Zoey was furious. Not at Elena Vasquez or her two elemental lackeys. Not at the dozens of magjistars who'd thrown themselves at her like lemmings off a cliff. Not even at Tiffany, who was currently humming a cheerful tune as they navigated through Dhara's back alleys with an unconscious Chief Peacekeeper slung over Zoey's shoulder. No, Zoey was furious at herself.
'We ran away,' Inner Zoey seethed. 'We were winning and we ran away.'
'We had to. The mask…'
'Fuck the mask! Fuck the mission! We had a good fight right there in front of us and we just... left!'
Zoey's jaw clenched beneath her panda mask as she vaulted over a fence, Amelia's limp body jostling with the movement. The frustration was a physical thing, crawling beneath her skin like fire ants. She'd been so close. Elena's silver constructs had actually pushed her, actually made her work for every opening. And Yimeh and Layla working together had created combinations she'd never seen before, fire and sand weaving into glass storms and molten traps. It had been beautiful. It had been exactly what she'd been craving ever since she arrived in this city. And she'd had to walk away from it because of a stupid face mask on her head.
'The moment we got serious, the mask would've come off,' Outer Zoey reminded herself.
'So what?! Let them know! Let the whole world know!'
'And then what? Our normal life is over. Our family gets dragged into this. Everything we've built-'
'Was built on violence anyway! We're a fighter, not a... a...'
Inner Zoey couldn't even finish the thought. They both knew what they were. What they'd always been. The Box had just given them permission to stop pretending otherwise.
"Panda? Are you okay?" Tiffany's voice cut through her internal argument. Zoey glanced over to find the purple-haired girl watching her with concern visible even through her polar bear mask.
"Fine," Zoey grunted.
"You don't seem fine. You seem..." Tiffany tilted her head, searching for the right word. "Grumpy."
"I'm not grumpy."
"You're definitely grumpy. You've been stomping instead of walking for the last three blocks. And you keep making this little growling sound under your breath. It's actually kind of cute, but also concerning?"
Zoey hadn't realized she'd been growling. She forced herself to take a breath, to unclench her fists, to smooth out her gait into something less aggressive.
"I'm fine," she repeated.
Tiffany clearly didn't believe her, but she let it drop. "If you say so! Oh, we should be almost there. I recognize that weird statue."
She was right. The MLF's mansion loomed ahead, its elegant architecture a stark contrast to the cramped alleyways they'd been navigating. Zoey adjusted Amelia's weight on her shoulder and approached the front gate.
…
The celebration started almost immediately. Word had apparently spread ahead of them, probably Adrian or one of the others monitoring their progress, because by the time Zoey and Tiffany walked through the mansion's front doors, half the MLF was already gathered in the main hall. Cheers erupted at the sight of them, and the sight of the unconscious Chief Peacekeeper draped over Zoey's shoulder like a hunting trophy.
"They actually did it!"
"Holy shit, that's really her!"
"Panda! Polar! You absolute legends!"
Gork's massive form pushed through the crowd, his bovine face split in a wide grin. "Little fighters bring back big prize! Gork is impressed!" He clapped Zoey on the back hard enough to stagger a normal person. Zoey barely felt it.
Millie slithered up beside him, her snake-like lower body coiling beneath her as she examined Amelia's unconscious form. "The Chief Peacekeeper herself. Do you have any idea how long some of us have wanted to see this woman brought low?" Her serpentia, the mass of snakes that served as her hair, hissed in agreement.
"She was investigating the auctions," Zoey said flatly. "She's not the enemy you think she is."
Millie's eyes narrowed. "She's a Peacekeeper. That makes her enemy enough."
Zoey didn't have the energy to argue. She pushed past the Viperian woman and headed deeper into the mansion, ignoring the congratulations and back-slaps from MLF members she barely recognized. Tiffany followed in her wake, cheerfully accepting the praise Zoey was deflecting.
"Thank you! Thank you! It was really all Panda though, I just handled the bodyguards. You should've seen her fight! She took on like fifty magjistars at once! It was so romantic!"
"Tiffany," Zoey warned.
"What? It was!"
