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"You're saying Danny kills me."
Reina didn't blink. "Loop Fourteen. You turned your back on him during drill. He put a training blade through your kidney."
We were crouched behind the east tower, voices low, dawn barely cracking the skyline. My coffee was cold in my hand. Again.
"Danny Locke," I said. "Kid can't hold a shield formation for ten seconds. You want me to believe he's the mole."
"I didn't say mole." She shifted, and her knee brushed mine. "I said he kills you. Could be compulsion. Could be possession. Could be he's just that desperate to prove something."
I watched her face. No tells. Reina Cross had the best poker face at Sentinel Point, which was either why she was top of the class or why she was still alive.
"Why tell me now?"
"Because last loop you didn't listen. You pulled Danny aside, tried to talk him down. He panicked. Stabbed you in the hallway outside the armory. Bled out before I could get there."
I took a sip. Cold, bitter, same as every other loop. "And the bomb still went off."
"Two hours later. All twenty-seven dead. You just died first."
She was close enough I could feel the heat coming off her, smell the faint soap-and-powder scent that didn't match the combat leathers. Her hand rested on the stone ledge between us, fingers loose, like she wasn't deciding whether to reach for a weapon or my wrist.
"So what's your play?" I asked.
"Let him die."
I laughed. It came out sharp, ugly. "That's your solution. Let a kid die."
"He's not the bomb. He's a trigger. You save him, you get killed. You get killed, I lose the only person who remembers. Then we're back to square one, and I'm alone in this."
"Alone," I said. "You've been looping too."
"Since Loop One." Her eyes locked on mine. "You think you're the only one stuck in this? I've watched you die sixteen different ways, Hale. Explosion. Blade. Friendly fire. Once you threw yourself on the detonator and it still didn't stop the chain. I'm tired of watching you die stupid."
Sixteen.
I'd lost count somewhere around twelve.
"Why didn't you tell me before?"
"Because the first time I did, you accused me of being the mole and locked me in the holding cell. Bomb went off anyway. You died in the blast, I woke up alone, and it took me three loops to get you to even look at me again."
Her voice was level, but her hand on the ledge had curled into a fist.
I set the coffee down. "So we let Danny die. What happens to the bomb."
"If he dies early, before noon, the detonation moves up. Eleven forty-three. If he dies after two, it's delayed until eighteen hundred. If you try to save him—"
"I die, and you're on your own."
"Right."
I looked at her. Really looked. She had a scar along her jaw I'd never noticed before, faint, like someone had gotten close once and she'd made sure they didn't get a second chance. Her breathing was controlled, but her pulse was visible at her throat. Fast.
"You're scared," I said.
She didn't deny it. "Of being alone in this, yeah. Of running out of loops before we find the real trigger. Of watching you die one more time because you've got a hero complex and a death wish."
"I don't have a death wish."
"You've got something." She leaned in, close enough I could see the gold flecks in her eyes. "Every loop, you try to save all of them. Every single one. You don't prioritize. You don't cut losses. You just burn yourself out trying to be the guy who doesn't let anyone die."
"That's the job."
"The job's keeping the facility standing and the mission intact. Not adopting twenty-seven kids who signed up to die for the kingdom."
I should've pulled back. Should've put space between us. Instead, I stayed right where I was.
"You sound like someone who's already picked who lives and who doesn't."
"I have." No hesitation. "You live. I live. We find the real bomb. Everyone else is a variable."
"Cold."
"Smart." Her hand moved, just an inch, and her fingers brushed the back of my wrist. "You want to die for Danny Locke, go ahead. I'll scrape you off the floor and start over. But don't ask me to pretend it's noble."
Her skin was warm. Her grip, when it tightened, was solid.
I pulled my hand back.
"When does he die today?"
"Thirteen hundred. Training yard. Someone puts a blade in his back during the melee drill."
"Someone."
"I don't know who yet. Changes every few loops. Last time it was Kade. Time before, it was Iris."
"So we watch."
"We watch," she agreed. "And we let it happen."
"Unless I see something you didn't."
Her mouth tightened. "Hale—"
"I'm not promising to let a kid die just because you've got a theory."
"It's not a theory. It's sixteen loops of data."
"Then one more won't kill you."
She stood, fast, and I thought for a second she was going to walk. Instead, she grabbed my collar and yanked me up to eye level.
"It might kill you," she said. "And then I'm back to zero. Alone. Is that what you want?"
I could feel her breath on my face. Her knuckles were pressed into my chest, her other hand still fisted at her side like she was deciding whether to hit me or pull me closer.
"Let go," I said.
She held on another two seconds. Then she released, stepped back, and turned toward the yard.
"Thirteen hundred," she said over her shoulder. "Don't be late."
---
The melee drill started on time. Twenty-seven students, training blades, two teams, last one standing wins. I stood on the edge of the ring with my arms crossed and my eyes on Danny.
He was already sweating. Kid fought like he had something to prove, all aggression and no defense, swinging wide and leaving himself open every third move. Kade disarmed him once. Iris knocked him flat twice. He kept getting up.
Reina was on the opposite side of the ring, still as stone, watching.
Twelve fifty-nine.
Danny blocked a strike from Lena, pivoted, and—
The blade came from behind. Clean. Fast. Right between the ribs.
Danny's eyes went wide. He dropped his weapon and grabbed for the hilt, but whoever had struck him was already gone, melted back into the crowd.
I moved.
Reina shouted something, but I was already across the ring, catching Danny as he fell.
"Hale—" His voice was wet, choking. Blood on his teeth. "I didn't— I wasn't—"
"Don't talk." I pressed my hand over the wound, felt the hot slick of blood pulsing between my fingers. "Medic! Now!"
No one moved fast enough. They never did.
Danny's hand found mine, gripped it. His fingers were cold. "I saw her," he whispered. "She told me— told me you'd—"
"Who?"
"Reina."
I looked up. Reina was standing five feet away, face blank, eyes locked on Danny's.
"She said—" Danny coughed, blood spattering his chin. "She said if I died, you'd figure it out. She said— she said I was the key."
His grip tightened. Then it went slack.
I checked his pulse. Nothing.
When I looked down, the blade was still in his back. Standard-issue training blade. Except—
The hilt was glowing.
Faint, red, like embers under ash. And scratched into the pommel, fresh, like someone had carved it seconds ago—
A name.
**Reina Cross.**
I pulled the blade free. The glow faded. The name stayed.
When I looked up, Reina was gone.
And the world went white.