3

3

The next morning, there was an email from Julian in my inbox.

I moaned, dropping my phone on the bed. Maddie, who was already up (she was always up), turned away from the mirror as she finished securing her ponytail.

“What?” she asked.

I held out my phone to her. “Julian.”

“Again? He just emailed you two days ago.”

I moaned again, pulling the covers up over my face. She took my phone and was quiet for a moment as she read.

“Same shit,” she said. I pushed the sheets away from my face, and she dropped the phone on the bed beside me. “He misses you, he’s sorry, you’re the best girl in the world, blah blah blah.”

I sighed, picking up my phone and glancing briefly at the email before putting it in the Julian folder. A folder that was getting quite large.

He’d starting emailing me a few weeks after he left. The first time I saw his name in my inbox, I thought I’d find an angry, hateful message, but it had been an apology. A vague apology, one that didn’t include confessing to murdering several people, but still, an apology.

And then there had been another. And another. Some were long, rambling emails just telling me about his life; others were short and sad. He was clearly lonely. He’d built me up to be some kind of savior. The only girl who had ever understood him.

He kept emailing even though I never responded. He even tried contacting me through Instagram for a while, until I deleted my account. At least he didn’t have my new phone number. I could only imagine the number of texts I’d get from him.

I’d thought about sending a one-line response to his emails—Stop contacting me, asshole—but it seemed best to just ignore him. I’d seen what happened when Julian flew into a rage. People had died. I was hoping he’d just give up one day.

I hadn’t told anyone on the team except for Maddie. I was tired of talking about Julian, and everyone had still been so upset when the emails first started. I’d just wanted to stop talking about him. Maddie had agreed to keep it between us.

“I’m making the right choice by never responding, right?” I asked.

“I think so.” She grabbed her coat. “But you know who could really help with that?”

“Maddie, don’t.”

“A therapist. Super helpful with so many things.”

“You’re relentless,” I said. Maddie had gotten a few psychiatrists for the team after Grayson’s death and had pushed me to go. I went once, talked awkwardly about my dad, and didn’t feel compelled to do it again. Maddie had been pestering me to go again for months.

She smiled at me and pulled the door open. “I’ll see you down there.”

I climbed out of bed with a sigh. Julian sure knew how to ruin a morning. I’d considered changing my email address, but part of me was hoping he’d slip up one day and say something I could send to the police. At least the emails weren’t mean. Half the time, they were just sad.

I pulled on my workout clothes and met the team in the hostel lobby to walk to the gym. We had our routine down—we started every day at the gym, then went back to the hostel for a quick breakfast before heading out to whichever area of London Maddie had assigned to us that day.

Noah fell into step beside me, typing something on his phone. The scar that ran down one side of his face, from forehead to chin, had healed but left a permanent mark. He said he didn’t mind, that it made him look like a badass. It did, actually.

“Clara, I’m going to need current scrab data for London to refute a statement Julian made yesterday,” he said.

“Yeah, I saw it. I’ll send it to you this afternoon.”

Maddie, who’d been walking with Patrick ahead of us, looked at us over her shoulder. “Do I want to know what that asshole said this time?”

“No,” Noah and I said together.

“We’re just going to have to work harder,” Maddie said. “I want the scrab numbers so low that they can’t lie about them.”

I glanced back at Priya and Laila. We’d just been talking yesterday about how a lot of recruits needed a break. We needed a break. We hunted scrabs seven days a week. Most of the teams did, and I wasn’t sure if it was an effective strategy.

If I was being honest, I wasn’t sure that any of this was an effective strategy. Grayson had built these teams to help, to let people from all over the world join the scrab fight, but it was becoming clear that he’d never had a long-term plan. France had kicked us out of the country pretty quickly, and several other countries had declined our help. China had absorbed most of the recruits in Asia into their official scrab-fighting forces.

The teams had shrunk not just because of the mess with Julian, but because it became obvious that we were flailing. It wasn’t Maddie’s fault—she was just continuing what Grayson had planned—but she definitely got all the blame since he was gone. Which made me hesitant to even bring up any of this. She dealt with enough criticism. Everyone underestimated Maddie—many people seemed to think that an eighteen-year-old who was mostly famous for being a rich party girl wasn’t equipped to lead the teams. She pretended like it didn’t bother her, but I knew that it did.

