They exchange some intimate words I can’t hear. I look around, wondering whether Tremaine’s here to see them.

“Move over, move over.” Asher’s voice comes from the crowd, and some people part to let him through. He shoves the chair Roshan was sitting in out of his way and wheels himself into its place, then smirks at Hammie and leans against the table. “You can’t win two rounds against me in the same night,” he says. The crowd roars with approval at the challenge.

“Oh? Can’t I?” Hammie cocks her head at him and hops down from her chair. Her eyes are still bright from her win.

As I watch, the chess game before them resets. Virtual fire engulfs the edges of the chessboard, and a magnified version of the game appears over their heads for everyone to see. It’s no static chessboard, either—the knights are real knights, the rooks real castle towers, the bishops replaced with fire-breathing dragons that now lunge their necks forward.

A new timer appears to float over the table. I glance at it. Each player gets one second to make a move.

The game starts. Everyone cheers.

Hammie’s playful banter silences, replaced by a look I know well from our training days. Smug, wicked confidence. I shake my head, lost for a moment in awe as I watch her move. Pawn. Knight. Queen. Each play sends a column of fire racing around the hovering chessboard. Hammie’s eyes dart from position to position—her hand flies out without the slightest hesitation each time her turn comes up. Over her head, the virtual, animated chessboard is aflame, each position waging an epic war. Hammie’s knight clashes with one of Asher’s bishops, skewering the character with her lance; the opponent’s queen walks right into a trap she set up with several pawns and her rook.

The crowd around Hammie screams at each move. Asher’s brow furrows deeper as he fights a losing battle, but Hammie ignores him blissfully, singing along to the music at the top of her lungs, even dancing in place in between moves.

I smile along. I’ve never seen Hammie play in person. She’s even better than I thought; it’s like watching a game already preset and planned out, and she’s merely executing the moves. If I could only be as sure of my next steps as she is.

“Checkmate, son!”

The crowd around her bursts into a mass of cheers as Hammie corners Asher’s king. She slaps her hands down hard on the table, hops onto her chair in one nimble move, and lifts an arm up high in a V-for-victory sign. Her level bumps up by one, and her notes tick frantically upward. Asher throws his head back with a loud groan as Hammie does a little dance on the chair.

When the crowd settles and some move on to watch another nearby game, I finally walk up to their table. Roshan notices me first. He blinks in surprise—and then steps away from Kento, breaks into a grin, and claps his hands loudly at Asher and Hammie.

“Team reunion?” I manage to shout at them over the music, unable to stop myself from returning Roshan’s smile.

Asher lets out an exclamation at the same time Hammie hops down from her chair and makes a beeline for me. And before I can say anything more, I’m swept off my feet by a hug from both her and Roshan.

For a moment, I forget why I’m here. I forget about the Blackcoats and Hideo and the mess I’ve somehow gotten myself into. Right now, I’m with my friends, indulging in their messy, jostling greeting.

Asher looks bright-eyed, his cheeks flushed, his hair as rumpled as his clothing. He joins us as Hammie and Roshan finally let go of me. “You scared the hell out of us when you went MIA, you know that?” he exclaims.

“Captain,” I reply with a forced wink, trying to keep myself looking lighthearted here.

Hammie’s bright, glittering eyes turn serious. “Tremaine’s been waiting for you,” she says to me. “He says he has something to show us.”

At her words, I glimpse someone standing in the crowds nearby. It’s Tremaine, leaning against a wall with an uncertain look on his face. My momentary happiness wavers at the sight of him.

You’re going to want to hear this in person.

“Come on.” Hammie gestures up at the ceiling. “The next floor is full of private karaoke rooms. You can fill us in up there.”

I nod wordlessly back, and together, we all cut our way through the throngs until we make our way into the elevator.

A private suite is already waiting for us in the karaoke hall. Muffled music thuds around us from parties raging in the other rooms. I notice immediately that someone’s already in here, a barely perceptible figure sitting in the dark corner of the sofas. Then Roshan shuts the door behind us, sealing us in, and the shouts and music outside suddenly turn into a muffled din. My ears ring in the silence.

Tremaine speaks first. “This is the contact I told you about,” he says to me, nodding at the stranger now sitting beside us. “Jesse. Prefers they.”

