“You forgot the second rule of Infinity,” I say thinly, and before he can answer, I send all of my strength into my left elbow and slam it into his side. His breath hitches and his arms release me, and I don’t let him regain his composure.

I throw a full-force punch into his stomach that sends him flying backward, causing vibrations to ripple through the air around us.

The buzz fills my ears. The pounding steadies in my chest.

I glare at Gil, stunned on the floor, and raise a brow. “Watch your left,” I say, and walk straight out of the room.

19

MY GOWN BLEEDS FROM SILVER to a deep sea-blue, the material cascading into a pool around my feet. One of my arms is exposed, wrapped in a silver chain that spirals up my skin like an enchanted snake, and the other is covered in shimmery silver fabric, the tiny beading scattered around the material in a flowerlike pattern.

Shura was right about the bond. This dress doesn’t just feel made for me—it feels like it’s a part of me. Every sway feels deliberate. It hugs my curves exactly where I want it to. I see myself in every inch of the material: my hope, and fear, and wonder, too.

I’m worried it’s presumptuous. I’ve never worn anything this fancy before.

I’m not sure I belong in something so beautiful.

But when I stare at myself in the mirror, I don’t find the ghost of my old self anywhere. I only see a Resident. A new identity. A new me.

I close my eyes and hope it’s enough.

I walk through the Colony, and the crowd parts like I’m someone important, which only rattles my nerves more. I’ve never been important in my life; I’m not used to this amount of attention.

I pass Yeong and Ahmet in the crowd, who send nods of approval my way before I meet Annika, Shura, and Theo at the South Tunnel entrance.

Shura beams. “You look beautiful.”

I make a face because compliments are embarrassing, and self-consciously reach for the dark braid that hangs over my bare shoulder. “I look ridiculous.”

She pulls out a silver ring from her pocket. In the center is a large square-cut gem that radiates a mesmerizing blue.

Pushing it onto my finger, she holds up my hand and smiles. “A gift.” She hesitates. “Ahmet did most of the heavy lifting, but I came up with the design myself.”

“Thanks,” I say, a little awkwardly. “I didn’t know we were supposed to bring presents.”

“It’s a transmitter,” Shura explains with pride, and I relax. “It’s coded just to you. If you press the stone in the center, it will send us a signal that you’re in trouble.”