Chapter 125 | An Invitation to the Summit

I let go of Naomi’s hand.

"We should get food before Misato’s meeting."

"I’m not hungry."

"You need to eat anyway. The buff burned through everything yesterday."

"I ate breakfast."

"Toast and coffee doesn’t count."

She smiled. Small but real.

"Fine. But you’re paying."

"With what money?"

"Figure it out."

We walked to the dining hall. My shoulder throbbed where the nurse had applied that cold gel but the pain stayed manageable. The bruising would fade. The bite marks would close. Everything healed if you gave it time.

The dining hall was half empty. Post-ceremony chaos meant most students were either celebrating or hiding in their rooms. We loaded trays. Naomi grabbed her health-conscious quinoa bowl situation. I went for maximum protein. Chicken breast. Rice. Vegetables that looked like they came from an actual farm.

Belle sat at our usual table by the windows. Jordan was face down on the table. Possibly dead.

"Hey corpse," I said.

Jordan’s hand moved. Middle finger extended slowly.

"He’s been like that for twenty minutes," Belle said. "I think the rankings broke him."

"I’m fine," Jordan mumbled into the table. "Just resting my eyes."

"You’re drooling."

"It’s tactical drool."

Belle looked at me. Then at Naomi. Then at our joined hands.

"So you two worked it out."

"We’re working on it," Naomi said.

"Good. I need you both functional for whatever Blair’s planning."

I sat. Naomi sat beside me. Close enough our shoulders touched.

"You think she’ll do something today?" I asked.

"She already did something. She lost. That’s the thing that matters to her." Belle bit into her sandwich. "The question is what she does next."

My phone buzzed.

MISATO: Meeting at my place. 1400 hours. Don’t be late.

I showed Belle the message.

"Why her place?" Belle asked. "The common room’s closer."

"Because Blair’s probably there waiting to ambush us," Jordan said without lifting his head.

"That’s. Actually a good point."

"I contain multitudes. Also I’m sleeping through the meeting."

"No you’re not," Naomi said.

"Watch me."

Belle kicked his chair. Jordan groaned but didn’t move.

I checked the time. 12:47. Gave us an hour.

"What’s Misato’s place like?" Naomi asked.

"Big as hell."

Belle’s eyes narrowed. "Why would Misato have us meet at her actual apartment?"

"Because Blair lives there too," I said. "Summit House. Elite Ten students get the private places up north."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"So we’re walking into Blair’s house. After you made that insane bet. After she offered you money to throw the assessment."

"Sounds about right."

"We’re going to die."

"Probably not."

"If I’m going to die," Jordan said into the table. "Tell my family I loved them."

"Your family will be fine," Naomi said. "You’re being dramatic."

"I’m being realistic. Blair Davenport’s house. Where she has all her expensive things and probably security systems and maybe hired goons."

"She doesn’t have goons."

"You don’t know that."

Belle finished her sandwich. Wiped her hands on a napkin with that careful precision she applied to everything.

"If Blair wanted us dead she’d have done it already. This meeting is about something else."

"Like what?" Naomi asked.

"Like Misato proving she can lead a squad that ranks higher than Blair’s. In Blair’s own house. With Blair watching."

That. Was probably accurate.

We finished eating. Jordan eventually lifted his head and consumed food on autopilot. The four of us left together and headed north toward the ridge where the Summit Houses sat overlooking campus like modern glass fortresses.

The walk took twenty minutes. The paths curved upward. My legs complained. Endurance at D-rank helped but didn’t eliminate the basic problem of climbing hills while carrying extra weight.

Naomi stayed beside me the entire time. Belle walked ahead with Jordan shambling behind her like a zombie extra from a low budget film.

The Summit Houses appeared around a bend. Ten identical structures. Glass walls. Clean lines. Architecturally perfect and completely sterile.

"Jesus," Belle breathed.

"Yeah."

"They live here?"

"Elite Ten privilege."

"That’s not fair."

"No. It’s not."

Naomi squeezed my hand. Hard.

We found the address. House Seven. Misato’s nameplate on the door beside another nameplate that read BLAIR DAVENPORT in expensive engraved letters.

I knocked.

The door opened immediately. Misato stood there in casual clothes. Tank top and shorts. Her lime green hair down for once. She looked. Different. Less like a drill sergeant and more like an actual nineteen year old.

"You’re on time."

"Shocking. I know."

She stepped aside. We filed in.