They reached the sitting room where Roy typically held court. The door was open, and Zoey could see the MLF's leader inside, seated in his usual high-backed chair with a glass of wine in hand. Selena stood beside him, her electric-blue eyes fixed on Zoey with barely concealed hostility. Adrian lounged on a nearby couch, looking amused. Lector was absent, probably still out on whatever mission Roy had assigned him.
Roy's stormy gray eyes tracked Zoey as she entered. His expression was calm, pleasant, utterly unreadable. The thin scar on his cheek caught the lamplight as he smiled.
"Panda. Tiffany." His voice was warm, welcoming. "I hear congratulations are in order."
Zoey dumped Amelia's body onto an empty couch with perhaps more force than necessary. "Mission complete. She's alive, like you wanted."
"Indeed she is." Roy set down his wine glass and rose from his chair, approaching the unconscious woman with measured steps. He was tall, 6'5" at least, and moved with the easy grace of someone who'd never had to rush in his life. "Chief Peacekeeper Amelia Patil. A woman of principle, from what I understand. It's almost a shame she chose to serve such a corrupt institution."
"She was investigating the slave auctions," Zoey said again. "She's not like the others."
Roy glanced at her, one eyebrow raised. "You've developed sympathy for our captive?"
"I've developed an accurate assessment of her character. There's a difference."
"Hmm." Roy returned his attention to Amelia, studying her face like a collector examining a new acquisition. "Regardless of her personal virtues, she represents Dhara's Peacekeeping Order. Her capture sends a message that cannot be misinterpreted." He looked up, addressing the room. "Tonight, we showed the OM that we are not to be trifled with. That their authority means nothing in the face of our conviction. This is a victory worth celebrating." More cheers from the MLF members who'd crowded into the doorway. Selena's lips curled into a satisfied smile. Adrian raised an invisible glass in a mock toast.
Zoey felt nothing.
'This is what we came here for,' she reminded herself. 'Infiltrate. Gather intelligence. Wait for the right moment.'
But the frustration from earlier hadn't faded. If anything, it had calcified into something harder, heavier. A weight in her chest that made it difficult to breathe.
"Panda." She looked up. Roy was watching her again, those gray eyes sharp despite his relaxed posture.
"You seem troubled," he observed. "Is something wrong?"
"No."
"You're certain? You accomplished something remarkable today. Single-handedly holding off Dhara's forces while Tiffany secured our objective... that's no small feat."
"I didn't hold them off," Zoey said before she could stop herself. "I left."
A flicker of something crossed Roy's face. Interest, maybe. Or recognition. "You left because the situation required it. That's tactical wisdom, not failure."
"Sure."
Roy studied her for a long moment, then smiled. "You're tired. It's been a long day. Why don't you rest? We can discuss the details of your report tomorrow." It was a dismissal, politely phrased but unmistakable. Zoey nodded and turned to leave.
"Oh, and Panda?"
She paused at the door.
"I'd like to speak with you privately later this evening. There are some matters I'd like to discuss. Come to my study after midnight."
Zoey's instincts prickled. Something in Roy's tone, a subtle shift that probably no one else in the room had noticed. But she'd spent enough time around dangerous people to recognize when the ground beneath her feet was less stable than it appeared.
"Fine," she said. She left the room without looking back.
…
Zoey's quarters in the MLF mansion were nicer than any bedroom she'd ever had. High ceilings, a bed large enough to fit four people, furniture that probably cost more than her family's entire house. She hated it. She'd barely closed the door before Tiffany materialized behind her, somehow having followed without making a sound.
"So," Tiffany said brightly, "are we going to talk about why you're upset, or are we going to pretend everything's fine until you explode?"
"I'm not upset."
"You literally growled at Gork when he tried to hug you."
"Gork's hugs are a health hazard."
"Panda." Tiffany's voice softened, losing some of its manic cheerfulness. "I watched you fight today. I've seen you fight before, at the auction, at the headquarters. This was different."
Zoey stiffened.
"You were holding back," Tiffany continued. "Not just your strength. Your whole style was... wrong. Like you were fighting with your off-hand or something. And when that silver-hair lady pushed you, you didn't push back. You ran." She paused. "That's not like you."
