“Out of curiosity,” Vengerov spoke, “what do you intend to call yourself when you’re a Combatant?”

When. Not “if.” Tom knew what this was: Vengerov assuring him he’d receive his payoff for a job well done . . . just in case Vengerov wanted to make use of him again in the future. It made Tom’s stomach boil, but he kept his face carefully neutral and answered, “I don’t know yet. I change my mind all the time.”

“Ah. Then what is it today?”

Tom gazed at the oligarch at the center of the security state, perhaps the most powerful man in the world, sitting at the table with that secret processor in his skull, wineglass in hand.

Then Tom smiled.

“Cyanide.”

TOM, VIK, AND Wyatt agreed not to tell Yuri about their escapade in Obsidian Corp. If Yuri saw Joseph Vengerov, it would be easier for him not having to lie about anything. Vik insisted that ignorance could be bliss.

The day Yuri was able to walk unaided, Tom, Vik, and Wyatt made sure to steer him to the Lafayette Room. When promotions were announced, they all watched his face as the final plebe name was called out: “Yuri Sysevich. Congratulations to all the new Middles.”

Yuri sat there without moving a single muscle, his blue eyes wide, one hand frozen midair where he’d idly reached over to caress Wyatt’s hair. Tom and Vik sniggered at the sheer astonishment on his face, and Wyatt snagged Yuri’s hand and kissed it. “Congratulations, Middle.”

Yuri still seemed to be trying to rouse from his dream as Vik’s name was announced—no surprise—and then came the real shock for the others at the end of the list of new Uppers.

“. . . and Thomas Raines.”

Tom had thirsted for this chance for a year. He had. But when his friends’ heads all swung around to stare at him, he felt a dark sort of uneasiness, knowing he’d been promoted at Vengerov’s behest, rewarded for betraying Medusa. Again.

Yuri clapped his shoulder, Wyatt ruffled his hair, and Vik gave him a playful shove. But Tom couldn’t even fake a smile.

THERE WAS ONE person decidedly unhappy about Tom’s promotion. Tom deliberately showed up late to his last Monday in Middle-Level Calisthenics so he wouldn’t get swept into the workout routine with the others. Karl ambushed him right outside the Calisthenics Arena and shoved him against the wall.

“How’d you do it, Benji?” he snapped, sour breath flaring in Tom’s nostrils.

Tom shoved him away. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

“Do you have something on General Marsh?” Karl’s voice blasted at him, his big, jowled face twisted with anger and hatred. “I know for a fact you were blacklisted!”