Chapter 4
FOUR
EMMA
The next few weeks were a blur of sweat, bruises, and an overwhelming sense of please-let-this-be-worth-it at the Academy.
Every waking minute was spent either sparring with Nino—who had an impressive knack for kicking my ass with alarming enthusiasm—or trying to get my haze to appear in less time than it took to sneeze.
James came by my dorm during the first week, looking uncharacteristically apologetic. He owned up to his behavior after my first class, and blamed it on the stress of his position. I forgave him quickly—maybe too quickly—but not before squeezing in a guilt trip about second-placing me in his life.
I was joking (mostly), but some part of me had meant it, and he must’ve picked up on it. What started as an apology quickly turned into a makeup kissing session for the ages, and by the end of it, there was no room left for doubt—or breath.
After that, we slipped back into our happy couple phase— like Belle and her Beast after their awkward ballroom scene, who couldn’t decide whether to flirt or fight but did both with alarming efficiency.
Things were smooth again, even if I saw less of him than I wanted, but with the weight of the entire international community resting on his shoulders, I had no right to hold it against him.
Still, when I asked James to help shorten my interface time, he agreed—though with some reluctance, and with his guidance, I managed to cut my interface from 2.04 to 1.08 seconds in just three weeks.
I was now third in my class, competing against two other Superiors who were clocking in at 1.06 and 1.03. I was close—so close—but I knew I wouldn’t stop until I was the first one below the second.
Which is why for the third Saturday in a row, I found myself in the training room, trying to shorten my time.
Every millisecond shaved off was a step closer to the top.
I was obsessed with breaking the one-second barrier.
The rush of nearing my goal sent a thrill through me, but it was a constant, gnawing frustration too—I was so close, yet not quite there.
James was with me, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, doing his best impression of someone paying attention. He’d been with me every step of the way, sure, but unlike last year—when he had basically been my personal drill sergeant—he was softer now. Less pushy.
Actually, scratch that. He was distracted. He kept checking his Nexus like he was waiting for an apocalypse update, his jaw tight, his answers clipped, and his attention miles away.
It was weird. And not the ha-ha quirky kind of weird, but the something-is-definitely-going-on-and-I’m-the-last-to-know kind.
“James, is everything okay?” I asked, spinning around after finishing my latest try. 1.09 seconds—not enough.
He blinked, snapping out of whatever thoughts had pulled him away. “What?”
“You’ve been checking your Nexus like every two minutes. What’s going on?”
For a moment, he didn’t answer. His focus flicked from me to his device, a worry in his features I hadn’t seen in a long time. “It’s nothing,” he muttered, but even as he said it, I could tell it wasn’t true.
Before I could press further, his Nexus flared to life. He read the message quickly, and suddenly, his face was drained of color.
“James?” My voice wavered. Whatever it was, it wasn’t good.
Silence.
“What’s going on?” I asked, as my worry mounted at his sudden change.
“I got a message from the United Chiefs. The Radicals who attacked Cyclos…” His voice trailed off, and I noticed his hands starting to tremble.
“What about them?” I breathed, fear creeping into my bones.
“They attacked Crown. With the Amplifier.”
I gasped, the shock hitting me like a punch to the gut.
“And Stephen’s over there.” His features twisted with fear and urgency.
“Oh my gods, James!”
"I'm sorry—I gotta go," he blurted, already half-turning away.
"Go! Go!" I said, louder than I meant to, the spike of fear slicing right through me.
Frozen in place for a second, he stared at me—then he was moving, tearing the thumb ring from his hand.
He shoved it into my palm. "Take this," he said, breathless.
“What is it?” I stammered, before my stare dropped to the unfamiliar weight in my hand.
“It’s Stephen’s ring,” he said quickly, the words tumbling out like he couldn’t spare the time to explain. “It’s imbued with his translation. If for any reason, you need to get out of here fast, portal into any Collective you want. This will give you clearance.”
My jaw dropped. “What?”
“There’s no time to explain,” he snapped, already stepping back. “Keep it on you at all times. And whatever you do—don’t tell anyone. Ever.”
Before I could process the enormity of what he’d handed to me, he leaned in and kissed me—quick, desperate, and over before I could react. Then he was gone, the portal closing behind him.
What the—?
