Hazel hadn’t pnned on becoming a spectacle that morning, but the moment the five of them stepped out of the house and into the light of day, it was inevitable.

  She walked in the center—composed as ever—her coat brushing lightly behind her with each step. To her left, Alex moved with the smooth confidence of someone who knew every pair of eyes belonged to her.

  Mariah, on Hazel’s right, walked like she was daring someone to make a comment, hands in her pockets and her crimson-gold eyes flicking over every passerby with bored curiosity.

  Celine kept slightly behind, her teal-tinted gaze wary but firm, her steps deliberate. And Lena, bringing up the rear in her oversized hoodie and scarf-wrapped neck, looked like a sleepy goddess pretending to be mortal for convenience’s sake.

  And at the heart of it all, Stel.

  Wide-eyed. Red-cheeked. Walking as fast as she could without breaking into a sprint, her backpack slung over one shoulder and her hands stuffed into her sleeves.

  Hazel heard the whispers before they’d even reached the sidewalk. Students crossing the street slowed. Some stopped entirely.

  A young man on a bike nearly crashed into a mailbox while turning to look at them. A pair of girls paused mid-conversation to stare openly, their voices dropping to low murmurs of disbelief.

  “Is that...?”

  “I think she’s one of them—look at their eyes—”

  “They look like models—no, like... something else.”

  Someone even took a picture, the soft click of a phone camera far too loud in the crisp morning air.

  Hazel didn’t flinch. None of them did.

  But Stel did.

  She shrunk slightly into her coat, muttering under her breath, “I swear, I’m going to melt into the sidewalk.”

  “You can’t,” Lena murmured behind her. “You’re our human mascot.”

  “Lena,” Hazel warned gently.

  “What?” she said innocently. “She’s too cute to sacrifice.”

  “You’re not helping,” Stel hissed.

  “You’re doing great,” Alex said breezily.

  They reached the science wing, where clusters of students already milled around the front entrance. Conversation paused. Eyes followed.

  Hazel leaned in close and pressed a hand gently to Stel’s back. “Go ahead. We’ll be back this afternoon.”

  Stel looked at her, then at the others, and finally exhaled. “You all better not be standing outside my css when I come out.”

  “No promises,” Mariah said with a grin.

  Hazel watched as Stel walked through the doors and disappeared into the building, her figure soon swallowed by the current of students.

  Then, without another word, Hazel turned and led the others back down the path they’d come from.

  The crowd parted for them like waves.

  ...

  By the time they reached the house again, Hazel had already taken off her coat and tied her hair back.

  The sun was climbing, painting the walls in gold and pale blue. She moved with quiet purpose into the living room, plucked her phone from the coffee table, and dialed.

  Verity answered on the second ring.

  “Hazel.”

  “We’re back,” Hazel said. “Lena’s awake.”

  There was a pause. Then Verity’s voice sharpened. “Lena?”

  “She’s stable. Coherent. Drinking. We brought her home.”

  “Is she... functional?”

  Hazel gnced at the others. Lena had already cimed the couch again, legs tucked under her.

  Mariah leaned against the kitchen counter, flipping through a grano bar box. Celine had disappeared into the hallway. Alex stood by the window, watching the street.

  “Yes,” Hazel said. “And she remembers everything.”

  Another pause.

  “Good,” Verity said. “We’ll need to meet soon. There’s more.”

  “We figured.”

  “I’ll call you with a time,” Verity said. “Be ready.”

  Hazel hung up and turned to the others.

  “She wants to meet soon. There’s more to this.”

  Alex raised an eyebrow. “Of course there is.”

  Mariah groaned. “I was hoping for a nap.”

  “You just woke up,” Lena pointed out.

  “I survived breakfast,” Mariah said, gesturing broadly. “That counts.”

  Hazel gave a faint smile as she slid her phone back into her pocket. The air in the house was calm again—but beneath it, something had shifted.

  Something deeper was coming.

  The quiet returned slowly, like fog settling after a storm.

  Stel was gone, her presence lingering only in the light echoes of ughter still clinging to the kitchen. Breakfast dishes had been washed and set aside, and now the house felt momentarily still—resting.

  Hazel stood by the open window, letting the breeze py with a strand of her hair as she gazed at the street. Alex leaned beside the same window, her arms crossed loosely, one ankle hooked over the other as she tilted her head toward Hazel.

  “She’ll be okay,” Alex said.

  “I know,” Hazel replied.

  Behind them, Lena was lounging on the couch, one leg hooked over the armrest, flipping slowly through a magazine she’d found on the coffee table. She hadn’t said much since Stel left, but her body nguage had eased. She was healing, inside and out.

  Celine sat cross-legged on the rug, sipping a fresh cup of tea in silence. Her presence, as always, was still and centered.

  Mariah had taken to the armchair, boot resting on the coffee table, arms slung behind her head, golden-crimson eyes watching the ceiling as if it might offer answers.

