggie of pills. "I'm not dealing with this sober." She dry-swallowed two tablets, grimacing at the bitter taste.

  "The numbers, Sherrel! Look at the numbers!" Skidmark was practically vibrating as he traced patterns between equations with a marker.

  Mush straightened his freshly-pressed collar and brushed imaginary dust from his sleeves. The shower had done wonders - his usual coating of garbage was nowhere in sight. He rapped his knuckles against Skidmark's office door.

  No response. Just muffled voices from inside.

  He cracked the door open. The smell of stale beer and weed hit him first. Papers covered every surface, scribbled with incomprehensible notes and equations. In the center of the room, Skidmark and Squealer sat back-to-back on the floor, heads swiveling as they stared at different walls.

  "The cafeteria menu!" Skidmark jabbed his finger at a paper. "It's a fucking map of underground tunnels!"

  "No, no - look at the font choices," Squealer slurred. "Arial means ABB territory, Times New Roman is Empire..."

  Mush slowly closed the door. He turned to the nervous-looking girl beside him, forcing a smile.

  "The bosses are, uh, in the middle of some major strategic planning right now." He gestured down the hallway. "How about I show you around the place first, Whirlygig?"

  Sophia stabbed at her meatloaf, surprised by how tender it was. Last year, the cafeteria food could have doubled as hockey pucks. She glanced at her usual table where Taylor and Emma sat huddled together, their heads bent low in conversation.

  Her plastic fork scraped against the tray. The two had been acting weird lately - jumpy, distracted. When she'd asked what was wrong, they'd brushed her off with vague excuses about course selection stress.

  The lunch line shuffled forward, shorter than she remembered. A group of sophomore girls walked past, carrying colorful lunch boxes and tupperware containers. The smell of homemade pasta and fresh-baked cookies wafted through the air.

  Charlotte unpacked her lunch at a nearby table, pulling out enough portions to share with three others. Julia had done the same, trading half her sandwich for Madison's brownie. Even that quiet girl from her English class - what was her name? Sarah? - had brought extra rice balls that her boyfriend now devoured.

  "Since when did everyone turn into Martha Stewart?" Sophia muttered.

  She counted at least fifteen girls who'd brought food to share. Some even had cute little recipe cards they passed around between bites. The cafeteria buzzed with conversation about cooking techniques and family recipes.

  Sophia poked at her green beans. They were properly seasoned for once, but somehow less appealing than the homemade meals surrounding her. She caught another whiff of Charlotte's pasta - was that fresh basil?

  Her stomach growled traitorously. Maybe she should have taken Taylor up on those cooking lessons last week instead of begging off for patrol.

  Sophia shifted in her seat, her track uniform fitting differently these days. At least the scale had finally stopped climbing. She'd settled into her new curves, even if they weren't what she'd originally wanted for herself.

  Her face warmed remembering Marcus from the basketball team calling her "thicc" last week. She'd nearly decked him, until she caught his appreciative grin.

  Sunlight streamed through the cafeteria windows, catching on the fresh paint job and new bulletin boards covered in colorful club announcements. Even the usual grime seemed less noticeable lately.

  Movement caught her eye - Tina from her History class was chatting with one of the band geeks by the drink machines. Sophia did a double take. Last she remembered, Tina had shaved half her head and gone on some feminist crusade, calling herself a "true daughter of Lustrum" or whatever.

  But there she was, gothic makeup softened to subtle smokey eyes, actually giggling at something Band Boy said. Her black-painted fingers played with a strand of hair as she smiled up at him.

  "Is she... flirting?" Sophia whispered to herself. She had to admit, the guy wasn't bad looking - kind of a young Johnny Depp thing going on.

  She shrugged and turned back to her lunch. Good for Tina, breaking out of her shell.

  Sophia took another bite of the meatloaf, chewing slowly. Even with the improvements, it didn't compare to the meals at the Barnes household.

  A smile tugged at her lips as she remembered - Thanksgiving was only a few weeks away. The whole Hess family had been invited to celebrate with the Heberts and Barnes. Now that would be a feast to look forward to.

