Page 175 of Stealing Infinity (Stolen Beauty)

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The scene unfolds the same way it did back when I was the fresh recruit, only this time it feels entirely different, because the recruit is not me, but rather my best friend, Mason.

Also, much like I blamed Elodie, going by the scathing look Mason directs my way, he blames me.

“What have you done?” I say to Braxton as I rush toward my friend.

But Mason is quick to hold up a hand. “Don’t,” he says, his voice is stiff, his eyes so cold I immediately stop in my tracks. “Don’t act like you’re blameless. Don’t pretend we’re still friends.”

I stand frozen in place, aware of Jago, Killian, Elodie, Finn, and Oliver practically falling out of their seats to get a better view of the spectacle. But I don’t care what they think. All I want to know is how the one person I’ve really come to care about could do such a horrible thing to the only other person I care about, outside of my mom.

Braxton rakes a hand through his hair, skirts past my gaze, and settles on Killian.

Mason stands before me. His green and gold brocade overcoat drenched with rain, he wears a pair of tall rubber boots, like those the skipper gave me to wear on the boat ride to Gray Wolf, while a pair of blue high-heeled shoes dangle from his fingers. When I notice the state of his raw and bloodied knuckles, I can’t help but feel a surge of pride knowing that at least he didn’t go down without a fight.

“Mason, please,” I say. “I didn’t know, I—” But it’s no use, my words blow right past him.

As Mason glares at me through mascara-streaked eyes, Arthur appears.

After everyone introduces themselves, Arthur orders Jago to show Mason to his room, then tells everyone to disperse except me.

“Are you going to be okay?” Arthur’s obsidian gaze bores right through me.

On the surface, the question is benign. But I know what he’s really asking is if I’m going to be a problem.

If I’m going to continue to do things like jumping out of chairs and shouting in outrage.

If I’m going to insist on fighting an event that has already happened—that is completely beyond my ability to change.

And because I don’t know the answer, because I haven’t had a chance to sort through my feelings and the short list of responses Arthur might approve of, I lift my gaze to his and say, “I was caught off guard. It wasn’t what I expected.”

With a sharp nod, Arthur turns and motions for me to follow. Other than the click of our shoes on the bowling-alley-style hallway, we walk in silence.

When we reach the end, Arthur stops. “You’ve done well for yourself here.” He turns to face me. “What makes you think Mason won’t gain the same benefit as you?”

I start to say because unlike me, Mason has a shot at a future, he has something to lose. Instead, I say, “But what about his grandmother? She loves him and—”

“She signed the papers.” Arthur speaks with his usual quiet authority. “And she was happy to do so. Have you ever stopped to consider that maybe it’s not quite the act of abandonment you assume?”

I can feel him peering at me, but my face is so flushed with bitterness and rage, I can’t afford to meet his gaze until I get ahold of myself.

“You caught a glimpse of your mother expressing her excitement over the prospect of a new car and rain gutters, and you’ve made that the crux of your story. But what you didn’t see was the amount of hand-wringing that led up to that point. The assurances she insisted I give her that you’d be well looked after, well cared for—that I’d provide you the sort of opportunities she could never afford on her own. And so far, I think I’ve delivered, no?”

I don’t know how to respond. Not only because I have no way of knowing if he’s speaking the truth, but I also haven’t truly determined what it means to be here.

In some ways, many ways, Arthur is right. Coming here is the best thing that ever happened to me, and my life has obviously taken a turn for the better.

And yet, I can’t shake the feeling that Gray Wolf has yet to reveal its full self.

That there’s more to this place—something far darker, more sinister—than Arthur lets on. And, seeing as how he’s counting on me to gather all the missing pieces to the Antikythera Mechanism to get that job done, I can’t help but wonder if I’ve made a terrible mistake by returning from Versailles with the sun.

Back when Arthur told me he wanted to use the completed Antikythera to remake the world, I didn’t take him literally.

But now I’m sunk by the terrible feeling that maybe I should have.