“We can take a look at our strategies,” I said carefully. “But the scrab numbers are down here, no matter what Julian says.”

I didn’t want to tell her that I didn’t think that it would matter how successful we were here. We could eliminate scrabs entirely, and Julian would say that the numbers were up.

What we really needed to do was expose MDG and Julian and anyone else involved with scrab training. Once everyone knew the truth, it would be easier for us to recruit.

Maddie muttered something I couldn’t understand. Patrick hooked his arm through hers and asked about the movie she’d seen last week, obviously trying to pull her mind away from Julian.

It wouldn’t work. Maddie was determined to make Julian and MDG pay. She wasn’t going to rest until they were in prison.

We walked into the gym, and a few recruits scattered as soon as they spotted us. Probably because of Maddie. She yelled at a lot of people in the weeks after Grayson’s death, and had garnered a reputation for being scary and mean as a result. This didn’t seem to bother her at all.

Laila broke off from the group when she spotted Saira, the leader of UK team thirteen, nearby. She greeted her with a kiss.

Noah looked from them to us in surprise. “When did that happen? Did we even know she was gay?”

“She’s bi,” Dorsey said, which was news to me. Laila was almost as secretive as I was, though I got the impression that for her, it was more that she just liked to keep things to herself. She talked to her parents and her sisters all the time, and mentioned her friends in Chicago often.

“Huh,” Noah said. “Who knew?”

“Me,” Dorsey said with a laugh. “Also, I found two more bisexuals the other day. I’m going to start a club.”

“What do you mean, you found them?” Noah asked. “Were you out looking for them?”

“No, they were just drawn to me. Bisexuals, pansexuals, we can sense each other, you know. We send out a signal.”

Patrick snorted.

“I don’t think that’s true,” Noah said, squinting.

“No, it’s totally not true,” Dorsey said with a laugh.

We spread out to various parts of the gym, and I met Edan for sparring after a run on the treadmill. We changed up partners occasionally, but I was still the person he was most comfortable with. And I just liked having him around, always.

There was one benefit to Maddie’s relentless pace—I was in great shape. While six solid months of training and scrab fighting had become a little tiresome, I couldn’t deny that it had made me pretty badass. And my constant sparring with Edan had made me incredibly fast.

I thought about Dad sometimes, and how he’d take swings at me. He just used brute strength and took advantage of my fear. I had no intention of ever seeing him again, but if I did, it was nice to know that he wouldn’t be able to land a single blow.

I wasn’t going to see Dad or Mom ever again, apparently. I hadn’t intended to cut off all contact with Mom, but she hadn’t reached out to me once since the day of tryouts in Atlanta. Neither had Dad, though I wasn’t terribly upset about that.

But Mom? She could have at least checked on me once or twice. The address of our hostel in London was public and prominent on the St. John website. It was where all letters and packages for recruits were sent. And my email address was the same one I’d had since I was ten. I was easy to contact, as my many emails from Julian so clearly demonstrated.

But I hadn’t heard a word from her.

I stepped away from Edan, breathing heavily. We were in the boxing ring, surrounded by recruits working out. He wiped the back of his arm across his brow. I noticed some recruits nearby staring at us, clearly impressed.

“Done for the day?” I asked.

“Yes,” I heard someone groan from behind me. I turned to see Priya leaned dramatically over the ropes of the ring, arms hanging down toward the ground.

“Yeah, I think we’re done,” Edan said, looking at Priya in amusement.

Dorsey walked up beside Priya, using his shirt to wipe sweat from his face.

“Did you do that?” I asked him, pointing to her.

“I just suggested that we race around the building a few times,” he said.

“I hate running,” Priya moaned.

“I won,” Dorsey said. Priya punched him in the side.

Behind them, I spotted two of the new recruits sparring in the corner. I winced as one took a hit directly to the face and then promptly fell on his butt. This new group needed some work.

