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“Whose?” Moses interrupted. He cringed at his own outburst, sending Isobel an apologetic look. “Sorry, but he showed us the etchings and then started muttering about substitution ciphers and then decided to impersonate a fucking statue and hasn’t said a word since. I’m losing my fucking mind here.”

“Yes.” Elijah was unfazed. “Ivan—or whoever did this—used a simple substitution cipher, which makes me think they had very little time to prepare.”

“So it’s a phone number?” Isobel pressed.

“For a journalist,” Elijah said, plucking the USB from her fingers and striding back to his laptop.

He opened the screen and began to read something aloud for the rest of them.

“Amina Al-Fahim is a prominent investigative journalist known for her ground-breaking reporting on global human rights abuses, environmental issues, and government corruption. Amina’s investigative work has had a profound impact on shaping global discussions around corporate malfeasance and political accountability. ”

“Holy shit,” Mikel muttered, glancing up to meet Kalen’s eyes.

Something passed between them. A strange monster made of warring disbelief and hope, like the day they thought would never come, had suddenly appeared right before them, waving smugly from somewhere in the near future.

Elijah continued, “Born in Yemen to parents of Egyptian descent, Amina works for the New York Times, where she has led several high-profile investigations. Since Amina prefers to keep a low profile, the full scope of her contributions are unknown, but we do know that her reporting has taken her to conflict zones in the Middle East, Africa, and Southeast Asia, where she seems to have had a hand in exposing human trafficking rings, corporate-led environmental destruction, and the geopolitical tensions behind several significant humanitarian crises. She has also worked extensively on stories related to corporate accountability and the relationship between big business and government power. Her most recent work, a Pulitzer Prize winner, exposed the costs of corporate exploitation in the African mining industry, bringing global attention to the human rights violations of major international corporations.” Elijah snapped his screen shut.

“Basically, the exact person most suited to exposing Ironside for what it is just happens to have her phone number carved into the back of the exact smoking gun that she’ll need to take them down. ”

They all sat with that for a moment before Isobel remembered Elijah’s opening words. “Why would we need to run?”

“Ah, shit.” That had come from Gabriel, his russet eyes widening slightly, the light tan of his skin taking on an ashen pallor. “You’re right.”

Everyone else turned away from him instantly, back to Elijah, impatiently waiting for an explanation.

“The red rooms in the Stone Dahlia have no recording equipment in them, right?” he said.

“Probably because if any of their more critical clientele discovered any, there would be hell to pay. On top of that, the Stone Dahlia is the only real way for most humans to come face to face with the Gifted students, and they started bugging the Icon Cafe this year. So obviously?—”

“She has to be my next private date,” Isobel surmised.

“Exactly.” Elijah nodded at her. “That is if we can get her in there. This is a woman who clearly takes her privacy very seriously. I had to do a bit of digging, and I still only found an older picture of her from college and another more recent group photo from when she won her Pulitzer, but she turned her head right as the photo was taken. We might be able to get her in here?—”

“What if she’s already in?” Gabriel murmured, staring thoughtfully at his lap. He glanced up. “What exactly did Ivan say about the USB?”

Isobel chewed on her lip, searching through her jumbled recollection. “He said he had something dangerous. He said it could hurt him and me and everyone connected to or associated with us?—”

“He mentioned people associated with him?” Gabriel pressed.

She tried to recall his exact words. “My friends and associates.” She nodded. “Those were his words. He called the USB a bomb and said it would contaminate everyone it came into contact with.”

“I think you’re right,” Elijah said softly, though he was looking at Gabriel. “She must already be involved.”

“So why wouldn’t he just hand her the USB himself?” Kilian asked .

“Because he doesn’t want to be involved,” Kalen answered. “He tried to pass the USB to the only person here he trusts. Me. He knows I’ll do what needs to be done. And he knows I’ll leave him out of it.”

“How the fuck did he even get into it?” Moses asked.

Elijah picked up the USB from the arm of the chaise, turning it before his eyes.

“I have absolutely no idea. What I do know is that as soon as Amina Al-Fahim breaks this story, they’re going to figure out that she got into the Stone Dahlia, and then they’re going to figure out that the last person she spoke to was …

” He trailed off, his light blue eyes lifting to fix on her.

