Blair took a deep breath. "We prepare. We run drills tonight. We morize each other’s patterns. We establish clear communication protocols. And tomorrow, we crush the Foxes so completely that no one rembers they were ever near us."
"And if that doesn’t work?" Hikaru asked.
"It will work." Blair’s tone left no room for argunt. "It has to work."
The others nodded, but she could see the doubt in their eyes. They’d tried this before—endless drills, practice runs, coordination exercises. Sothing always broke down in execution. Usually Charles trying to protect her, or Dante doing his own thing, or Javier freezing up.
"Dismissed," she said finally. "et at the north field in two hours for drills. Co prepared."
They filed out one by one. Hikaru was the last to leave, pausing at the door.
"There’s sothing you should know about Monroe," he said.
Blair’s head snapped up. "What?"
"He’s dating Aurora Fitzgerald. The orange-haired second-year from Obsidian."
"Aurora? Why would she—" Blair stopped. Aurora was ranked twenty-third in the academy. A known party girl but surprisingly competent in combat. And now she was dating Monroe? "How long?"
"Don’t know. They went to Ventura this weekend."
Blair’s mind raced. Aurora had connections. Money. Maybe that explained Monroe’s sudden access to better gear, better nutrition. But it didn’t explain the physical transformation.
"Anything else?"
Hikaru hesitated. "He’s... different when he’s alone. More focused. More intentional. Like he’s conserving energy for sothing important."
"What does that an?"
"I’m not sure." Hikaru folded his arms. "But I don’t think it’s drugs or cheating. It’s sothing else. Like he’s operating with more information than the rest of us have."
Blair watched him carefully. Hikaru rarely offered observations unprompted. "Keep an eye on him. Anything unusual, tell imdiately."
Hikaru gave a single nod and left, the door clicking shut behind him.
Blair dropped into her chair and stared at the ceiling. Monroe had gone from nobody to threat in three weeks. Vale was publicly supporting him. Aurora—ranked twenty-third, connected, capable—was dating him. His physical stats had jumped at a rate that shouldn’t be possible.
She grabbed her phone and pulled up the training session photos she’d been collecting. There. Monroe from four weeks ago. Overweight, struggling through basic combat drills, his movents clumsy and uncertain.
She swiped to the next image. Monroe yesterday.
Leaner. Faster. His stance actually correct for the first ti. His eyes focused instead of scattered.
She swiped again. Monroe from this morning’s drills.
Even better. The difference was impossible to miss. In less than a month, he’d transford from soone who could barely finish a lap to soone who moved with purpose.
Blair pulled up more photos, arranging them chronologically. The progression was undeniable. Week one: disaster. Week two: less terrible. Week three: competent. Week four: actually dangerous.
Her thumb hovered over the images. Sothing about his eyes in the recent photo caught her attention. They seed... older. More aware. Like he was seeing things the rest of them missed.
Blair zood in. His face had changed too. Sharper jawline. Stronger features. The baby fat lted away to reveal soone who looked nothing like the desperate lottery kid who’d arrived three months ago.
A strange heat settled in her stomach as she studied his face. Anger, she told herself. Frustration at being outmaneuvered by soone who should have been a non-factor.
But there was sothing else too. Sothing that felt uncomfortably like fascination.
What was his secret? What had transford him from pathetic to threatening? From invisible to impossible to look away from?
Blair closed the photos and stood up. She needed to focus. Tomorrow’s gate was all that mattered. Beating Monroe and his squad. Proving Vale wrong.
She could figure out Monroe’s secret later. Right now, she had a squad to whip into shape and a reputation to salvage.
Blair walked to the door, paused, then pulled out her phone one more ti to look at Monroe’s face.
"Who are you really?" she whispered to the image.
The picture didn’t answer, but she could have sworn those amber eyes were laughing at her.
Rain pounded against the windows of the house as Blair reviewed footage from the Foxes’ previous gate clearances. The others were ant to join her fifteen minutes ago, but so far only Hikaru had shown up, sitting silently in the corner with a book about advanced shadow manipulation.
"They’re late," she said, checking her watch again.
Hikaru didn’t look up. "Charles is helping Dante with his equipnt. Javier is getting food."
"We don’t have ti for food. The gate is in twelve hours."
"People perform better when fed."
Blair shot him a glare which Hikaru didn’t see or chose to ignore. That was the problem with Hikaru—impossible to intimidate, impossible to read. Sotis she wondered why he’d agreed to join their squad at all. He could have had his pick of teams.
"What’s Monroe doing right now?" she asked, trying to sound casual.
"Training with his squad on the east field."
"In the rain?"
"Yes."
"That’s insane."
Hikaru finally looked up. "Is it? Tomorrow’s gate is a swamp bio. Practicing in adverse weather seems logical."
Blair hadn’t considered that. She made a ntal note to run so drills in the rain if there was ti after their strategy session.
"Has he ntioned anything about tomorrow? Their approach? Tactics?"
"We don’t discuss squad business."
"You live together."
"That doesn’t make us friends."
Blair suppressed her frustration. Getting information from Hikaru was like pulling teeth. "Have you noticed anything unusual about his routine? His food? Supplents? Training thods?"
Hikaru closed his book. "Why are you so fixated on Monroe?"
The question caught her off guard. "I’m not fixated. I’m gathering intelligence."
"On one specific mber of a five-person squad. At the exclusion of the others."
"Because he’s the variable that changed. Three weeks ago, the Foxes were middling at best. Now they’re ranked second, and the only significant difference is Monroe’s sudden improvent."
Hikaru studied her face with unnerving intensity. "You think he’s cheating."
"I think sothing doesn’t add up."
"People improve at different rates."
"Not like this."
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