31. Jules
Jules
The Tokyo room feels smaller than it should.
Same hotel. Same layout. Same overpriced furniture designed to make everything feel temporary, clean, and neutral. It does not. It feels like we dragged something back from the arena with us, something that did not stay on the stage when the channel closed.
Camille and Blaire left ten minutes ago to finish the Tokyo containment reports and arrange our departure.
Before they did, they told us what happened in the Council meeting.
Camille gave us the careful version first: Cohen admitted the Mouthpieces were a known risk, the emotional amplification came from an active legacy framework, and Eon had records of similar conduit events buried behind sealed classifications.
Devin agreed to temporary restrictions because Camille made them sound like prudent risk management instead of the opening move in dismantling everything he works for.
Then Blaire told us what happened in the hallway.
She knows now.
Blaire knows we had another plan. She knows the interview opened something before we reached the stage and that Camille used the active bond to sever it. She knows whatever happened in Tokyo was larger than a conventional Mouthpiece attack.
She does not know everything. That conversation is waiting until we return to Los Angeles.
But she knows we lied to her.
That part went over beautifully.
Kaia closes the door behind them and checks the lock without saying anything. Not paranoid. Not exactly. Just careful.
Remy is already leaning against the wall with her arms crossed, watching the room like it might shift if she looks away. Mina sits curled into the corner of the couch, her hands tucked into the sleeves of her hoodie as though she is trying to make herself smaller.
I take the other end of the couch with one leg pulled up, ignoring the way my ribs protest.
It is fine. Everything is fine. Love that for me.
No one speaks for several seconds, which once again means I have to.
“So,” I say, clapping my hands together once, softer than usual. “Are we all thinking the same thing, or are we going to pretend we’re not about to drag Blaire into a supernatural conspiracy against her employer?”
Mina looks up. “She’s already in it.”
“Technically, she’s standing near it and looking furious.” I pause. “She also looked like she wanted to throw all four of us off the hotel roof when she found out we hid the plan from her, but I think that was coming from a place of love.”
“That isn’t funny,” Kaia says.
“Most true things are at least a little funny.”
Remy remains against the wall, arms crossed. “I trust Blaire. That is not the problem,” she continues. “The problem is that she still reports through Eon systems. Her devices are monitored. Her authority comes from the people we’re investigating. Trusting her does not make those risks disappear.”
“No,” Kaia agrees. “But it means we handle those risks with her instead of keeping her outside the plan.”
Mina pulls her hands farther into her sleeves. “She didn’t know what the system was doing, right?”
“Camille spent an entire meeting watching everyone’s facial expressions like they were evidence in a murder trial,” I say. “If she says Blaire was genuinely surprised, Blaire was genuinely surprised.”
Remy’s eyes move to me. “You’re not exactly objective where Camille is concerned.”
“True. She declared her love for me in front of a full arena. I’m currently accepting no criticism of her.”
Heat touches my face at the memory, which is deeply rude of my body considering how much else it has going on.
Kaia gives us several seconds before bringing the conversation back under control. “Blaire knew the official explanations around the previous groups didn’t make sense.”
“She knew they were hiding something,” Remy says.
“So did Camille,” I say.
The room goes still. Remy looks at me.
I keep going before I can decide not to. “Camille covered Valencia. She wrote the story they wanted and kept Glass Anthem’s disappearance from becoming a public disaster. That doesn’t mean she wanted them sacrificed. It means she was given one piece and told fixing it protected people.”
Remy’s jaw tightens. “I know.”
“Blaire got a different piece. She knew Eon buried failures and redirected questions. She didn’t know the contracts, performances, and wards were all part of the same system.”
“She stayed inside it,” Remy says.
“Because leaving meant the next group had no one inside Eon asking questions,” Mina replies. “That was us.”
Silence settles over the room.
Blaire did stay. She helped distribute explanations she knew were incomplete and worked inside a company she had stopped fully believing years ago.
So did Camille.
Surviving inside the system does not mean either of them built it.
“What matters is what Blaire did after she learned enough to make a choice,” Kaia says. “She backed Camille’s restrictions in front of the Council. She got us out safely. And she demanded to be included in every decision from now on.”
“She chose us,” I say.
No one argues.
Remy exhales and pushes away from the wall. “I trust her. I do not trust Eon’s access to her.”
“That sounds like a problem we solve with her,” Kaia says. “No company devices. No official reports. Nothing sensitive transmitted through Eon systems.”
“And she understands exactly what happens if the wrong person notices,” Remy adds.
“She already does,” Mina says softly. “That’s why she warned Camille.”
I look between them. “So we tell her everything.”
“Together,” Kaia says.
The decision settles over us. Blaire is in. Not because she works for Eon or because we have run out of alternatives. Because we trust her, and trusting her means letting her stand beside us instead of trying to protect her with another lie.
“Great,” I say. “One more person officially added to the supernatural conspiracy group chat.”
“There is no group chat,” Remy says.