The interior made my apartment look like a cardboard box. Massive open floor plan. Kitchen with marble counters. Living room with furniture that probably cost more than tuition. Stairs leading up to a second floor. Everything clean. Everything expensive. Everything designed to remind you exactly where you stood on the food chain.

"Nice place," Belle said.

"It’s temporary."

Misato gestured toward the couch.

"Sit. We’re waiting on one more person."

"Who?" I asked.

"You’ll see."

We sat. The couch was stupid comfortable. The kind of comfortable that made you angry because your own furniture was objectively trash by comparison.

Jordan immediately laid sideways and closed his eyes.

"Drinks?" Misato asked.

"Water’s fine," Naomi said.

"Same," Belle added.

"Jordan?"

"Coma," Jordan mumbled.

Misato looked at me.

"Monroe. Come help me grab drinks."

I stood. Followed her into the kitchen.

The space was ridiculous. Professional grade appliances. Double oven. Island seating. Refrigerator the size of a small car.

"Check the pantry," Misato said. "Sparkling water’s in there. Grab five bottles."

I opened the pantry door.

Holy shit.

The pantry was bigger than my bedroom. Shelves stocked floor to ceiling. Organic snacks. Import chocolates. Protein bars that probably cost twenty dollars each. Sparkling water in glass bottles with labels I’d never seen before.

I grabbed one. Read the label.

PERRIER JOUËT. MINERAL WATER FROM THE FRENCH ALPS. $47 PER BOTTLE.

Forty seven dollars. For water.

Must be nice to live in a world where forty seven dollar water was just. Available. In the pantry. Next to the fifteen dollar granola bars.

"What are your poverty fat fingers doing on my sparkling water?"

I turned around.

Blair Davenport stood in the kitchen doorway. Hands on her hips. Red hair perfect despite probably just waking up. Ice blue eyes locked on me with enough hatred to freeze the Pacific.

She wore grey sweatpants. Tight white tank top. No bra. The outline of her nipples visible through the thin fabric. Her body was. Obscene. 39F according to Snake Eyes when I’d checked her at the assembly. Tiny waist. Flared hips. The kind of proportions that belonged in hentai not real life.

She walked toward me. Each step deliberate. Predatory.

"I asked you a question."

"Getting drinks."

"Those are my drinks."

"Misato told me to grab them."

"Misato doesn’t make decisions about my property."

She stopped two feet away. Close enough I could smell her. Expensive perfume. Rose and something darker. Amber maybe.

My system pinged.

◆ SNAKE EYES ACTIVE ◆

Target: Blair Davenport

Rank: Unranked (First Year)

Bust: 39F

Essence: Platinum Tier

Attraction: 3%

Platinum. Of course she was Platinum.

And three percent attraction meant something had shifted. She’d been zero when I saw her at orientation. The bet must have registered somewhere in her brain as me being worthy of minimal acknowledgment.

"You cost me twenty thousand points yesterday," Blair said.

"How’s that work?"

"My father pays bonuses for top five rankings. I would have been first in the entire first year class."

"Sounds like a you problem."

Her jaw tightened. The temperature in the kitchen rose noticeably. Actual heat. Her ability leaking through emotional control.

"Everything about you is a me problem. You shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t have passed the assessment. You certainly shouldn’t have ranked higher than any squad I’m involved with."

"And yet."

"And yet nothing. You got lucky. The alpha spawned randomly. If it hadn’t shown up you’d have cleared in fifty minutes with a C rating and nobody would remember your name."

"But the alpha did show up. And I killed it."

"With a spear you barely know how to hold."

"Doesn’t matter how pretty the form is if the monster’s dead."

Her face flushed. Anger or something else. Hard to tell.

"You think you’re clever. Making that ridiculous bet. Turning my own proposal against me. But you don’t understand what you’ve done."

"I understand perfectly. If my squad finishes top five you join us and wear my collar for a semester."

"That will never happen."

"Then you have nothing to worry about."

She stepped closer. Six inches between us now. I could see the fine detail of her face. The small scar above her eyebrow hidden under foundation. The way her pupils dilated slightly when angry.

"I’m going to enjoy watching you fail."

"Looking forward to it."

"When you do. When you’re mine. I’m going to make sure you remember exactly what happens to lottery trash who forgets their place."

"Kinky."

The temperature spiked. Blue white flames danced around her knuckles. The marble countertop started smoking where her hand rested.

"Get. Out. Of. My. Kitchen."