Harper
We walked back to the suite in silence.
Vane stayed half a step ahead the whole way, shoulders pulled so tight I could read the tension from behind. The corridor lights buzzed against the late-morning quiet.
Every pair we passed turned to look. Ninety-nine point nine and twenty-eight. The math was already running in everyone's head.
He pushed the door open. Crossed to the kitchen. Filled a glass of water with his back to me, the tap running too long, like he needed something to do with his hands.
I stood in the middle of the living room, picking at the edge of my E-class wristband without meaning to.
"So." I dragged the word out, going for casual. "About tomorrow."
He didn't turn around.
"Lyra's the obvious play. A-class. Her starting numbers will clear twenty-eight before t
