Again, that trap of a question. If she said yes, she could be killed or punished as a traitor.

But that could be the ‘looking down’ part.

“I don’t want to go home.”

“Is that because you’re afraid to leave, or you’re afraid to go?”

“I want to stay,” Colt said, and by the time the sentence was done she wasn’t sure if she believed it.

Nailbiter didn’t budge. No tells, no decisions.

“I don’t want to stay behind, but… I’m not sure I’m brave enough to be a soldier. Fire a gun.”

There was noise at the door. It opened, and Love Lost stepped through. Seeing her face, Colt was reminded of the golden man’s face in the rare video footage of him. Of the image that had been mass-printed, of an artist’s rendition of Scion, the man who would later end the world.

Not that Love Lost was capable of ending the world, but the expression was so similar. Caught between anger and sadness, disappointment too light, too loaded a word in Colt’s mind now that Nailbiter had talked about it. Crestfallen? Why?

“You’re not a kid,” Nailbiter said. “If you were, this would be easier. But because you’re not a kid, I can give you options. How would you like artificial courage?”

“Art—” Colt started. She stopped as she saw the pill Nailbiter held between two extended fingers.

“We don’t trust you enough to leave you at headquarters alone,” Nailbiter said. “If you can’t fight, you can’t be a soldier. So either take the steps necessary or get lost.”

Going home meant facing her parents. She’d attacked her mom to get her mom to let her go, while Nailbiter had watched it happen, not stepping in. Nailbiter had claimed her, and now Nailbiter was saying she had things wrong?

She didn’t get it.

But as scary as these guys were, going home was scary in another way.

She reached out for the pill. Nailbiter deposited it in her hand.

“Chew it, don’t swallow it. It’s going to last for a bit whatever you do, and you don’t want it having to sit for too long to work.”

Colt put it between her teeth. She bit hard, and it crumbled. The acrid taste flooded her senses.

“That’s awful. Ugh!” she cried out, doubling over. “Is this that pill person’s stuff?”

She looked up, and she caught the very tail end of Love Lost and Nailbiter silently communicating something between them.

Having already taken a second or two longer than she usually did, Nailbiter answered her, “No. Nothing tinker about it. It’s an upper. Some energy, some recklessness. Courage, if you want to call it that.”