Patrick, who was at the punching bags with Maddie, pulled his earbuds out and said something to her. He frowned as he pointed at the new recruits. I edged closer to them as Maddie also pulled out her earbuds.

“Jayden was needed on assignment today,” she said. “They’re fine.”

Patrick made an exasperated noise. “They are not fine. They need good trainers, not whoever happens to be around today.”

Maddie shrugged. “Noah’s in charge of training, take it up with him.”

“Noah assigned Jayden to them!”

“Oh, right.” Maddie glanced around the gym. “Naomi!”

Naomi, one of the more experienced UK recruits, hopped off the rowing machine and walked over to them.

“Work with the new recruits today, will ya?” Maddie asked. “They need some help.”

“Yeah, all right,” Naomi said, a little wearily. I watched as she trudged over to the new recruits.

“Happy?” Maddie asked Patrick.

“You can’t keep pulling the trainers for assignments,” Patrick said. “At least talk to Noah about it first so he can send someone else.”

“It’s fine. We figure it out. See?” She gestured to where Naomi was working with the recruits. Patrick turned away, rolling his eyes.

“Guys!” I heard Noah call, his voice urgent. I turned to see him standing in front of the television mounted on the wall. He turned around, eyes wide. “Julian’s parents are dead.”

“What?” Priya said. Everyone rushed to the television.

The TV was tuned to a news channel, and someone increased the volume as I approached. Two familiar faces filled the screen. It was a picture of Richard and Faye Montgomery, Julian’s parents. They were dressed in fancy clothes—most likely a picture from some rich people event—smiling for the camera.

“. . . suffered extensive injuries. Again, if you’re just joining us, Richard Montgomery, founder and chairman of Montgomery Properties, and his wife, Faye Montgomery, died today in London following a scrab attack outside their hotel. Their son, Julian Montgomery, was reportedly not with them. We’ve been told that he’s safely in New York, where he’s been since leaving the St. John fight squads earlier this year.”

“Why were those assholes in London?” Maddie said quietly, almost to herself.

“Same thing they were doing in Brussels last month,” Noah said. “Picking up scrabs.”

“I’m surprised they came back here, though,” Maddie said. “I figured they were in Belgium because we’re not allowed to go there.”

“Wait, we’re not allowed into Belgium?” Dorsey asked.

“Not while you’re a part of the teams. They have antimercenary laws, which they are enforcing very strictly these days.”

“Do you think they would still be trying to ship scrabs out of the country?” Edan asked. “With the security these days? The police here have really cracked down.”

“They can’t possibly search every shipping container that comes into and out of the UK,” Maddie said. “And I wouldn’t put it past the Montgomerys to bribe the police into looking the other way. I’m almost certain they were doing it before.” A few recruits looked at each other, clearly alarmed. I winced. We probably shouldn’t have been having this conversation in front of them.

“Maybe this is way too optimistic, but do you think it’s possible that Julian will step back from MDG now?” Patrick asked.

Maddie frowned. “Why would he?”

“To grieve. And to . . . I don’t know. Go to college? He’s only twenty years old. I felt like he was just doing all the MDG stuff to make his parents happy.” He looked at me. “You said that he mostly seemed motivated to keep his dad happy.”

“He did,” I said. “Maybe . . . ?” I looked at Maddie, unsure.

“I really don’t know. He could, I guess. He’ll have a lot on his plate, since he was their only child.” She looked down at her phone, and then turned away, pressing it to her ear. “Hey, Mom.” She walked toward the exit.

I really wanted to believe Patrick’s optimism. Was it naïve to hope that Julian would find a tiny shred of humanity and just walk away from it all? He’d just inherited an enormous amount of wealth, and the Montgomerys were deeply invested in MDG. Maybe he’d decide to abandon his father’s stupid, dangerous ideas and pull his funding. Maybe MDG would go under without it.

Maybe.

---

That evening, after our assignment, I walked into the lounge to see Maddie sitting at the large round table in the center of the room, laptop in front of her. The room was empty except for three recruits talking quietly on the couch on the back wall.

“Got it,” Maddie said to the screen, and then typed something into her phone. She looked up and smiled at me. “Hey, Clara.”