  No one spoke for a while. There was nothing more that needed to be said.

  Then, three deliberate knocks at the front door.

  Hazel turned without pause. “She’s here.”

  She moved to the entryway and opened the door with a quiet elegance.

  Verity stood there, crisp and polished in a deep navy coat and charcoal-gray scks, her shoulder-length hair tucked back in a tight roll. Her eyes, as always, were piercing—but today they seemed more weary than usual. She carried a slim satchel tucked under one arm.

  Hazel opened the door wider. “Come in.”

  Verity stepped over the threshold slowly, her heels clicking against the hardwood. Her eyes took in the space first—then the people.

  She stopped two steps into the living room.

  Lena. Mariah. Celine. Alex.

  All seated. All poised.

  All unmistakably infected.

  Verity’s lips parted slightly, but she did not speak.

  Lena looked up from her magazine. “You’re the doctor?”

  Verity didn’t respond right away. Her gaze shifted toward Hazel.

  “You didn’t tell me they were all here.”

  Hazel offered a calm smile. “I didn’t think you’d mind.”

  Verity set her satchel down by the coffee table. “I don’t mind. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t... surprised.”

  Alex gestured toward the empty seat beside her. “You can sit. We don’t bite.”

  Mariah snorted. “Not right away.”

  Verity didn’t sit—not yet. Her attention nded on Lena again.

  “You’re awake.”

  Lena gave a zy salute. “Unfortunately for some people.”

  Verity blinked once. “Your vitals?”

  “Slow. Steady. Sipping blood by the bag, like some kind of dystopian juice cleanse.”

  Hazel’s voice slipped gently into the space. “She’s functional. Healing.”

  “I assumed as much,” Verity said. “But I need to hear what happened. All of it.”

  Hazel moved across the room and perched on the edge of the loveseat. “We went to the morgue. Together.”

  “Why?” Verity asked sharply.

  “Because it felt wrong,” Celine said softly from the rug. “The way she was listed. The circumstances. Everything.”

  Mariah nodded. “We just knew. Something was off.”

  “Hazel got the location,” Lena added. “And I’m gd she did.”

  Verity crossed her arms. “You got the location from me. It was in the file I left.”

  Hazel didn’t deny it.

  Verity’s gaze shifted. “And you found someone there?”

  “Guarding the morgue,” Hazel said. “He was sent to intercept anyone who might come looking.”

  Alex added, “We persuaded him to help. Or at least, not get in our way.”

  Verity looked between them. “Persuaded.”

  Mariah shrugged. “He walked away alive. That’s generous, I think.”

  Verity narrowed her eyes. “You left him with the memory intact?”

  “Enough of it,” Hazel said. “He’ll remember feeding Lena. Regretting the others’ choices. He’ll have guilt. That makes him useful.”

  There was a long silence.

  Then Verity said, “That was... calcuted.”

  Hazel met her gaze without blinking. “So is everything.”

  Verity turned slowly, taking in the five of them again. Lena’s casual poise. Mariah’s flippant coolness. Alex’s smooth reserve. Celine’s soft-spoken focus.

  Each different.

  Each dangerous.

  “I don’t believe you all trust me enough to tell me the truth,” Verity said at st.

  Hazel raised an eyebrow. “You think we’re lying?”

  “I think,” Verity said, voice low, “that you’re choosing your words very carefully. That you’re walking a very specific line.”

  She stepped closer to the center of the room. “Even you,” she added, her eyes flicking to Celine. “You seem like the simplest one here. But you’re not.”

  Celine didn’t speak.

  “Everything about this is precise,” Verity continued. “Your choice of words. Your demeanor. Your silence. Even Lena is performing nonchance.”

  Lena grinned but didn’t deny it.

  “So tell me something,” Verity said. “Why are you telling me any of this? Why not hide it? Let me figure it out weeks from now, when it’s all too te to matter?”

  Hazel stood.

  She crossed the room slowly, her steps light but full of intent, and stopped in front of Verity.

  Then she held out her hand.

  Open. Steady. Elegant.

  “Because we trust you,” Hazel said.

  Verity didn’t move.

  Hazel’s voice softened. “Because you’ve treated us with respect. Because you’ve spoken to us like people. Because you want understanding, not control.”

  Alex’s voice floated in from behind. “And because lying is inefficient.”

  Verity looked down at Hazel’s hand. Then up into her eyes.

  Hazel’s gaze was warm. Welcoming. And yet somehow no less commanding than it had been a moment ago.

  “You’re not human anymore,” Verity said softly.

  Hazel smiled. “No.”

  “But you still chose to act like one.”

  Hazel’s voice didn’t waver. “Only when it matters.”

  Verity finally reached out and took her hand.

  It was cold. Impossibly still.

  But alive.

  “Then let’s talk about what happens next,” Verity said.

  Hazel nodded. “We’re ready.”

  And this time, when Verity sat down, it was as one of them.