For a long moment, Zoey didn't respond. Then, slowly, she ran her fingers through her hair, feeling the tension in her scalp.
"I couldn't go all out," she admitted. "That pissed me off."
"Really?"
Zoey looked at Tiffany. The purple-haired girl had removed her own mask, revealing that earnest, slightly unhinged face that somehow found mass murder and romance equally exciting.
"Yes, really," Zoey said simply. "It pisses me off that I couldn't fight as much as I wanted."
Tiffany's brow furrowed. "I don't understand. If you just forgot about your mask, you wouldn't have had a problem with those guys."
"There's a whole other life outside of this. People who know me as someone else. Someone who can't be connected to what happened today."
Understanding dawned in Tiffany's eyes. "Oh. Oh! You have a secret identity! Like a superhero!"
"Something like that." She actually did have a superhero alter ego.
"That's so cool!" Tiffany bounced on her heels, previous concern forgotten. "So there's a whole other version of you out there? Living a normal life? Does she have friends? A job? A girlfriend?"
"No girlfriend," Zoey said flatly.
"Perfect! That means there's an opening!"
"Tiffany."
"I'm just saying! If regular-you is single, then maybe regular-me could-"
"I don't think there is a regular you."
"Aw, you noticed!" Tiffany beamed like Zoey had paid her the highest compliment.
Despite herself, Zoey felt some of the tension in her shoulders ease. Tiffany was... a lot. But she was also weirdly easy to be around. There was no pretense with her, no hidden agendas. She wanted what she wanted and made no secret of it. It was almost refreshing compared to the constant chess game of dealing with Roy and the others.
"You should get some sleep," Zoey said. "It's been a long day."
"What about you?"
"Roy wants to talk to me later. I'll rest until then."
Tiffany's expression shifted, something sharper flickering behind her eyes. "Roy wants to talk? About what?"
"He didn't say."
"Hmm." Tiffany chewed her lip. "I don't like that. He's been watching you a lot lately. More than usual."
"Roy watches everyone."
"Not like he watches you." Tiffany moved closer, her voice dropping. "Be careful, okay? Roy's nice and all, but he's also... Roy. He doesn't do anything without a reason."
"I know."
Tiffany held her gaze for a moment, then nodded. She retrieved her polar bear mask from wherever she'd stashed it and headed for the door.
"Tiffany," Zoey called.
The girl paused, looking back.
"If you sneak into my bed while I'm sleeping, I'll break your arms."
Tiffany's face split into a delighted grin. "No promises~" She slipped out the door before Zoey could respond.
…
Roy's study was on the top floor of the mansion, accessible only through a narrow staircase that creaked with every step. Zoey climbed it at exactly midnight, her mask back in place, her senses on high alert. The door at the top was already open. Warm light spilled out into the hallway, along with the faint smell of old books and expensive tobacco.
"Come in, Panda," Roy's voice called. "And please, close the door behind you."
Zoey stepped inside. The study was smaller than she'd expected, cozy, almost. Bookshelves lined every wall, stuffed with volumes in languages Zoey couldn't identify. A massive oak desk dominated the center of the room, covered in papers and maps and what looked like intelligence reports. Roy sat behind it, his onyx suit jacket discarded over a nearby chair, his crimson-lined cloak hung on a coat rack. He looked almost casual like this, his midnight-black hair loose around his shoulders instead of carefully styled.
He gestured to a chair across from him. "Please, sit." Zoey remained standing. "You said you wanted to talk."
"I did." Roy leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. "I'll admit, when you first arrived at our doorstep, I had my suspicions. A powerful magjistar, appearing out of nowhere, eager to join our cause? It seemed too convenient."
Zoey's body went still. Not tense, she was too experienced for that. But ready.
"So I did what any reasonable leader would do," Roy continued. "I investigated. Quietly, of course. I didn't want to alarm you or my colleagues with unfounded concerns." He smiled. "It took some time. You covered your tracks well. But not well enough, I'm afraid." He reached into his desk drawer and withdrew a folder. From it, he pulled a photograph, a printout from what looked like a news article, and slid it across the desk toward her.