“There will be. Which means we should probably establish the current trust rankings.” I sit a little straighter. “Camille is obviously at the top.”
Remy arches an eyebrow. “Obviously.”
“I trust her completely.”
I feel Camille through the bond, several floors away and focused hard enough to make the connection hum. She is still working with Kevin on the Tokyo fallout, probably reducing a supernatural disaster to a color-coded sequence of manageable problems.
She tore open the system to get me back. She stepped onto that stage while the Patron was looking through me. She let a Mouthpiece nearly use her as a second route rather than abandon the bond.
Then she told me she loved me.
There are easier ways to earn trust.
None more convincing.
“I trusted her with my life before she gave me much choice,” I continue. “Then she proved I was right. So yes. One hundred percent. Full access. No notes.”
Kaia nods. “I trust her too.”
“I trust her intentions,” Remy replies. “But she still makes decisions alone when she believes she has calculated the safest outcome.”
“Yeah,” I say. “She’s working on being a person.”
Remy’s mouth almost curves. “So are you.”
“Rude.”
The tension eases by half a degree.
Kaia takes the chair across from us. “Camille understands the system,” Kaia says. “Blaire understands Eon. We need both of them.”
“And someone outside,” Remy says.
The room settles again.
I look at her. “Outside Eon?”
“Outside all of it. Eon, the Council, the handlers. Every person we’ve gone to for answers so far has been connected to the structure we’re trying to understand.”
Kaia folds her hands. “What kind of person are we looking for?”
“Someone who understands old ward systems or resonance magic and owes Eon nothing,” Remy says. “A former Council researcher. An independent occult specialist. Someone connected to one of the previous groups, if any of them are still alive.”
The last words sit heavily in the room.
Velour Sky. Neon Saints. Glass Anthem.
Three groups reduced to official stories that never made sense.
“Camille has the archives,” I say. “Or enough of them to start.”
“She has the files Eon allowed her to find,” Remy corrects. “We need records they don’t control.”
“Families,” Mina says quietly.
We turn towards her.
She looks down at her clasped hands. “The families of the missing girls. Eon could change public records and social accounts, but not everything they remember… right?”
Kaia’s expression sharpens. “That is a place to start.”
“It could also bring Eon straight to them,” I say.
“We would need a secure way to approach anyone,” Remy says. “No company accounts. No Tower devices. Nothing connected to the tour.”
“Camille and Blaire can help us set that up,” Mina says.
Remy looks at her, then nods once. “Together.”
There it is.
Not blind trust. Not another secret kept because one person decides everyone else is safer without the truth.
Together.
Kaia studies each of us. “This goes beyond surviving its next attempt.”
Remy folds her arms. “Then we stop playing by Eon’s rules.”
I drag a hand through my hair. “Cool. So we’re going rogue?”
“No,” Kaia says.
Simple. Grounded. Final.
Damn, she’s no fun. I look at her.
“We do what we have always done,” she says. “We adapt.”
Something in the room shifts.
Not relief.
Direction.
“We assess the threat,” she continues. “We find someone outside the system who can help us understand what Eon built. We protect each other, Camille, and Blaire while we do it.”
“And when we know how to destroy it?” I ask.
Kaia holds my gaze. “We burn it clean.”
The words land like a spark.
I release a slow breath. “That’s aggressive.”
“It’s necessary.”
Remy’s mouth curves slightly. “I’m in.”
Of course she is.
Mina hesitates, but only for a second. “Okay. But we don’t lose ourselves doing it.”
Kaia’s expression softens. “We won’t.”
I look between them.
My girls. My family. The only part of this entire disaster I have never had to question.
Then I think of Camille, all sharp edges and impossible control, standing on that stage and choosing me loudly enough to overpower a system built to own us.
She is family too.
Apparently Spreadsheet Barbie made the cut.
“…Yeah,” I say. “Okay.”
Kaia stands and holds out her hand.
Remy places her hand over Kaia’s without hesitation. Mina follows more carefully, still thinking even as she commits.
I stare at them for half a second, then lean forward and add mine.
“For the record,” I say, “if we’re burning down a massive supernatural system, I would like it noted that this was not in my five-year plan.”
“You don’t have a five-year plan,” Remy says.
“Rude. I absolutely do.”
“What is it?”
“Vibes. Food. Dancing. Mostly vibes.”
Mina huffs out a small laugh. There it is. Better.
“We find help outside Eon,” Kaia says. “Camille and Blaire are included. No more plans hidden inside other plans.”
“Agreed,” Remy says.
Mina nods.
I feel the weight of their hands beneath mine. The contracts. The vanished groups. The Patron waiting behind every screen. All of it depends on us remaining frightened, divided, and grateful for whatever version of survival Eon permits.
No one pulls away.
“Burn it clean,” Remy says.
“Burn it clean,” Mina echoes.
I look at Kaia.
“Burn it clean.”
This time, we all mean it.
For the first time since this started, we are not reacting. We are not surviving. We are choosing.
War.