  She could already picture the perfectly roasted turkey, mashed potatoes drowning in gravy, Mrs. Barnes' famous candied yams. Her mouth watered at the thought of Taylor's fresh-baked dinner rolls, still warm from the oven.

  Sophia paused, fork hovering over her tray. A mischievous grin spread across her face. Maybe she could get Taylor to make one of those study guides for her own mother. Her mom was a decent cook, but nowhere near the level of Mrs. Barnes or Taylor.

  With one of those guides, her mom might finally learn how to make Sophia's favorite double-chocolate pecan pie for dessert. She could already taste the gooey filling, the crunch of nuts, the thick dark chocolate drizzled over the top...

  Taylor chewed slowly, her gaze distant as her mind whirled with a dozen different thoughts and plans. Across the table, Danny watched her with a concerned frown.

  "Taylor?" He cleared his throat. "I'm sorry."

  She blinked, drawn back to the present by his words. "Hm? Sorry for what?"

  Danny sighed, setting down his fork. "I haven't been very present lately, have I? Not since..." He swallowed hard. "Not since your mother passed."

  Taylor's chest tightened at the mention of Annette. Even now, the wound felt raw.

  "After she died, I was in such a dark place," Danny continued quietly. "I threw myself into work, into becoming Union President. Looking back, it was like I was mind controlled or something, single-mindedly focused on that one goal to the exclusion of everything else."

  He reached across the table, taking Taylor's hand in his calloused grip. "I left your care to the Barnes more often than not. And I'm sorry for that, kiddo. You must have felt so alone."

  Taylor hid a wince at his inadvertent parallel to her own actions. A familiar pang of guilt twisted in her gut. She squeezed his hand, offering a small, reassuring smile.

  "It's okay, Dad, really. The Barnes were - are - like a second family. And you were grieving, I understood that." She took a breath. "Besides, you've been doing amazing work as Union President. Didn't you say the Mayor is on the ropes about reopening the ferry?"

  Danny's expression brightened with obvious pride. "You heard about that, huh? Yeah, we've really been pushing for it. Having a functional ferry would do wonders for the local economy, bring more jobs to the city." He chuckled ruefully. "I may have gotten a little...single-minded again in pursuing it."

  "No more than usual, I'd bet," Taylor teased gently.

  He laughed. "Fair point. Still, I should have been paying more attention to what was happening with you too." Danny shook his head in amazement. "It wasn't until I got your invitation to the Medhall Gala that I realized just how much you've accomplished at Winslow this past year."

  Taylor's stomach twisted uncomfortably.

  "Some of the guys down at the Docks mentioned their kids were benefiting from your study guides when I told them about it," Danny continued, oblivious to her discomfort. "You're becoming a mini-celebrity around here, kiddo."

  A mini-celebrity. Taylor pushed down a wave of nausea at the thought. She was anything but - she was a snake in the grass, twisting the minds of her peers without their knowledge or consent. All for some vague, half-formed ambition of "helping" the city.

  She forced another smile, praying it looked more genuine than it felt. "I'm sure they're exaggerating, Dad. I've just been...really focused on my studies this year."

  A vast understatement. Danny beamed at her, pride shining in his eyes.

  "Well, whatever you're doing, keep it up. I'm proud of you, Taylor. Your mom would be too."

  The words were like a physical blow, stealing Taylor's breath. She blinked back the sudden sting of tears as her Dad continued chatting, oblivious.

  Guilt and shame burned in her chest. If only he knew the truth of what she'd done... what she was still doing. Her Dad - her kind, trusting Dad - would be horrified. Disgusted.

  Taylor took a shaky breath, determination steadying her resolve. No, she couldn't falter now, not when she was so close to really making a difference. Once she had the city firmly in hand, then she could make her Dad understand. Then he would be proud for real.

  Taylor drew in a deep breath, steeling herself. "Actually, Dad, I should apologize too."

  She set down her fork, meeting his inquisitive gaze steadily. "I know I haven't been around as much lately either. I've been so focused on my...projects at school that I've let other things slide."

  Like spending time with her Dad. A fresh pang of guilt lanced through her. Taylor swallowed hard. "We should do something together soon. Just you and me - maybe a movie night? It's been too long since we've had some quality father-daughter time."

