The system pinged in the corner of my vision. A notification about potential bond development. I dismissed it before Natalia noticed my attention wandering.
Carmen finally stood up from my lap, and I immediately felt twenty pounds lighter. She stretched like a cat, completely unbothered by the dozen death glares aimed at her back.
"Well, that was cozy." She winked at me over her shoulder. "Same time tomorrow, kiddo?"
"I would rather fight another A-Rank."
"Liar." She sauntered over to lean against the wall beside Braxton, who looked like he wanted to pretend he hadnât witnessed any of that.
Natalia appeared at my side before I could take a full breath. Her hand found my thigh, her grip possessive. Her purple eyes were still fixed on Carmen.
"Satori." Her voice was honeyed poison. "Is there something youâd like to tell me about our Teaching Assistant?"
"She has boundary issues?"
"She was sitting on you."
"She does that. To everyone. Ask Juan."
Juanâs voice drifted up from the floor. "Itâs true. She used me as a pillow during last weekâs movie night. QuĂ© fastidio."
"See?" I gestured at the sleeping strategist. "Iâm not special."
Nataliaâs grip tightened. "You are absolutely special. And you are absolutely mine."
The temperature in the room dropped several degrees. I wasnât sure if that was Celesteâs Aspect reacting to the tension or just Nataliaâs sheer killing intent.
Braxton cleared his throat loudly. "If youâre all done with the soap opera, we have actual business."
He pulled up a holographic display from his battered datapad. A map of Sector 7 appeared, dotted with pulsing red markers.
"The VHC has declared Open Gate Season."
The room went quiet. Even Juan cracked one eye open.
"Low-level Gates are popping up all over the sector," Braxton continued. "E-Rank through C-Rank, mostly. The Commission has lifted academy restrictions for the five guilds."
Marco pumped his fist. "Hell yeah! Real missions!"
"Donât celebrate yet." Braxtonâs expression soured. "This isnât charity. The VHC wants to test us. Push us. See which guilds can handle real pressure."
"Whatâs the catch?" Isabelle asked. Her wine-red hair caught the light as she turned, her crimson eyes sharp.
"Multiple catches." Braxton ticked them off on his fingers. "First: money. Students keep forty percent of loot value. The rest goes to the academy."
Juan sat up. Forty percent of his attention was now officially engaged.
"Second: points. Every clear adds to our Guild Score. Weâre currently ranked first." Braxton pointed to a leaderboard floating beside the map. "Everyone wants to knock us down. The Phantoms have been running extra training sessions. The Vipers are apparently âstrategizing,â whatever that means for those snake-faced nerds."
"Third: Gates have stability limits." His voice hardened. "You canât send a mob. Maximum team size is six."
Six.
The number hit me like a punch to the gut.
I did the math automatically. Years of survival instinct made mental arithmetic second nature.
The girls. Natalia, Emi, Skylar, Soomin, Noah, Akari, Hikari, Isabelle. Eight.
The newcomers. Celeste, Monica. Two.
The boys. Juan, Raphael, Jaime, Marco, Malachi, Jacob, me. Seven.
Seventeen active combatants. Plus Carmen so that would be eighteen.
Maximum team size: six.
That meant at least three teams.
And every single person in this room expected to be on my team.
I looked around, really looked, and saw the minefield I had built for myself.
Nataliaâs hand was still on my thigh. Her purple eyes burned with the absolute certainty that she would be by my side. Always. No exceptions. The covenant bond between us hummed in the back of my mind, a constant reminder that we were connected in ways that went beyond the physical.
Emi sat forward on the couch, her sapphire eyes wide and hopeful. She was my healer. She had kept everyone alive in that cathedral. In her mind, there was no universe where she wouldnât be on my team.
Skylar pushed off the wall, her violet eyes finding mine. Her expression said what her words wouldnât:
You promised me excitement. Donât you dare leave me behind.
Noah stood behind her, and I caught her looking at me before quickly glancing away. Her professional mask slipped for just a moment, revealing something softer underneath.
Soominâs eyes flickered blue.
And then there were the newcomers.
Celeste watched me with analytical interest, like I was a puzzle she intended to solve. She wanted to see how I commanded. How I made decisions. Whether I was worth following.
Monica clutched her bag, waiting. Hoping someone would give her a chance to prove she was more than a shield.
I canât fit them all.
The realization crashed over me like cold water.
If I take Natalia, Emi gets jealous. If I take Emi, Natalia commits murder. If I take Celeste, they both commit murder. If I leave Skylar behind, she gets bored and stabs someone. If I donât bring the Fox, Soomin has a meltdown and levels a city block.
And Noah needs to guard Celeste but she keeps looking at me like Iâm the most interesting thing in the room, which is going to cause problems.
So many problems.
Braxtonâs voice cut through my spiral. "Have the rosters on my desk by morning. Donât screw it up."
He grabbed Carmen by the collar before she could resettle on my lap and dragged her toward the door. She waved lazily over her shoulder.
"Good luck, kiddo. Youâre gonna need it."
The door closed behind them.
And every single person in the room turned to look at me.
The silence was deafening. Even Juan was fully awake now, propped up on one elbow with his green eyes fixed on my face.
They were waiting.
All of them.
For me to pick my team.
Itâs like gym class,
I thought wildly.
Except everyone has superpowers and at least four of them want to kiss me.
Maybe five.
Possibly six if you count the Fox as a separate entity.
I grabbed the armrests of the Boss Chair and pushed myself to my feet. My ribs screamed in protest. I ignored them.
"Alright." My voice came out steady. Confident. Like I had any idea what I was doing. "We have three teams to build. Alpha, Beta, Gamma."
I pulled up my datapad, the screen glowing in the dim light of the common room.
"Letâs figure out who makes the cut."