I cut Lingyi off with a sharp laugh. “Donate it? Will that change how bad things are in Taiwan?” I turned to Arun. “Would a donation be enough for what your mom wanted to do—the changes she wanted to make?”

He reared back as if I’d slapped him. I didn’t care, fueled by a frustration and anger that felt as if they could burn a hole through my chest.

“That’s not fair, Zhou,” Lingyi said.

“There is no ‘fair’ in this scenario.” I fell back into my seat because Iris had begun flexing her fingers, danger lurking behind her dark eyes as she tracked me. I didn’t think I could win against her in a fight. Actually, I knew I didn’t have a chance. Any advantage in strength I might have she made up for in agility and speed. Iris always sided with Lingyi. “I refuse to be a bystander anymore. It’s bullshit.”

We simmered in silence for a long moment. The silver barbot floated between us, offering drinks, as if trying to placate a tough crowd.

Then Arun said, “No.”

We stopped sipping our alcohol.

“A donation isn’t enough,” Arun said. “My mom tried legislation, and look where that got her—murdered.” He drew a long, shaking breath, his fierce orange spikes did nothing to make him appear less vulnerable. “We should stick with the plan. Target Jin.”

“All Da Ge needs to do is put Zhou’s face through a recognition system, match it with the image he has, and it’s endgame,” Lingyi said.

We all knew that “endgame” wouldn’t mean a botched operation—it would mean me, dead. The thought of death didn’t scare me. I’d glimpsed it enough times in my life. In my mind, the reward of shutting Jin down was worth every risk.

“I’ve got the best face recognition program on the market,” Vic said. “Let’s see, then.”

He stood and passed his Palm over my face, bathing me in green light for a few seconds, then proceeded to type some commands into it. We waited. The suite felt too hot all of a sudden, and my hands dampened with sweat.

“Nothing.” Vic grinned after a minute. “The program couldn’t confirm a match between the rendered image they had and the scan I took of Zhou’s face.”

“So I’m in,” I said triumphantly.

“You do know what this means, though, right?” Arun asked. We all stared at him expectantly. “Jin’s the one who sent those thugs after you,” he said. “Which means he’s somehow involved in this. He’s the one who wants you dead. Maybe he’s connected you with”—he swallowed, looking pained—“my mom.”

“Shit,” Victor murmured. “It’s like sending poor Zhou into the lion’s den.”