Tomorrow night. It’s too late. If I’m going to keep with our plan, I need to dismantle things and install our own chip sooner than that. I frown at Hann. “Show me the system tonight. If it needs to be done manually, I’m going to need all the time I can get.”

Hann studies the liquid in his mug. Nearby, Pressa holds her breath. “You’re going to do it when I tell you,” he replies. The command in his voice is cool and detached, so used to being obeyed that he doesn’t even bother questioning whether or not I will.

“But—” I start to protest again.

In the blink of an eye, he whips a hand out at Pressa and seizes her wrist right as she starts to pull away.

She gasps. I freeze.

Hann looks at her with an unblinking gaze—and then finally releases her. There’s an unspoken threat in his words as he turns his eyes back to me. He’s suspicious of why I want access so soon to his system, why I’m not questioning his ambition. He’s telling me that he could easily snap Pressa’s wrists, that he could slit my throat and leave our bodies in the streets like he’s done with so many others.

It’s easy to forget that Hann is known for being a cold-blooded killer. The sudden flip between this and his vulnerable, exhausted self leaves me reeling.

“After you,” he says to her, as he holds out the mug that she’s handed him.

To my amazement, Pressa doesn’t falter. Instead, she nods and holds the mug up. She takes a long sip. I have to stop myself from reacting as she does and giving us all away, but my muscles feel weak with tension at her move. Does this mean the effects will hit her too? Did she guess this might happen?

“You might feel a little weak tonight,” she says to Hann when she’s swallowed some of the drink. Her voice has a slight tremor in it, but she manages to keep her words slow and measured. “Some clear liquid may come up in your coughs, but it’s a good sign that the medication is working. If the liquid looks dark, we’ll need to give you some antibiotics.”

Hann waits, watching her. But she just meets his gaze with her own calm one, and if I didn’t know what we were doing, I’d think she was genuine, nothing more than someone following through with what she’s promised him.

For a moment, I don’t think we’ll get away with it.

Then his cold gaze disappears. He leans back, looking more satisfied now that Pressa has drunk enough of the serum herself.

“I’ll show you the system tonight,” he says to me. “Tomorrow morning, I expect you to have an efficient solution for implementing what I want. I should be able to tell that you’re the top student in all of Ross City.” He gives me a brief smile at that.

I nod back and let out a slow breath as Hann rises to his feet. He straightens his jacket, looks once at Pressa, and gives her a terse nod. “Tomorrow, we’ll talk again. I appreciate your help.”

It’s not spoken with gratitude. There’s a promise in there, a confirmation that tomorrow we’re going to have to face him again. I just follow Pressa and murmur in agreement, then head out of the room behind him. My eyes stay lowered, but I keep my attention on Pressa beside me.

If we can survive the night, we just might make it out of here. But if things go wrong, I may just have overreached for the last time.

* * *

Pressa and I are allowed to stay in the same room, with a set of twin bunks stacked on top of each other. Guards are stationed right outside the entrance. We’re to take our dinner in here, and I’m going to be shown where the system is kept.

The instant we close the door, Pressa reaches into her pocket and puts a pill in her mouth.

“What’s that?” I ask her.

“The antidote,” she murmurs to me before she swallows it. She makes a face. “Ugh, so bitter.”

“The antidote?” I shake my head in disbelief. “You’d planned for him to ask you to do something like that.”

She blinks. “Of course,” she replies. “You always have an antidote for every concoction you make. We feed our customers this stuff.”

I realize with a pang that she still talks about the apothecary as if her father were alive. “You handled that like you’ve always known how to do it,” I say.

She shakes her head, then motions for me to sit down on the bed beside her. “With any luck, he’s going to be down and feverish all night, tossing and turning in bed. I don’t expect him to wake up until late morning.”

I nod. “It should give us enough time to work,” I reply.

She looks at me. That lopsided smile I know so well from her appears on her lips, and for a second, it looks like she’s going to lean forward and kiss me. My heart leaps in terror and excitement at the thought.

I don’t know if Pressa saw something in my expression, because she abruptly backs away and clears her throat. “Remember the first drone race I ever took you to?” she says instead. “You were shaking so bad, I thought you were going to pass out.”

I laugh along with her nervously. It had only been a couple of years ago, but I felt ages younger then. “It was the first time I’d ever been to the Undercity, period,” I reply. “You didn’t even give me a heads-up. You just tossed me right into the fray with the bets and the crowds.”

“I was saving you some time. It’s better to jump into cold water all at once, instead of painfully edging yourself in.”

“Right.”

We’re silent for a moment. “Let’s say we succeed in all of this,” I say in a low voice. “Let’s say everything just resets back to how it used to be. Are you going to be okay? Your father?… His shop?”

Pressa shrugs, trying to play it cooler than I know she feels. “If we make it out of here in one piece, maybe the AIS will help out Dad’s apothecary, give me a stipend that lets me pay for the repairs.” Her words trail off, and for a moment, we sit in silence, the weight of her father’s death pressing down on us.

“I mean, I might have some connections,” I say to her. But I feel a pang in my chest. If for some reason our plan to interfere with the Level system doesn’t work, Pressa’s going to go back to her life in the Undercity, battling her way through the Levels just like everyone else. I can see the struggle in her eyes as she thinks the same thing.

Finally, she looks down and says, “If we make it out of all this, I’d like to leave the Undercity,” she says. “Go somewhere new. Find an adventure.” She’s silent for another beat. “I stayed for my father. Now he’s gone, and I don’t know what to do.”

Then she laughs and shakes her head, as if this is an impossible dream forever out of her reach.

I touch her hand. “You’ll know,” I tell her. “You always have.”

Pressa gives me a tired smile. We sit without speaking for a moment before she looks at me again. “Do you feel sorry for Hann?” she asks, her voice softer now. “I mean—I’m not saying that he’s someone we should sympathize with, but…”

Do I feel sorry for him? I’m about to say no, of course not … but something makes me stop. I think of the way Hann has to have his medicine tested. “A little,” I end up replying. And I realize that maybe she’s asking because she does.