I looked down at the ring in my hand, the black and silver band glinting against my skin. I’d seen it on James so many times before, spinning idly on his thumb or clenched in his fist during tense moments.
So that’s how he’d been able to portal anywhere, anytime—no clearance, no restrictions.
Antwerp, Kanata C, Coastal…
Wherever he needed to go. Whenever he needed to disappear.
And now, he’d handed this power to me.
Standing in the classroom later on the same day, the whole hour was a blur. My mind was on James, on Crown, and the endless flood of worries consuming me. What was going on at Crown? Where was James right now? What was he doing? Who was with him? Had he found Stephen by now?
"Emma?"
"Huh?" I replied, barely registering Nino’s voice as I snapped out of my spiraling thoughts.
"You mind showing us your haze?" Nino asked, unusually patient. Her whole demeanor held a softness I wasn’t used to seeing, and she had sympathy etched in her features.
She knew. Of course, she knew. She was an Offensive, after all.
She probably knew precisely where James had gone, maybe even more than I did.
"Sure," I mumbled, hastily pushing off the wall, my heart racing.
Maurice was in the room auditing the class, but I was hardly aware of him. I could only focus on the gnawing worry about James.
Thoughts of him consumed me, weaving through every corner of my mind. I grasped onto the worry, letting it fuel me, every emotion raw and overwhelming.
It was as if I couldn’t escape him—couldn’t escape the fear which clawed at my chest. James, James, James—it was all I could think. The fear he might be hurt tightened its grip on me, suffocating every rational thought.
I squeezed my lids shut, and tried to push the dread back, but it only intensified.
My pulse quickened, each beat of my heart amplifying the worry, feeding the storm inside me.
The more I tried to control it, the more it slipped through my grasp, like water spilling through my fingers.
And then, another force stirred inside me—a dark energy, deeper and more powerful than I had ever sensed before.
Trying to grasp the energy flowing through me, my fingers trembled as I forced myself to concentrate.
But it hit differently. Wrong, even. My red haze began to swirl around me, seeping out of my skin like a living thing—darker, wilder than usual—an intense shade of scarlet that pulsed with its own sinister life.
It wasn’t mine to control.
My breath hitched as I tried to pull it back, to rein it in, but it resisted me, growing stronger with each passing second.
The sheer force of it surprised me, and a chill crept up my spine as the haze thickened, expanding like it had its own will.
It radiated off me in violent waves, rippling through the room, an energy I had never summoned before.
The more I fought to control it, the more it surged, as if it had been waiting to break free—and now it had, it refused to be tamed.
Panic gripped me as I realized I couldn't stop it. It was as if this power didn’t belong to me at all—like it was stronger, wilder, feeding off my fear and anger, amplifying every emotion I was experiencing. I wasn’t sure if I was controlling it—or if it was controlling me.
All I wished for was a sign from him—anything to tell me he was okay.
James, please…contact me.
I homed in, manifesting my Nexus in my hand. So fast, it might have been there all along.
“1.02 seconds,” Nino’s voice cut through my mind-fog, snapping me back to the present.
My eyelids flew open. The room had gone silent, my classmates standing frozen, their expressions a mix of awe and disbelief. I hadn’t broken the one-second mark, but I had beaten everyone else in the class.
I scanned the room, then caught the hardly concealed concern in Nino’s gaze and the detached, analytical look on Maurice’s face.
Had they noticed my lack of control?
My heart pounded harder, and a sharp pain lanced through my arm, right along the ugly scars. It was as if ice had been injected into my veins, its chill spreading through my muscles, locking them in place.
I tried to swallow the rising wave of fear, but then out of nowhere, the memories of Coastal and Logan Stark hit me like a sledgehammer.
“What we need from you is your secret.”
“Don’t play dumb, Miss Thompson. It doesn’t suit you.”
“We bled you almost entirely dry.”
As if those memories weren’t enough, I was suddenly staring into the cold eyes of Radicals, their hands gripping the Amplifier. The fear was suffocating, the knowledge unbearable; I was about to implode. One more second, and I’d be dead.
My breathing faltered, each inhale coming shorter and more frantic.
The raw panic was crushing my chest, making it impossible to stay.
I couldn’t remain in the classroom with those haunting images tearing at me.
I grabbed my gear and sprinted out of the room, ignoring the confused whispers of my classmates as I fled.