  Danny's face softened with a warm smile. "I'd like that, kiddo. Movie nights were always-"

  The shrill trill of Taylor's phone cut him off. She shot him an apologetic look as she fished it out of her pocket, glancing at the notification. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw the name.

  Theo.

  Taylor's thumb hesitated over the message for just a moment before opening it.

  Theo: Hey Taylor, I had a great time at the Gala the other night. Would you be interested in getting dinner together this weekend?

  A hot blush crept up Taylor's cheeks as she reread the words. Dinner...with Theo? Like a date? Her stomach did a weird little flip at the thought. Before she could spiral too far down that particular train of thought, Danny cleared his throat pointedly.

  "Everything okay over there?" He nodded at her phone, one eyebrow raised curiously. "That was from Emma, right?"

  "Hm?" Taylor blinked, momentarily nonplussed. Then she realized what he'd asked. "Oh! No, it wasn't Emma. It was, uh..." She felt her blush deepen as she glanced back down at Theo's message. "It was from Theo, actually."

  Danny's eyebrows shot up towards his hairline. "Theo? As in the boy you were dancing with at the Gala?"

  Taylor nodded, feeling suddenly shy under her dad's keen scrutiny. She bit her lip, giving a small shrug as she tried for a nonchalant tone. "Yeah, he...wanted to know if I'd like to get dinner this weekend."

  "A date, huh?" A wide grin split Danny's face, eyes twinkling with undisguised delight. "Well, well, well. Looks like my little girl is growing up on me."

  "Dad!" Taylor rolled her eyes, embarrassment warring with reluctant amusement. She tried to look put out, but a helpless smile tugged at her lips. "It's not like that, we're just friends."

  Except even as she said it, she knew it was a lie. Theo was clearly interested in more than friendship - and if she was being honest with herself, the idea didn't totally repulse her either. Taylor had been so consumed with her plans for Winslow and the city that she'd barely given any thought to dating. But now, picturing going out to a nice dinner with Theo...

  Her blush deepened further, heat prickling along her skin. Okay, maybe she found the idea a little appealing after all.

  Across the table, Danny was still grinning like the cat that got the canary. "Sure, sure. 'Just friends.' That's how it always starts." He winked at her in an exaggerated fashion. "So, you gonna go? Please say you're gonna go, I can't wait to hear all about it."

  Taylor huffed out a breath, fighting a smile. "I haven't even responded yet! Give me a chance to think about it."

  She glanced back down at her phone, gnawing her lip indecisively as she reread Theo's message. A small part of her thrilled at the idea of going on an actual date. Of being normal for once, without secrets or lies or ulterior motives hanging over her. Just...a nice night out with a boy she kind of liked.

  But an insidious voice in the back of her mind whispered that it would only lead to more complications. More secrets, more lies as she inevitably manipulated Theo in service of her greater goals. Could she really drag an innocent boy into her tangled web too?

  Taylor's thumb hovered over the keyboard, indecision roiling in her gut. Before she could make up her mind either way, Danny spoke up again - this time in a tone laced with exaggerated gruffness.

  "Speaking of this Theo character..." He leveled her with a mock-stern look, mouth twitching like he was suppressing a grin. "I don't suppose I need to have a little chat with him about my well-maintained shotgun, do I?"

  Taylor's head whipped up, eyes widening in shock and disbelief. Then she caught the teasing glint in her dad's eyes and groaned, burying her face in her hands.

  "Oh my god, Dad, no!" Her words were muffled against her palms. "Don't be that dad, please!"

  Danny burst out laughing, the rich sound filling their kitchen and easing the tight knot of tension in Taylor's chest. For just a little while, the worries plaguing her faded into the background, overshadowed by the simple, familiar pleasure of playful banter with her dad.

  As his laughter trailed off into sporadic chuckles, Taylor peeked out at him from between her fingers. She found him watching her with such open adoration that it made her heart squeeze painfully in her chest. In that moment, she vowed to herself that she would find a way to make everything right, no matter what it took.

  She would make her dad proud of her, for real this time. Not through lies and manipulation, but through genuine accomplishments he could look upon without a shred of shame or regret.

