Chapter 80 | Networking and Other Crimes

I stood on shaky legs, my body protesting every movement after the exam. My muscles didn’t hurt exactly—Boundless Stamina was a hell of a drug—but they remembered the stress. The impact of each Blitz. The strain of pushing Spectral Reach past its comfort zone repeatedly.

"So what’s your story?" Felicity asked, falling into step beside me as we walked away from the simulation field. "Besides the whole ’manifested two weeks ago’ thing the news won’t shut up about."

"Not much to tell." I rolled my shoulders, feeling the joints pop. "Parents died when I was eight. Diane Fitzgerald took me in. Been living with her and Sloane ever since."

"Wait, wait, wait." Felicity stopped walking, her blue eyes widening. "Diane Fitzgerald? The Diane Fitzgerald who runs half the Hero PR in California?"

"That’s the one."

"And Sloane Fitzgerald is...what, your sister?"

I laughed. "Definitely not my sister."

Felicity’s eyebrows shot up, and a slow smile spread across her face. She tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. "Ohhh, so she’s your girlfriend?"

"That’s...a recent development."

"Tea!" She clapped her hands together. "You have to tell me everything."

"Really don’t."

"But I need to know!" She stepped closer, her perfume hitting me like a wave. Vanilla and something citrusy. "You can’t just drop a bomb like ’I’m dating Diane Fitzgerald’s daughter’ and leave me hanging. That’s cruel."

I smirked despite myself. "We’ve known each other since we were eight. Started training together when I manifested. One thing led to another."

"That’s the worst summary ever." Felicity bumped her shoulder against mine. "Fine, keep your secrets, hot stuff. But I’m getting that story eventually."

The nickname caught me off guard. I’d never been "hot stuff" to anyone before the System turned me into a walking hormone factory.

"Your turn," I deflected. "What’s your story?"

"Born awesome, stayed awesome." She grinned, twirling in a small circle as we walked. "Mom works in fashion, Dad’s in TV production. I manifested at seven during a school recital when I got stage fright and made everyone see the performance I was supposed to give instead of me freezing up."

"That’s...actually impressive thinking for a seven-year-old."

"Right?" She flipped her hair dramatically. "Been creating illusions ever since. Got pretty good at it too."

We reached the exit gate where applicants were filtering out toward the parking lot and gathering areas. Felicity stopped and turned to face me fully.

"Hey," she said, suddenly serious. "Thanks again for coming back for me. That was real hero shit."

"Anyone would have done it."

"No, they wouldn’t have." She shook her head. "The exact opposite, actually. Most people were running away. You ran toward the giant murder robot."

I shrugged. "Just seemed like the right call."

"Well, it was." Felicity pulled her phone out and held it expectantly. "Give me your number. I’m going to need someone to hang with when we both get into Halloran."

The confidence was nice. I took her phone and punched in my number, then handed it back.

"Lukas Belmont," she read, saving the contact. "The Force Manipulation boy who tackles girls to save them from killer robots."

"That’s going on my business cards."

She laughed, bright and genuine. "I’ll text you. For study purposes, obviously."

"Obviously."

Felicity took a step back, tossing me a wave. "Bye, bestie! Don’t be a stranger!"

She turned and walked away, her pink athletic shorts hugging curves that the Oracle Feed helpfully informed me were generating a seventy-three percent male attention ratio among nearby applicants.

Not that I needed the Feed to tell me that. I wasn’t dead.

The way she moved was hypnotic. Each step made the fabric stretch and shift in ways that short-circuited higher brain functions. My eyes followed the rhythm of it, mesmerized by the confident swing in her step.

A chill ran down my spine.

The temperature hadn’t dropped. The sun was still shining. But something cold and dangerous had just entered my immediate vicinity.

I turned around slowly.

Sloane stood five feet away, arms crossed under her chest, pink hair falling loose around her shoulders. Her blue eyes were narrowed to dangerous slits, and her jaw was set in a hard line.

"Friend of yours?" she asked, her voice deceptively calm.

"Just met her during the exam," I said carefully. "She was sitting next to me in the auditorium."

"Uh-huh." Sloane’s eyes tracked Felicity’s retreating form. "And that required getting her number because...?"

"Networking. Hero business." I took a cautious step toward Sloane. "How’d your exam go?"

Sloane’s gaze snapped back to me. "Don’t change the subject."

"I’m not. I genuinely want to know how you did."

"Forty-seven points." Her chin lifted slightly. "Second highest in my field."

I whistled. "That’s my girl. Always overachieving."

"Stop trying to distract me with compliments."

"Is it working?"

Her lips twitched, fighting a smile. "No."

"Come on." I reached out and patted her head gently. "You know you’re the only one for me."

Sloane’s eyes went wide. Then her face turned bright red.

Her fist connected with my stomach before I could react.

I doubled over, wheezing. Fuck, that hurt. Sloane’s Aspect gave her significantly more strength than her frame suggested, and she’d hit me hard enough to remind me of that fact.

"Don’t pat my head like I’m a pet!" she hissed, still red-faced.

"Noted." I straightened up slowly, wincing. "No head pats."

"And don’t stare at other girls’ asses right in front of me!"

"Also noted."

She glared at me for another long moment, then huffed and grabbed my arm. "I’m hungry. Let’s go eat."

Just like that, the storm passed. I let Sloane drag me toward the parking lot, her grip on my arm possessive and tight.

"So second highest in your field, huh?" I asked as we walked. "Who beat you?"

"Some girl with an ice Aspect." Sloane’s jaw tightened. "She scored fifty-one points."

"That’s close."

"It’s not close enough." Her grip on my arm tightened. "I should have been first. I had the points, but I spent too much time helping other applicants who were panicking when the zero-pointer dropped. I could have taken out another two three-pointers if I hadn’t stopped to pull that crying girl out of the rubble."

"You helped people instead of scoring more points?"

"Yeah, stupid, right?"

"No," I said. "That’s exactly what makes you a hero."