At that, Jesse leans back against the sofa and studies me without acknowledging the others. I study them back. They have strikingly pale green eyes set against light brown skin, and a lean physique that gives off a false impression of fragility—but I see their slender fingers tapping with precision against the sofa. I recognize gestures like that. They’re the signs of a racer.

“I owe Tremaine a debt,” they finally say, skipping any formal greetings and instead fixing their green eyes on me. “He went into my records once and deleted a citation from the police.”

“They’d gotten caught drone racing,” Tremaine explains. “Jesse’s one of the best in London’s underground scene.”

“I remember you,” Roshan says, eyeing Jesse with his arms crossed.

“Same,” Jesse replies, returning the look. “You’d earned quite the name for yourself in the underground, Ahmadi.”

Asher lifts an eyebrow at him. “You never told us you used to race drones.”

“Why would I tell my Captain I was doing something illegal?” Roshan replies. “I wanted you to pick me for the Riders.”

“No wonder I never had a chance against you at Mario Kart,” Hammie adds. “You know I used to bet on drone racing? Maybe I’ve put my money on you before without even knowing it.”

Asher massages his temples. “Would anyone else like to share their illegal activities with their Captain?” he says.

Hammie ignores him and nods at Jesse. “You owed Tremaine a debt?”

Jesse cracks a subtle smile. “Well, now Tremaine tells me he’s calling in his debt to me for this one’s sake.” They tilt their head at me. “Emika Chen, isn’t it? Yeah, I know you. You’re the bounty hunter who first reported me to the police a couple of years ago, for drone racing.”

I flush. So, this is one of the people I’d tracked down in the Dark World during my past hunts. Now I remember this specific target from several years back, when I’d broken into a drone racing name directory. I’d won a thousand-dollar bounty for that. “Sorry,” I reply.

Jesse shrugs. “Don’t say stuff you don’t mean. It’s fine. Because of Tremaine’s request, I’ll call the beef between us settled. Lucky you.”

Roshan makes an irritated sound. “Way to make this situation even more uncomfortable, Blackbourne,” he mutters at Tremaine. “But that’s always been your specialty.”

Tremaine holds his hands up. “You think you can do better, you go ahead.”

I shift awkwardly in my seat, but under the table, I touch Roshan’s hand once. “I’m okay,” I reply before I turn back to Jesse. “Tremaine tells us you have some info we could use.”

Jesse nods, then waves a hand in front of them and brings up the symbol from Sasuke Tanaka’s sleeve. “You want to know where this is from, right?” It hovers over the table before us. “But, first,” they say, “you’re going to tell me why you need this info.”

I hesitate. Being at the mercy of a former mark isn’t exactly ideal. Beside me, Tremaine offers a helpless look.

“Fine,” I reply, nodding once at Jesse. “Then we’re even.”

Jesse folds their arms. “After you.”

Asher pushes himself out of his chair and onto the sofa, then turns his full attention onto me. “All right, spill. Are you okay? What really happened to you out there?”

I take a deep breath. “I’m okay. Mostly. I got into some trouble.”

“How bad?”

“An assassin saved my life from some other assassins.”

There’s a heavy pause from everyone. “O-kay,” Asher replies warily. “What, like the Yakuza or something?”

“Don’t be silly,” Hammie says with a snort, even as she instinctively drops her voice. “The Yakuza has too much political cred. They’re not gonna be so crass as to run around shooting people in the middle of the street.”

“No, not the mafia or anything,” I say, shaking my head. “At least, not a mafia I knew existed.” I meet my friends’ concerned gazes. A part of me still wants to turn inward, to keep what I know from them. But it won’t make them any safer to keep them out of the loop—I’d learned that the hard way when Zero first attacked our dorms.

So instead, I tell them everything that’s happened since the last time we saw each other. I explain in a low voice about the assassination lottery and the hunters who came after me. About Jax. About Zero, and Taylor. About the Blackcoats. Finally, I tell them about what I’d overheard between Hideo, Kenn, and Mari.

An ominous silence falls on the room. Roshan’s face looks drained of color, while Asher runs a hand through his hair and stares out toward the door.

“Damn,” Hammie finally whispers as she tosses a loose braid behind her shoulder. In the dim light, her eyes are wide and liquid-dark, full of all the same uncertainty churning inside me. “Innocent suicides. This is unraveling fast.”

“The Blackcoats are actively working to stop Hideo’s algorithm,” I add. “They seem like vigilantes, although I don’t know enough about them to agree.”