I pull on a fresh change of clothes that I find folded neatly in my room’s closet. They’re crisp in their newness and fit a little loosely. The sight of myself in the mirror, dressed fully in black, only reminds me of how foreign everything feels right now, how deeply I’ve gone into a hive and how likely it is that I might never come out of it, and I look quickly away, wishing my old clothes hadn’t been ruined by blood and smoke.

I’m smoothing down my new shirt when I hear a soft knock on my door, followed by silence. I hesitate.

“Come in,” I say, feeling strange giving someone permission while I’m the one here against her will.

The door of my suite opens and closes, followed by the soft sound of footsteps against the carpet. He’s here. I take one more deep breath. My heart won’t stop racing, but at least I don’t see it spelled out on my face.

Then I step out to see someone already seated in a chair by the window, waiting for me.

5

There are three of them, actually.

Jax stands beside a chair, her hand resting casually on the handle of her gun. She looks relaxed, but her gray eyes follow me without blinking, and I know that if she wanted to, she could whip out that gun and kill me before I could even open my mouth.

Sitting in the chair next to her is an older woman with glasses, her silver-streaked hair tied back into a neat bun that matches her neat clothes. A faint, pleasant perfume hangs in the air around her. She has the sort of face that belongs to a scholar—careful eyes, a controlled mouth, a stare that analyzes me for the unspoken things. Her hands are folded neatly in her lap. She gives me a sympathetic smile when she sees me looking her way.

But it’s the third person, the one whose presence owns the room, who stops me in my tracks.

He leans back against the wall, his arms crossed casually over his chest, one of his legs propped against the other. His face is no longer hidden behind a black helmet, and instead of his armor, he’s wearing a simple black sweater and dark pants, his shoes polished to a shine. But his mannerisms are unmistakable to me.

One side of his mouth tilts up in a smile. “Well, Emika,” says Zero. “Welcome.”

The first time I ever crossed paths with Zero, he was nothing more than a snippet of code, a glitch in Hideo’s matrix that runs all of Warcross. And the first time I ever saw a virtual version of him, he was standing in the middle of the Dark World’s Pirate Den, surrounded by people all hiding behind fake names and exaggerated avatar monsters.

Even then, he’d stood out. Against a backdrop of monsters, he was a lean, dark, armored shadow, as silent and unapologetic as the night. I can still remember the chill he’d sent through me at the mere sight of his virtual figure—the way my hands clenched and my nails cut into my palms.

Now I gape at his exposed face.

It’s like looking at Hideo through a dream.

He’s younger by a couple of years, his features harsher and fiercer. Still, I can immediately see the resemblance between the two—the liquid dark eyes and hair—and I can easily recognize in him the small boy from Hideo’s reconstructed Memory.

In a more normal setting, after a more normal day, he’d probably seem like a handsome stranger anyone might meet on the street, the kind of boy who’s never had trouble getting a date or making a friend, the sort who doesn’t talk much but grips everyone’s attention when he does. But here, there’s something unsettling about him that I can’t quite put my finger on. While Hideo has a piercing stare, there’s a wildness in Sasuke’s eyes, something deep and unfeeling. Something less human. I don’t know how to describe its unusual light. It draws me in at the same time it repels me.

The older woman speaks. Her eyes are soft, sweeping over me from head to toe. “This is the girl, then?” she says to Zero in an accent I can’t quite place.

“Emika Chen,” Zero replies.

“Emika Chen.” The woman rests her chin against her hand and frowns. “She looks exhausted. We should have given her an extra day to rest.”

“We don’t have that kind of luxury,” Zero says. “She was the only one of Hideo’s bounty hunters who managed to stay on my trail. She can handle a long day.”

At that, the woman gives me a helpless look. “I’m sorry,” she addresses me directly. “Everything will make more sense once we explain.”

Zero tips his head subtly in her direction. “This is Dr. Dana Taylor,” he says. “And you already know who I am.” He studies my face. “Jax tells me you gave her a little trouble.”

I finally find my voice. “Well, it’s not like she killed anyone in front of me or anything.”

“Come on,” Jax mutters to Zero. “She’s completely inexperienced. Did you know she’s never even fired a gun before?”

“I’ve fired stun guns,” I say.

Jax holds a hand out in my direction. “See?”

“With you around, she doesn’t need a gun,” Zero replies.

Jax makes an annoyed sound, but doesn’t counter that.

