Beside me, Naomi wrote furiously. Belle doodled crossbow modifications in the margins of her tablet. Jordan, true to his word, appeared to be writing something on his phone, possibly the actual will he'd threatened.
I tried to focus on the lecture. I really did. But my brain kept circling back to the observation platform. To Cassandra's three seconds of eye contact. To the professional surveillance I'd felt all morning.
The System had given me power. Real power. Three weeks ago I could barely run a mile without collapsing into a wheezing heap.
Now I had C-rank Endurance and C-rank Strength waiting to push into B with the next good training session. I had a library of stolen abilities including an A-rank combat power that could manifest dual scythes from pure death energy.
I had a support network of women who knew exactly what I was, what I took from them, and chose to help me anyway because they'd gotten something back in the exchange.