  It was a promise she intended to keep, no matter what stood in her way.

  Taylor hefted another ancient printer onto the cart, grunting with exertion. "Geez, how many of these dinosaurs does Winslow have lying around?"

  Emma chuckled, wiping sweat from her brow. "Enough to keep us busy for months, apparently. At least we're putting them to good use."

  They'd been at it for over an hour after the final bell, hauling outdated tech from various storage closets around the school. The late afternoon sun beat down on them as they worked behind the building, waiting for Anne to arrive with her car.

  "Speaking of good use," Taylor said, lowering her voice conspiratorially, "I've got some ideas for upgrading our production capabilities. If we can streamline the process, we might be able to expand beyond Winslow sooner than we thought."

  Emma's eyes lit up. "Really? That's fantastic! We could start reaching out to other schools, maybe even—"

  She broke off suddenly, frowning as she glanced over Taylor's shoulder. Taylor turned to follow her gaze, noticing a small group of boys loitering near the corner of the building. They wore an eclectic mix of red and green clothing.

  "Huh," Taylor mused, "I don't recognize them. New students, maybe?"

  Emma shrugged. "Could be. Winslow's always getting transfers."

  They returned to their work, chatting about potential improvements to Taylor's tech and their plans for the coming weeks. Every so often, Taylor's gaze would drift back to the group of boys. She couldn't shake the feeling that there were more of them now than before.

  "You know," Emma said, hefting a bulky CRT monitor, "we should see about getting some help with this next time. My arms are going to fall off at this rate."

  Taylor laughed. "What, the great Emma Barnes can't handle a little manual labor?"

  "Hey, not all of us have your stamina, Miss Volleyball Star," Emma retorted with a grin.

  Emma's phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out, frowning at the unknown number displayed on the screen. The single word message made her blood run cold: 'Run!'

  "Taylor—" Emma's voice cracked. She grabbed her friend's arm, jerking her attention away from the printer.

  The group of boys had spread out, forming a loose semicircle around the corner of the building. More emerged from behind parked cars in the lot. Red and green bandanas covered their faces.

  "Inside. Now." Taylor abandoned the cart, backing toward the school's rear entrance. Her hand found Emma's, squeezing tight.

  The nearest ABB member reached into his jacket. Metal glinted in the afternoon sun.

  They bolted for the door. Emma's flats slapped against the pavement, Taylor's sneakers pounding beside her. The sound of multiple footsteps erupted behind them.

  Taylor slammed into the door first, yanking the handle. "No, no, no—"

  The door didn't budge. Locked.

  "Side entrance," Emma gasped, already moving. "Through the gym."

  Taylor and Emma skidded to a halt, hearts pounding. In front of them stood a figure clad in black, a white demon mask covering his face. Oni Lee.

  "Your presence has been demanded by the dragon," he intoned in a flat, chilling voice.

  Taylor's mind raced. The ABB was one of the gangs she'd ruled out early on. Too violent, too unstable. And now they'd sent their most lethal cape after her and Emma? Her hand tightened around the metal bookbinder in her pocket—a recent prototype laced with hypnotic circuitry. If she could just get him to look at the intricate designs...

  Before she could move, Oni Lee vanished in a burst of ash. Taylor blinked, momentarily stunned. Then a bony hand clamped down on her shoulder from behind.

  "I wouldn't try anything foolish," that dead voice said in her ear. She froze.

  Emma squeaked in alarm as another Oni Lee materialized next to her, gripping her arm with frightening intensity.

  "You will come with us," he told them. "The dragon grows impatient."

  Taylor exchanged a wide-eyed look with Emma, searching for any sign of a plan, a way out. Emma could only shake her head infinitesimally, lips pressed into a tight line.

  With dread coiling in her gut, Taylor realized they were well and truly trapped.

  "Release my minions fiend!" A pompous voice declared from up ahead. "Or face the wrath of The Headmaster!"

  In front of them was a stocky figure wearing one of the Winslow graduation gowns complete with cap. Covering his face was a cheap plastic tragedy mask from the drama class. The whole outfit was very slapdash and showed signs of being donned hastily. Was that Mr. Glady?