Zero observes me in the same way he’d done in the Dark World. My heart beats a rapid rhythm at his gaze. For all I know, he’s doing a scan of all my data, checking to make sure I’m not signaling anyone to follow me here.

Does he remember his brother? How could he possibly forget—or, worse, not care?

“I sent her to save your life, you know,” he says.

I turn my head up to meet his gaze as my anger flares again. “You forced me here under threat of death.”

Zero’s eyes swivel to the black door I’d entered through before settling back on me. “You accepted my invitation.”

“And how do I know you didn’t send those other assassins after me, too, just to set this entire thing up?”

“You think I have nothing better to do with my time than mess with you.”

“I think you play more games with me than you should.”

Dr. Taylor frowns at Zero before she takes a deep breath and looks at me. “We’re glad you’re safe, Emika,” she continues in a soft tone. “You may not have heard of Jax before, but she’s well-known in our circles. The sight of her defending you will send a clear message to every hunter watching the assassination lottery to stay away from you.”

I look over my shoulder toward the door, feeling no safer at this knowledge. If I dared to turn my back on Zero and leave this place, would Jax put a bullet through my head?

Zero points at my eyes. “I’m assuming you use the beta lenses.”

“Yes,” I reply. “Why?”

“You’re going to need some extra protection on your account.” Zero flicks his hand subtly, and a menu pops up between us, asking me to accept his invite.

I hesitate.

Zero gives me a wry smile. “It’s not a virus,” he says.

I’m not in much of a position to argue with him, so I accept it.

A download bar appears.

It completes and vanishes as quickly as it’d arrived.

Zero takes a step toward me. He holds out one of his palms. As I stare at it, a black virtual cuff materializes to hover over his hand. Then he places that hand over my arm, and the cuff snaps into place around my wrist with a clean click. Like a shackle. A coat of black armor identical to Zero’s virtual gear clips all over my body in a ripple of movement, and for a brief moment, I look like I once did in that red virtual cavern, when Zero first approached me during the championships.

The armor disappears again, as if it had faded away right into my skin. The cuff glows a soft blue before it vanishes. It reappears only when I stare long enough at my wrist. I’d seen the same thing on Jax when she first showed up during my attack.

“It’s a Blackcoat mark,” he says. “You are now under our watch. No one else will touch you.”

He’s officially claimed me for the Blackcoats. I’m theirs now.

I rub at my new cuff. Even though it’s a virtual object, I can almost feel it burning into me.

“So, what are you all? Vigilantes or something?”

Zero returns to where he’d been leaning against the wall. “That term’s a little sensational. But I guess it applies.”

Taylor turns her steady gaze on me. “We believe that too much power in the hands of a single entity is always a dangerous thing. So we fight that, whenever and wherever we can. We have wealthy patrons who support our cause.”

I wait for her to tell me who those patrons are, but she doesn’t. My eyes flicker uneasily to Zero. “How many of you are there?”

“Our numbers shift, depending on what we’re doing,” he replies. “We bring on those we need and part ways when we’re done—but there are, of course, a handful of us who are always involved. And as you know, our current target of interest is Hideo Tanaka and his NeuroLink.”

So, I wasn’t wrong. I’ve known since Hideo first hired me that someone was lurking in the shadows, trying to undo his work and threaten his life—but it’s one thing to be investigating those clues and another thing to hear it confirmed.

My gaze returns to Jax. “The assassination attempt on Hideo,” I say, my voice suddenly tight. “Right after the first Warcross game. Was that—”

Jax fixes me with her cool gray eyes before I can even finish my sentence. She shrugs. “Would’ve succeeded had his security detail not been so tight,” she replies. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter anymore. Killing him now won’t disable his algorithm.”

Jax had been the one who tried to kill Hideo. My eyes dart to Zero, searching for a reaction from him that’s as horrified as how I feel. But his face stays calm and collected. It’s as if Hideo were nothing but a name to him.

“Let’s talk about our common goals, Emika,” Zero says. “Because they’re one and the same, aren’t they?”

I stare at him, trying to sound calm. “To take down the NeuroLink’s algorithm.”

Zero nods once in approval. “And do you know what we need to do that?”

The words come out of me, cold and calculating. “To get into Hideo’s account.”

“Yes. Through someone who’s capable of winning that kind of trust. You.”

They need someone to get into Hideo’s systems, and in order to do that, they need to get under his skin. But after my talk with him, I’m going to be the last person he’ll be willing to confide in.