Zoey looked down. It was her. Not Panda. Her. Zoey Winters, standing in a boxing ring with her fist raised in victory, sweat glistening on her dark skin. The headline above the image read: "THE DEVIL CLAIMS ANOTHER VICTIM: WINTERS DOMINATES YFTL CHAMPIONSHIP."
"Zoey Winters," Roy said, savoring each syllable. "The Devil of the YFTL. Victor Kahn's mysterious apprentice. The gully who somehow learned to use magji, an impossibility, according to everything we know about magji theory." He pulled out another photograph. "Also known as Boundless, a costumed vigilante operating out of-"
"Where did you get these?" Zoey's voice came out flat. Controlled. But her heart was hammering against her ribs.
"I have resources. Contacts in various OM branches who owe me favors. It wasn't difficult to put the pieces together once I knew what to look for." Roy set down the photographs and fixed her with those stormy gray eyes. "The fighting style was the first clue. You were clearly restraining yourself during the auction raid, but there were moments, small tells, that suggested a background in striking arts. Boxing, specifically. Then there was your strength, your speed, your ability to shrug off attacks that would cripple normal magjistars. All consistent with someone who had been... enhanced, somehow."
Zoey said nothing.
"But the real confirmation came from Dhara's OM records. They've been tracking a group of protestors led by two C-Grade magjistars named Peter and Jelena. Those protestors have been remarkably well-informed about Peacekeeper movements, auction locations, political vulnerabilities. Almost as if someone was feeding them intelligence from inside our organization." Roy tilted his head. "Imagine my surprise when I discovered that Peter and Jelena have a mutual acquaintance. A powerful magjistar who was exiled from the OM entirely after nearly killing the Head of Magji himself. A magjistar whose teacher, the legendary Victor Kahn, once erased an entire generation of OM leadership for daring to threaten her." The silence stretched between them like a wire about to snap.
Zoey's mind raced through options. She could kill him right now. His air manipulation was dangerous, but in these close quarters, with no warning, she was confident she could reach him before he could mount a proper defense. One punch to the skull and the MLF would be leaderless. But that would mean fighting her way out of a mansion full of hostile magjistars. It would mean abandoning the mission, abandoning Prometheus's plan, abandoning any hope of a clean resolution.
Roy seemed to read her thoughts. "Before you do something we'll both regret," he said calmly, "I should mention that I have no intention of exposing you. Nor do I intend to fight you."
Zoey's stance shifted, confusion bleeding into her rigid posture. "What?"
"A conflict between us would be... messy." Roy spread his hands. "I'm confident in my abilities, but I'm not arrogant enough to believe I could defeat you easily. You fought three of Dhara's finest magjistars simultaneously and chose to leave. That tells me everything I need to know about the gap between us."
"Then why are you telling me this?"
"Because I believe we can help each other, Miss Winters. You're here for a reason. Someone sent you to infiltrate my organization, I assume your friends, Peter and Jelena's little rebellion. Whatever their plan is, I doubt it ends with the MLF intact."
Zoey forced herself to take a breath. Then another. Her hands were shaking slightly, not from fear, but from the adrenaline of having her cover blown so completely.
"So what do you want?" she asked.
Roy smiled, a genuine smile, not the polished mask he wore for his followers.
"I want to understand you, Miss Winters. You're an anomaly. A gully who wields magji like a born magjistar. A fighter who could probably tear this entire mansion apart with her bare hands. A woman who clearly cares about the oppressed, I've seen how you look at Illie, at the freed slaves from the auction, but who was sent here to destroy the one organization actually fighting for their freedom." He leaned forward, his gray eyes intent. "So tell me. What are you really after? And is there any world in which we don't have to be enemies?"
Zoey stared at him for a long moment.
'He's trying to manipulate us,' Inner Zoey warned. 'This is what he does. Pretty words and reasonable arguments until suddenly you're doing exactly what he wants.'
'I know,' Outer Zoey replied. 'But he's also not wrong. About any of it.' She thought about the auction. The slaves in cages, the magji creatures being sold like livestock. She thought about Illie, that little Viperian girl with scales too valuable to be left on her body. She thought about the Peacekeepers who had ignored it all, the OM leadership that had turned a blind eye.