“Hi, Clara!”came a voice from the laptop.

I walked around the table and smiled at the dark-haired girl on the screen. “Hey, Hannah.”

Hannah was a freelance writer and journalism student at NYU. She’d contacted me after my video went up, and became so engrossed in the mystery of the MDG Dust Storm facility that Maddie had ended up hiring her to do research.

Beside her was Victor, one of Grayson’s friends and the guy I’d talked to when I signed up for the squads. He ran various aspects of the operation from New York—uniform and weapons orders, meal planning, and general assistant work. He still did all that, but these days he mostly researched MDG with Hannah. We didn’t have much time to devote to MDG when we were out fighting scrabs and training new recruits every day.

“Clara!” Victor exclaimed, waving at me. Victor greeted everyone like he’d never been so excited to see them in his life.

“Hey, guys,” I said, sliding into the chair beside Maddie.

“Tell me about Arizona,” Maddie said to her.

“Right.” Hannah riffled through her notes. “Arizona . . . Arizona . . .”

“Is it that one?” Victor asked, pointing to a corner of the room off screen. “I’ll get it.” He pushed away from the table. Victor used a wheelchair, and he rolled behind Hannah, disappearing for a moment before reappearing with a notebook in his lap.

“Thanks,” Hannah said, pushing her hair back with a sigh. “I’m scattered today.”

Maddie pressed her lips together like she was trying not to smile. Hannah was always scattered. She was super smart—she’d graduated from high school a year early and was already a senior in college at the age of twenty. But she seemed like one of those smart people who couldn’t handle everyday life. Like she had so much information stuffed into her brain that she couldn’t remember things like eating meals or where she put her notebook.

“I thought I was on to something in Arizona, but it was a dead end,” she said. “Oh! Right. This is where they found a nest of dead scrabs. But they’d been dead a long time. Years. I’ll send you the pictures. It’s super gross, though.”

“OK,” Maddie said with a disappointed sigh.

“I’m trying to find some people to check out a tip in New Mexico,” Hannah said. “But it’s been a struggle to find someone trustworthy. The former recruits I had investigating in Arizona won’t go.”

“Offer to pay them double,” Maddie said.

“I did. They said they’re done. But!” she said, perking up. “I did get a tip from one of my Reddit bro friends.”

“Your Reddit bro friends?” I repeated.

“Yeah, the guys on the scrab conspiracy threads are very familiar with me. They think I’m a dude named Hank, but they love me.” She waved her hand. “Anyway, they haven’t announced it yet, but the Scrab Defense League is having a big get-together in early January. Their first annual conference. They’ve reserved a hotel for it.”

“Where?” Maddie asked.

“Dallas.”

I groaned. “Why Dallas?”

“Aren’t you from Dallas?” Hannah looked confused.

“Yep. I sure am.”

She squinted at me, obviously expecting more. “Huh. OK. Anyway, it’s apparently going to be a big thing. Facebook has exploded with various chapters of the league in the last couple months, and the Texas branches are especially active. I imagine that’s why they chose Dallas.”

“Any idea what they’re going to do?” Maddie asked.

“Sit around and talk about how much they like guns and trained scrabs?” Victor guessed.

“That is literally our best guess right now,” Hannah said. “But it’ll be announced publicly soon. The chapters are all aware and pumped up.”

“Great,” Maddie muttered, running her hands through her hair.

“Is there anything you need me to do with this news about the Montgomerys?” Hannah asked.

“Yeah, can you find out which hotel they were staying at and if they were using a car service? I might be able to bribe someone into telling me where they went while they were here.”

“You got it. Oh! Hold on.” Hannah jumped up, disappearing from the screen.

“Sorry, our Chinese food is here,” Victor said.

Edan walked in, changed from his uniform into jeans and a gray T-shirt, a sweatshirt slung over his shoulder. He strolled over to us and leaned down to see the screen. “Hey, Victor.”

“Edan! A pleasure to see you, as always.”

Hannah zoomed back into the frame, almost knocking into Victor as she sat down. “Hey, Edan,” she said breathlessly.

