The lights in the great hall were too bright. They made everything look sharper and meaner. I kept my head down as the students lined up, my heart pounding so hard I thought it might burst.
I could smell the nerves in the room—sweat, fear, that sharp metallic scent that always came before a shift.
Kade stood at the front, clipboard in hand, eyes cold and flat. “Full shift. Everyone. Now.” His voice was hard as stone.
I squeezed the little glass vial in my pocket. Mira had slipped it to me after the assembly, her fingers shaking. “Scent-masking. It’ll buy you time,” she whispered. “Don’t let them smell you.” Her face was pale, her eyes too wide. I’d nodded, but my stomach was already in knots.
The line moved fast. Boys I’d trained with for sometime now stripped off their shirts and shif
