The dining room was a study in tension. The chandelier was too bright. The silverware clinked too loudly against the china.

Aunt Nora was trying. She was fluttering around, serving roast beef, smiling too much.

So, Dallas, Nora said, her voice high and brittle. How is the first week?

Fine, Dallas said. She focused on cutting her meat. Precision cuts. One inch by one inch.

Inger took a sip of red wine. Fine? I heard you got a zero on your placement exam. A zero, Dallas. Do you know how hard it is to get a zero? You have to actively try to be that stupid.

Erika was sitting across from Dallas. She was smiling into her water glass.

Maybe she just froze, Erika said sweetly. It happens to people who aren't... prepared.

Mason, Nora's son, was sitting next to Dallas. He was twelve, a quiet kid with glasses. He kicked Dallas gently under the table. A signal of solidarity.

I didn't freeze, Dallas said without looking up.

Then what? Inger snapped. You're just lazy? You're trying to embarrass me? The Bentleys paid for your tuition, Dallas. Do you have any idea what that cost?

I didn't ask you to, Dallas said.

Inger slammed her wine glass down. Wine sloshed over the rim, staining the white tablecloth red like blood.

Ungrateful, Inger hissed. You are exactly like your father. Useless. A waste of space.

The air left the room.

Nora gasped. Inger!

Dallas stopped cutting. Her knife screeched against the plate.

She looked up. Her eyes were dark, bottomless pits.

My father, Dallas said, her voice dangerously low, was a kind man.

He was a drunk! Inger shouted. And he died broke! Just like you will!

Erika chimed in. Mom, don't upset yourself. Dallas can always go to community college. They have... vocational programs.

Miley, Nora's daughter, giggled. Like plumbing?

Dallas looked at them. The perfect family. The perfect facade.

She felt a burning in her chest. It wasn't tears. It was fire.

She stood up. Her chair scraped back.

I'm not hungry, Dallas said.

Sit down! Inger commanded.

No, Dallas said.

She walked out of the dining room. She grabbed her backpack from the hall.

Nora ran after her. Dallas! Wait!

She caught Dallas on the porch. Nora's eyes were wet. She shoved a roll of cash into Dallas's hand.

Take this, Nora whispered. Please. Buy yourself something nice. Don't listen to her.

Dallas looked at the money. It was a few hundred dollars. Pity money.

I don't need it, Aunt Nora, Dallas said. She tried to give it back.

Take it! Nora insisted, shoving it into Dallas's pocket.

Dallas let her. She hugged her aunt briefly. A stiff, awkward embrace.

She walked down the driveway into the dark.

Once she was around the corner, she reached into the hidden lining of her backpack and pulled out a cheap, battered burner phone. She powered it on.

A single encrypted text message waited for her.

Notification: Escrow Release Authorized. Balance Update: +$50,000.00.

It was the payment for the Black Eagle defense. A bounty from the underground.

Dallas touched the crumpled bills in her pocket from her aunt. Then she looked at the number on her screen.

She laughed. It was a dry, humorless sound. She popped the battery out of the burner phone and shoved it back into the hidden lining.

The walk to the bus stop was cold. The wind cut through Dallas's hoodie.

Her mother's words echoed in her head. Useless. Waste of space.

She sat on the bench. She pulled out her phone. She opened the application for Capitol University. The Ivy League of the state.

She scrolled through the requirements. GPA: 4.0. SAT: 1500+.

She had a 0.0 GPA.

She closed the tab.

She opened another app. A secure terminal.

She typed a message to a user named Ghost.

Target: Inger Bentley. Asset verification.

She hesitated. She could ruin her mother. She could drain Inger's accounts, expose her affairs, destroy her social standing with a few keystrokes.

Her thumb hovered over Enter.

She took a breath.

No. That was Black Eagle's style. Not hers.

She deleted the command.

The bus arrived. She got on.

Back at the dorm, the room was dark. Whitney and Sloan were asleep.

Dallas lay on her bed. She stared at the ceiling.

She thought about Erika's violin playing. The lack of soul.

She thought about Inger's wine glass.

She thought about Fielding Pickett's eyes.

"Birthmarks don't usually have perfect topological precision."

He knew. Or he suspected.

She rolled over. She pulled the blanket up to her chin.

She needed to be careful. She needed to be invisible.

But inside, the fire was still burning.

The next morning, the administrative office was buzzing.

Lance Jagger was pacing back and forth. Finn Foster, a sophomore computer prodigy, was sitting at Lance's desk, pointing at the screen.

Look at the timestamp! Finn said, his voice cracking with excitement. The counter-virus was deployed 0.03 seconds after the breach. That's not human. That's AI. Or... god-tier.

Fielding stood in the doorway. He was drinking coffee, leaning against the frame.

Or, Fielding said lazily, it was a trap.

Finn looked up. Who sets a trap for Black Eagle?

Fielding didn't answer. He was thinking about a girl in a gray hoodie. A girl who knew about Port 443.

Find the IP, Fielding ordered.

I'm trying! Finn said. But it's bounced through seven proxies. Wait... the origin point... it's inside the school.

Lance gasped. A student?

Fielding smiled. It wasn't a nice smile.

Narrow it down, he said.

Meanwhile, in History class, Dallas was bored.

Mr. Harrison was droning on about the Industrial Revolution.

Dallas was drawing on her notebook. Not doodles. Schematics. She was mapping out the network architecture of the school, looking for the hole Black Eagle had used.

Boone Faulkner was sitting behind her. He leaned forward.

Is that a map of the subway system? he whispered.

Dallas slammed the notebook shut.

No, she said.

Boone chuckled. You're strange, Ruiz.

Is that a compliment?

From me? Yes.

The classroom door opened with a quiet click. A student aide, a nervous-looking freshman clutching a clipboard, stepped inside.

"Excuse me, Mr. Harrison?" the aide squeaked. "The Nurse's Office needs to see Dallas Ruiz. It's regarding her... vaccination records. Mr. Pickett said it was urgent."

The class went silent. Everyone looked at her.

Boone raised an eyebrow. "Vaccination records? That's a new one."

Dallas stood up. She felt a cold knot in her stomach.

Fielding. He wasn't broadcasting it. He was being surgical.

She walked out of the classroom. The hallway felt like a mile long.