“Hey,” Edan said, and Hannah beamed. She so obviously had a crush on him. And maybe the feeling was mutual. Hannah was really cute, with her wide, dark eyes and pale skin and sleek hair cut into a bob. Plus, she was smart and quirky and only two years older than him. I wouldn’t have blamed him for returning the feelings.

He’d taken the job of compiling all of Hannah’s research and tips into a spreadsheet and then a report for Maddie, which required him to talk to Hannah at least once a week. It made me wonder if maybe he also liked her. Or enjoyed that she liked him, at the very least.

I tried not to obsess over it. It wasn’t like I was dating Edan. He was free to do what he wanted.

I’d thought about the possibility of dating Edan, of course. Back when we first became friends, Maddie had said she thought he liked me, and maybe he had. But then Grayson and several of our team members had died and everything was different. Dating hadn’t seemed like a priority.

Not to mention that I still wasn’t sure I could be trusted with romantic decisions. When left to my own devices, my dumb ass had gone straight for the first rage-filled overprotective jerk I could find. I’d been away from home two days when I started swooning over Julian. I wouldn’t date again until I was sure I could be trusted to make smart decisions.

Which would maybe be never.

Edan glanced back at me, tossing a piece of dark hair out of his eyes with a smile. I quickly looked away.

I was, maybe, just a tiny bit pleased that Hannah was thousands of miles away, though.

“OK, I’ll let you pass along the rest to Edan,” Maddie said, getting to her feet. I stood as well, and Edan took my chair, putting his laptop on the table.

I followed Maddie down the hall and to our room. She flopped down on her bed with a sigh, and I perched on the edge of mine.

“Is it too early to go to bed?” she asked. “I feel like I need to sleep for at least twenty-four hours.”

“You know that you could take the day off tomorrow, if you wanted. I’m sure we can manage without you.”

“No, I can’t. I want to set a good example.”

I didn’t think that running herself ragged was a good example. I slowly sat down on my bed, considering my next words carefully.

“Have you thought about what you want to do with the teams long term?” I asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Do you have any . . . changes in mind? This was Grayson’s initial vision for the teams, but maybe . . .” I didn’t want to say maybe he was wrong. It seemed ridiculous for me, noted idiot, to question Grayson’s plan. He’d been a genius. Literally. Whatever the official requirements were for being labeled a genius, Grayson had them.

But I also couldn’t help but wonder if he’d thought everything through. How long had he expected mercenary teams to last?

She was staring at me, waiting for me to finish.

“We’re just spread pretty thin right now,” I said. “I feel like we should be devoting more time to figuring out what’s going on with MDG and Julian and the Scrab Defense League. We’ll have an easier time recruiting for the teams once they’re gone. But we also have new recruits, and we’re out on assignments every day . . .”

“I mean, we can’t lighten up on assignments. MDG or no, there are still scrabs out there.”

“I know, but it just seems like the league is getting bigger every week. And I’m not even sure I trust the police or the FBI to do anything about it, because I think half of them are on their side. It’s frustrating.”

“It is. But we’ve got Hannah and Victor on it, and I’ve given up sleep for the next five or so years, so we’ll be fine.”

I raised a judgmental eyebrow. “You’re sleeping tonight, even if I have to drag you into bed.”

“We’ll see,” she said, waving a hand dismissively.

“Maybe we can look at pulling back on some of the assignments?” I asked cautiously.

“Clara, we’re fine. There’s only so much we can do from here anyway.”

“Yeah. I guess you’re right.” I wanted to push further, but Maddie never listened when I suggested slowing down. It was not her strong suit, and it certainly hadn’t been Grayson’s. Part of me was annoyed that she didn’t seem interested in my opinion, but the other part of me wasn’t sure my opinion was worth anything. Maybe Maddie was right, and pushing ahead was the best strategy. Changing things up would take time and money, and she was right that the scrab threat was still there.

“We’ll get someone to go to that conference in Dallas and report back,” she said. “And we’ll look for more people to help search for Dust Storm. Don’t worry. We’ve got this.”

I forced a smile. I genuinely hoped that she was right.