Date: Same day

  Location: ITW: Interrogation Watch

  Mission: Be Entertained

  “I’ll ask again,” White announced, voice steady but edged. “Why were you placed in the C.A.R.G.O Foundation?”

  “They don’t tell us much of anything, alright?” Marcus hissed, his voice sharp but faltering at the edges. “Not much. In fact, it would be smarter to assign spies to a mission without telling them why.”

  “But they don’t do that, do they?” White pressed, eyes narrowing. “Your sister was in C.A.R.G.O too.”

  “My sister has no idea either,” Marcus snapped back.

  And just like that, I caught it. The slip. He said it would be smarter—not that they actually did it. White caught it too, his lips curling into a thin line. Nikki, on the other hand, seemed lost, blinking in confusion.

  “But they don’t do that… do they,” White repeated.

  Marcus’s smirk cracked, fading into something tight and defensive. White leaned forward, cracking his knuckles as if he was about to strike, then simply adjusted the folder before him like he was setting up to read scripture.

  “Now, unless I’m mistaken,” White said evenly, “this is from your sister’s high school graduation. She’s also about to graduate as a junior spy. Congratulations, I suppose.”

  Marcus glared but didn’t answer.

  White cleared his throat, quoting from the folder: “‘I wouldn’t be able to survive without my brother, Marcus. I can only hope with all my heart that I won’t have to watch his burial. Pain would be the epitome of my life.’ Her words.”

  Marcus’s jaw clenched. “But you’re interrogating me—or, based on your words, inspecting me.”

  White nodded once, eyes unblinking. “And you’ll be the one to make pain the epitome of her life.”

  Then he pulled out his phone. Marcus’s eyes widened instantly.

  I could feel my own stomach knot as the room tensed. Nikki’s mouth fell open. Tisiah froze. Even I couldn’t hide the shock, though Mari and the security guard remained statues.

  Two men entered, both clad in gray suits, dragging someone between them.

  Tilli.

  “Is that the great Tilli Lowman?” White asked mockingly. “You’ve been quite the con-girl, haven’t you? Sitting behind those front desks, covering your brother’s back.”

  “D—” she began.

  “I didn’t say you could speak.” White’s voice lashed out. “Put the gun on his head.”

  A pistol was pressed against Marcus’s temple before the words finished leaving his mouth.

  The guard in the corner spoke up in a tone almost bored, as if giving the warning on a roller coaster: “If you are sensitive to this, you are free to leave.”

  None of us moved. We couldn’t. Walking out would’ve been social suicide, worse than fainting in combat practice. I thought about closing my eyes, but shame pinned them open.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  White leaned back. “Take a good look at your sister, Marcus. Every detail. Because if you keep dodging my question, this is the last time you’ll see her. The last time she’ll see you.”

  Marcus stayed silent.

  Frozen.

  If it were me? I’d be singing confessions back to the day I was born. Or blowing the walls off with a shockwave, consequences be forgotten. That seemed smarter. But Marcus didn’t have his wand. His wind was useless without it. He was stuck.

  “So they do do this,” Nikki muttered, eyes wide.

  “This is rare,” Tisiah whispered back. “First time I’ve ever seen it. Shows how important this really is.”

  “And they paired you three with me,” Mari muttered under her breath.

  “Can’t pick and choose,” Tisiah replied quickly, as if repeating it would make it less true.

  Down below, Marcus’s face trembled. He looked at his sister, desperate to speak, desperate to find a way out. She tried to form words but froze too, trapped between fear and instinct.

  Finally, he croaked, “I was put in… for the very reason why I’m here.”

  White’s head tilted. “I didn’t ask for riddles. I asked—wait.” His eyes narrowed. “The TSA wanted us to find you?”

  Marcus nodded slowly. “Just about right. Here’s why: they believe someone with great power is inside your facility.”

  “Who?” White shot back immediately.

  “They never told me. Not who. Not how. Just that they’re here.”

  White studied him, lips pursed. His expression wavered between executioner and puzzled analyst. “Is this person… top of the MP system board?”

  Marcus’s eyes widened, shock flashing across his face. “That’s what MP is…” he muttered under his breath.

  White’s eyes widened even further, realization hitting hard. He glanced at the agents restraining Tilli and gave a curt nod. They began to drag her out.

  “Enjoy your stay here,” White said coldly, standing as he exited the room.

  The tension in the air didn’t vanish—it lingered like smoke.

  I turned to Nikki, who squinted at me. “Why did he guess that?”

  “Why wouldn’t he?” Mari hissed. “It makes perfect sense.”

  We were escorted back down to the first level. After handing us our passes, the guards dismissed us. But the reprieve was short-lived. By then, fifth period had already begun—and that was the one class I shared with Jamal and Maddie.

  Lucky me.

  The trek to Mr. Chiffon’s classroom felt like walking into a trap. I climbed the stairs, moved down the hall, and finally pushed open the door ten minutes late.

  Mr. Chiffon was already at his desk, facing the class. Thin white hair. Shaved face, though the ghost of a beard still outlined his jaw. Purple polo tucked into khakis, black shoes that screamed thrift-store charity.

  “Connor,” he said flatly. “Contemplating skipping class?”

  “No…” I mumbled, quiet enough to sound like I was confessing to a crime.

  He nodded, unimpressed. I handed him my pass, and he pointed to a seat.

  “As I was saying,” Chiffon continued. “Today, you’ll receive a packet. Simple review of yesterday’s lesson. Pass them out, please.” He gestured to a nearby student.

  I shuffled to my seat, only then noticing Jamal and Maddie across the room. They were separated by some kid with his hood up, face planted on the desk, but their eyes—yeah, they were on me. I didn’t need to look long to know it.

  Still, they didn’t move. Not yet. Maybe I’d survive.

  The student began distributing packets, row by row. I kept my eyes low, stealing glances at Jamal and Maddie, waiting for them to make their move. Nothing. For now.

  Then my phone buzzed.

  Nikki.

  I answered quickly, muttering, “Hey, Ni—Dylan? What’s up?” My eyes flicked toward Jamal. Still nothing.

  “Dylan? Bro, you’ve got more friends now?”

  “That’s a pretty good codename,” I whispered back. “Better than most.”

  Nikki snorted. “Why Dylan though? I’d have accepted Shaniqua.”

  “That was the first thing you thought of, wasn’t it?” I shot back.

  She sighed. “Anyway. Remember what Lowman said? That the person they’re looking for is probably the top of the MP list?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Guess who it is,” she said.

  The words drained me instantly.

  “…Malachi.”

  “Bingo.” Nikki’s voice dropped. “Oh… well, not much of a surprise, I guess. But look at it this way—it’s an opportunity. You save Malachi, and you’ll look superior in September’s eyes. You might even win her over.”

  My heart kickstarted again. Maybe this wasn’t the end of me after all.

  “There are two routes,” Nikki continued. “One, figure out who the mole is and expose them. That makes you Malachi’s ally, and you’ll be the academy’s hero. Though September might still choose him. Or two, you defeat Malachi yourself—take him down, stand above him. Then you’re greater than Malachi. You’d be in the history books of the academy, maybe even the YMPA. But that path means going head-to-head with him and painting a target on your back for the mole. Both options mean saving him.”

  The flood of information spun in my head like a tornado. Two impossible roads, each twisted with risk.

  And yet, through the storm of thoughts, one question broke free.

  “What if I do both?”