The MLF had done something about it. Violently, brutally, without hesitation, but they had done something. And here she was, sent to take them down.
"The people who sent me," Zoey said slowly, "have their reasons. But you're right, I do care about the oppressed. I've seen what the OM does to people who don't fit their idea of acceptable. I've been on the receiving end of it."
Roy nodded, encouraging her to continue.
"But I also know what you really want, Roy. It's not just freedom for magjistars. It's not just equality for magji creatures." Zoey's voice hardened. "You want to put humans under your heel. The 'lesser race,' right? That's what you called them."
For the first time, something flickered across Roy's face. Surprise, maybe. Or reassessment.
"You've done your research as well," he murmured.
"I listen. And I remember." Zoey stepped closer to the desk, close enough that Roy would have to crane his neck to meet her eyes. "I could've supported you. Fighting the OM, exposing corruption, freeing slaves, all of that, I'm on board with. But enslaving humans?" She shook her head. "That's where I draw the line. Hard."
"And if I told you that was never truly my intention? That the rhetoric about human subjugation was simply a means of-"
"Don't." Zoey cut him off. "Don't insult me with lies. I'm not smart enough to catch all of them, but I'm smart enough to know when someone's trying to play me."
Roy fell silent. The air between them felt heavy, charged with potential violence that neither of them had committed to yet. Then, slowly, Roy laughed. It wasn't mocking or cruel. It was genuine, the surprised laugh of someone who'd been outmaneuvered in a way they hadn't expected.
"You're remarkable," he said. "Truly. I've spent years building an organization, cultivating followers, crafting a vision for the future. And you walk in, see through all of it in a matter of weeks, and tell me to my face that you came here to destroy me." He shook his head, still smiling. "I should be furious. Instead, I find myself... impressed."
"Great. I'm flattered. Now what?"
Roy's smile faded into something more serious. "Now, we negotiate. Because as much as you might want to take me down, Miss Winters, I don't think you actually want to fight your way through everyone in this mansion. And as much as I might want to remove the threat you represent, I don't think I can afford the cost of trying." He stood, moving around the desk until he was standing directly in front of her. This close, Zoey could feel the potential of his mahna, the air itself seemed to whisper with barely contained violence.
"So let's find a middle ground," Roy said. "Tell me what you need from me to walk away. And I'll tell you what I need from you to let you."
Zoey met his gaze, her mind already working through possibilities.
'This is it,' she thought. 'This is where we make a deal or we start a war.'
"I need you to make a Heart Oath," she said.
Roy's eyebrows rose. "That's... a significant request."
"You want me to walk away? You want this organization to survive? Then swear, swear on your magji, on your life, that you won't enslave humans. Won't harm them in your pursuit of magjistar freedom. Won't use them as the 'lesser race' you've been promising your followers."
The silence that followed was deafening. Roy's expression had gone carefully blank, all warmth and charm stripped away to reveal the calculating mind beneath. He was weighing costs and benefits, running through scenarios, searching for angles.
"Heart Oaths are not to be taken lightly," he said finally. "The wording must be precise. The terms must be-"
"I know. And I know I'm not smart enough to out-word you." Zoey pulled out her phone. "But I know someone who is."
Roy stared at the phone in her hand. "You're going to call your handler. Right now. In front of me."
"Unless you'd rather I just start punching."
Another long pause. Then, impossibly, Roy laughed again.
"Make your call, Miss Winters. Let's see if we can't find terms we can both live with."
Zoey dialed. The phone rang twice before a familiar voice answered.
"Zoey." Prometheus's smooth tone carried a note of genuine surprise. "This is unexpected. I assume something has changed?"
"Roy knows who I am. We're negotiating."
"Ah." A pause. "That is... sooner than my projections anticipated. But not unworkable. Put me on speaker."
Zoey tapped the button and set the phone on Roy's desk between them. The two leaders, one of an organization, one of a conspiracy, stared at each other across the small device.
"Mr. Roy," Prometheus said. "A pleasure to finally speak with you directly. I believe we have much to discuss."
Roy's smile returned, though it didn't reach his eyes.
"Indeed we do, daemon. Indeed we do."