“Isobel,” Theodore rumbled, the word brushing heat against the top of her head. His arms tightened around her like someone was already threatening to tear her away from him.

Kalen said, “You’re right. We’re going to need to run before that story breaks, and we’ll need to stay hidden until everyone implicated is rounded up by the authorities. We can’t run too early, or it’ll tip them off. We also can’t leave it too late.”

“No amount of popularity is going to save us from them,” Mikel added.

“Not once we’ve pulled the rug out from under them and they have nothing left to lose.

But … even if we manage to get Amina Al-Fahim in there next week and hand the USB over, there’s no guarantee that she’ll be able to publish immediately.

She’ll need to give us a rough timeline and adequate warning. ”

“There are too many moving parts here to plan a safe path,” Elijah warned lowly.

Kalen suddenly turned on Isobel, his amber eyes burning with fury and possessiveness.

“The next person to see you naked dies. The next person to touch you dies. I’m not being dramatic.

I’m not trying to scare you. I’m telling you the truth as I know it.

It’s not that I can’t hold them back. It’s that I won’t.

You’re not Ironside’s toy. You’re not Ironside’s commodity.

You’re not their product, their prostitute, or their puppet.

You’re a world-class talent. One of the best dancers I’ve ever seen.

You’re an accomplished person who deserves a place in this world, and the next unlucky fucker to treat you like less than that is going to die . Is that understood?”

You’re an accomplished person who deserves a place in this world .

Nobody had ever said anything remotely like that to her before. It conjured impossible images of her stepping onto the street in the morning, surrounded by people who were free to do as they pleased, as she decided where the day might take her.

Go to a cafe?

See a movie?

Eat something terribly fatty for breakfast with Sophia and Bellamy? They would be smiling and talking about the trip they were planning for the weekend and all the fast-food places Sophia would force them to stop at along the way .

She could take a dance class just because she wanted to, and then, after, she could go to a place that she called home.

That they called home. Somewhere warm and safe, where there was no memory of her cowering from her father’s heavy footfalls, no soft echoes of the settlement songs her mother used to sing.

Their home would struggle to contain all the Alphas, but that would be okay because they would be free to leave if they wanted to and find a bigger home.

Suddenly, she burst into tears.

Theodore curled over her as though he could absorb her emotions and spare her from them, his breath unsteady against the top of her head, his amber scent so warm and grounding that it almost immediately soothed the jagged sobs threatening to unravel her.

Kilian’s hands wrapped around the outside of her thigh, his grip swallowing her leg, and Kalen’s thumb stroked gently over the sensitive skin along the inside of her ankle.

“I didn’t mean to make you cry, Illy,” he rumbled gently.

“I just …” She heaved in a breath, an embarrassed laugh escaping her lips.

“I’ve never even pictured it. What it would look like if I really was a person who deserved to exist. I’ve never tried to imagine life like that.

Without Ironside, we have no pathway to residency.

If we can’t even play this game, then there are no prizes.

If we take them down … we go down with them. ”

“Not necessarily,” Gabriel said. “We could take down the Stone Dahlia and all the officials implicated in running it, and Ironside could be left standing, as painfully relevant as ever, under new management.”

“We could just … keep running?” Kilian’s entrancing face was no longer painted with gentle attention.

The angular planes were harsh with ferocity, an edge of savageness in the pale, yellow-green eyes that were usually sly or heavy-lidded.

“We could leave all this behind. Not go back to the settlements. Or who knows? Maybe this Amina Al-Fahim woman might actually make a difference? Maybe people will actually wake the fuck up to what’s happening.

Maybe this is something the world won’t be able to sweep under the rug. ”

“Maybe,” Cian said sadly, his expression thoughtful as he stared down at his hands. “Maybe this was their plan.” He was running his thumb along his knuckles, briefly brushing the tattoos stamped over his fingers.

“Who’s plan?” Isobel asked.

“The gods.” He gave her a short, rueful smile. “It’s okay, I know you think it’s a little crazy.”