Nova’s gut tightened as she read through the application, and she didn’t think it was from the constant swaying of the houseboat. It felt like there were too many holes in this hastily constructed life. An uncle she’d never met. Parents she felt no connection to. A teacher and an employer, a house and a job, and any one of them could be proved false if someone only bothered to dig a little deeper.
She had to remind herself that everyone born in the Age of Anarchy had holes missing in their records. All those things that had kept society organized before had been stripped away—from medical records to school enrollment, tax forms to bank statements. There was none of that. Only people trying to survive. To go on with life as best they could.
No one would think twice about where she lived or who she lived with or whether or not her old teacher was lying when she called Nova a delight.
The Renegades cared about finding the best prodigies to make their organization stronger, smarter, better. If she got in, all she would have to do was persuade them that she was worth keeping, and no one would care about her past or her connections.
They wouldn’t think to dig any deeper until it was too late.
“I trust it’s all to your satisfaction?” said Millie, looking not at Nova, but Leroy.
He nodded and pulled a roll of cash from an inside pocket. Millie took it and undid the rubber band, counting it out before rolling it back up. Nova watched it disappear in her fist with a new weight settling on her shoulders. She had not considered payment, or where that money would come from, but of course Millie would want something for her services. Seeing the transaction made this whole scheme seem suddenly very real. That was money Leroy had worked for—whether by selling legal substances for killing off vermin and pests, or less legal drugs and poisons distributed into the underground markets. Either way, it was his toil and hardship, and she felt a twinge of responsibility to see how very little all that money had gotten them.
One false identity. A name, an address, a past.
A single chance for Nova to enter the Renegade trials and become their spy.
“Don’t forget to sign the application,” said Millie.
Turning to the last page, Nova pressed the application against the top of the copy machine and clicked the ballpoint pen.
“McLain,” Millie reminded her.
Inhaling deeply, she scrawled a signature across the bottom line. Nova Jean McLain.
She held the pen back to her, but instead of taking it, Millie grasped Nova’s forearm and yanked her closer. Nova’s body tensed, readying for a fight, but the woman merely bent over her wrist, inspecting the bracelet.
“David Artino’s work?” she murmured, her voice tinged with awe. She traced one finger along the chain of the bracelet. Her lashes fluttered, her brow knitting as if in deep concentration. “He was indeed a master.” She flipped Nova’s arm over and shot her a sly look, tapping her pinkie nail against the bracelet’s clasp. “And he certainly was a handsome young man, wasn’t he?”
“Excuse me?” Nova stammered.
Leroy turned a mildly interested look toward Nova. “What handsome young man?”
“I don’t…” Nova hesitated, picturing a relaxed smile and warm fingers wrapped softly around her wrist. She scowled and ripped her arm away from Millie. “No one. He was no one. Just some guy.”
Tittering, Millie took the pen from her. “That’s all, then. Good luck, Insomnia.”
Still frowning, Nova snapped the folder closed. “Yeah, thanks.”
She turned, winding her way back through the cabin. Leroy shuffled after her, moving slow as not to knock over any of the teetering piles.
“Out of curiosity,” said Millie, when they were nearly to the door, “what will you do about the fingerprints?”
Nova glanced back. “Fingerprints?”
“We’ll take care of it,” said Leroy. Reaching past Nova, he shoved open the door, letting in a surge of salted air.
“They need fingerprints?” said Nova, stepping back onto the dock. The boathouse door slammed shut behind them, and a second later, she heard the click of a lock.
Leroy scuttled past her, his head ducked against the spray coming off the water. “They will run a fingerprint scan at the trials, yes.”
Nova followed after him. “But … the gun. They have the gun I used at the parade. They must have tested it for prints and entered them into their database by now. If they scan me at the trials, they’ll know.”
“If the prints match.”