After one week of classes...
The secret Vantaire sessions settled back into rhythm. Alia was back in the shadows again–diving into illegal network theory, combat-triggered encryption, ethics of intrusion. Stuff no normal nineteen-year-old should be learning.
Instructor Vos didn't smile. Callahan did, but only when explaining how to bypass facial recognition software.
By the end of each Vantaire session, her brain throbbed from the pressure of processing it all. But in a twisted way, she liked it.
---
In public, she was still Noctis.
Perfectly disguised. Perfectly exhausted.
Most of her afternoons were spent in theory classes about Mafia history and governance-charts, lineages, case studies on house rivalries.
And Carmen, still annoyingly unbothered as always.
Alia hadn't spoken to her in a week.
---
That day, she sat next to Kenzie.
Not her favorite choice, but the seating charts didn't care about her preferences.
They exchanged tired "hey"s, mostly because anything else would be weird.
But halfway through setting up her tablet, Alia felt the sideways glance. Kenzie was watching her. Like she had something jammed behind her teeth.
Alia squinted.
"You good?"
Kenzie paused. Tapped her stylus twice. Then looked up.
"You and Cade... you're close, right?"
Alia blinked.
"Define close."
Kenzie gave a half-laugh, the kind that comes before an awkward truth.
"Just–be careful, okay?"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Kenzie hesitated. Like the words might come with consequences. Then quietly:
"He's not what he seems. That's all."
The bell rang before Alia could pry further.
Kenzie turned away.
Class began.
And Alia sat there, brows drawn, jaw tense.
---
18:26 – Northwest Girls' Housing, Laundry Room
The day was over. Classes dismissed. Uniforms half-crumpled.
Tessa had lost her muffin-print stockings, and somehow, that had become everyone's problem.
"If I ever find the thief that took them," Tessa declared, dragging open a washer lid like it owed her money, "they're getting waterboarded with bleach."
Zuri rolled her eyes.
"You probably dropped them down a trash chute again."
"That was one time!"
Alia stood beside the dryer, arms crossed, head elsewhere.
Kenzie's words had been looping in her skull like a cursed playlist.
"He's not what he seems."
She turned to Zuri, quiet but sharp.
"Hey... can I ask you something?"
Zuri looked up from folding a hoodie.
"What?"
"About Cade."
"Why?"
Alia shrugged-too casual.
"I dunno. Just... is he always like this?"
Zuri narrowed her eyes slightly, trying to read her tone. But she didn't dig.
"He's annoying. But not the worst."
Then she paused. Like something surfaced.
"Last term, he was put in Timeout."
Alia turned.
"Timeout?"
Zuri smirked.
"You know, when a Sovereign punishes you by dropping your rank for weeks. It tanks your rep."
"Yeah I know what timeout is but, why?"
"He pissed off the Caelus Prefect. Your brother."
Alia's brows lifted.
"What did he do?"
Zuri shrugged.
"No one knows. Ajax never said. Just that Cade crossed a line."
Just then–Tessa shrieked in triumph.
"I FOUND THEM!"
She held up the infamous stockings like they were ancient relics.
Zuri scoffed and turned.
Conversation over.
But the pit in Alia's stomach? Still there.
Louder now.
---
08:42 – Northwest Girls' Housing, Room 314
There was nothing glamorous about mornings at St. Bernard's. Especially not after a 6am drill.
Tessa lay facedown on her bed like she'd melted into it. Her hair was still wet from the showers, her mouth half-open, a muffled complaint dying into her pillow.
"Why do my legs feel like I've been hit by a motorcycle?" she croaked.
Zuri, on the other hand, was pacing the room with her boots laced and jacket on, finishing her fifth cup of hot tea like she'd transcended physical exhaustion.
"Maybe if you didn't trip over your own feet every time we ran suicides, you'd feel less like roadkill," she said, sipping.
Alia chuckled dryly from her corner of the room. She had a heat patch on her shoulder and a tablet in her lap, skimming through her schedule.
"I've got Noctis Mafia Governance in eighteen minutes with that pretentious instructor who smells like Cuban cigars and authoritarianism."
Zuri raised a brow.
"You better not be late again. You'll end up being used as a case study for political disgrace."
Alia rolled her eyes and stood, stretching her sore limbs.
"As long as I don't collapse on the stairs, I'll be fine."
She got dressed-dark Noctis uniform with her sleek hair tied back. The chartreuse roots peeked through like a rebellion in silk. By the time she walked out the door, Tessa groaned in protest:
"Don't die out there."
---
10:02 - Noctis Lecture Wing
The Governance class was a blur. Mostly theory on power, alliances, and public executions that shaped the Mafia code of conduct. Alia's mind wandered. Kenzie didn't say anything else after yesterday. Cade didn't message her.
And Carmen...
Alia rubbed the side of her temple.
Focus.
---
13:17 - Vantaire Underground, Sector 8
The energy shift was immediate.
The moment she entered the sealed sector, her wristband clicked green. Temperature dropped. The air felt thinner, sharper-like breathing data instead of oxygen.
Callum Callahan stood by the central console, suited in a high-collared coat and surgical-looking gloves. Alder Vos was there too, a tablet in hand, his expression unreadable as usual.
"You're late," Vos said, not looking up.
"You say that every time," Alia replied, tossing her bag to the corner.
Callum turned toward her with a slow smile. There was a spark behind his eyes today. Something mischievous. Dangerous.
"How do you feel about criminal activity?" he asked.
Alia blinked. Then grinned.
"Depends. Are we talking misdemeanors or federal crimes?"
Vos slid a file across the desk.
"Corporate infiltration. Your target is Delcroix Industrial-a shell company used by the Department of Ethics and Compliance. The same people responsible for last year's blackout in the Western Grid."
Alia flipped open the file.
"You want me to sabotage a government-funded operation?"
Callum leaned forward.
"We want you to test their defenses. If you happen to break a few things... well, accidents happen."
"Why me?"
"Because this task isn't assigned," Vos said. "It's gifted. You're ready."
The screen behind them lit up with blueprints. Surveillance layout. Backend scripts. External servers.
"You have seven hours," Callum added, "to build your interface, deploy your dummy bot, and breach the outer firewall."
"Once you're in," Vos said, "you'll receive a second packet."
"You've done the theory, Alia," Callum said softly. "This is your first real operation. Welcome to the deep end."
Her chest tightened.
But it wasn't fear.
It was something else. Exhilaration. Purpose. The kind of raw, burning joy that only came when someone finally said you're ready.
She picked up the datapad. Let the blueprints load.
"Seven hours," she repeated. "Piece of cake."
---
14:56 - Command Pod 3, Vantaire Training Hub
She was already at work.
Cords sprawled across the desk. Her screen showed a tangle of code in five languages. She cracked her knuckles, took a sip of electrolyte juice, and kept going.
There was no time to think about Cade. No time to analyze Carmen's last expression.
This was her moment.
And for once–Alia didn't want to run from it.