“Just… try not to Rhodes this,” he said. “Okay?”
“Once again, my name is not a verb, Varona.”
“Whatever.” He rubbed his temple. “Look, definitely don’t tell Fowler—”
“I don’t tell Ezra anything,” she snapped, preemptively irritated. “Certainly not anymore.”
Nico blinked. “What does that mean?”
“Nothing.” Nothing she wanted to say to him, anyway. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Fine, just—” Nico exhaled, dropping his voice. “I think,” he murmured, “when they say we have to eliminate someone, they mean it… literally.”
That wasn’t what Libby had been expecting at all. “What?”
“The sixth person, the person who doesn’t get initiated. I think they get—” An agitated pause.
“Get what?”
“Jesus.” Nico tousled his hair with one hand. “Killed.”
“No,” said Libby. “That’s ridiculous. That’s impossible.”
“I mean, I’m sure it is,” said Nico reflexively. “But also, is it?”
“That’s nonsensical.”
She glared at him, frowning. “Who told you that?”
“Parisa, but—”
That was slightly more troubling, given the mind-reading. “Then she must have misinterpreted or something. Or maybe she’s lying.”
Nico was surprisingly hesitant. “I don’t think so, Rhodes.”
“Well, it’s outrageous,” said Libby caustically. “There’s no way we’re part of… of some kind of…” She fumbled, flustered. “Some sort of murder competition—”
“Maybe we’re not,” Nico agreed. “Maybe it’s a trick or something. Or maybe it’s the whole intent thing Dalton was going on about,” he said, waving a hand in reference to the lesson he had probably only half-listened to. “Maybe we just have to be willing to do it in order for it to work, but—”
“What do you mean ‘work’？”
“Well, Parisa says—”
“Parisa doesn’t know shit,” said Libby staunchly.
“Okay, great, maybe not, but that’s the information I have, so that’s what I’m giving you. Christ,” Nico suddenly swore loudly, “you’re fucking impossible.”
“Me?” She glared at him. “Who else knows, then?”
He winced. “Everyone, I think.”
“Everyone ‘you think’？”
“I—” He faltered. “Fine, I know.”
“Seriously. Everyone?”
“Yes, Rhodes, everyone.”
“That’s impossible.”
She was aware she was repeating herself, but it seemed unlikely she could bring herself to respond another way.
“Has anyone bothered to ask Atlas?” she demanded, suddenly infuriated. “Is any of this even remotely confirmed?”
“I don’t know, but—”
“You don’t know?”
“Elizabeth, would you listen to me?”
“Of course not, this is absurd.”
“Fine,” said Nico, throwing his hands up. “For what it’s worth, I hate it too, but—”
“But what?” Libby demanded. “What could possibly be the but, Varona? What about this would you kill for?”
“Jesus, Rhodes, which part of this wouldn’t you kill for?”
He had shouted it at her, his mouth snapping shut with alarm. She blinked, taken aback.
“I only meant,” Nico began hastily, and then shook his head, grimacing. “No, never mind. Talk to me when you’re ready, when you’ve processed. I can’t explain this right now.”
“Varona,” Libby growled, but he was already walking away, shaking her off like a chill.
So Libby had checked the surveillance wards to discover that Atlas Blakely, who had offered them a position beyond their wildest imaginations without ever mentioning the cost, was alone in the reading room.
“You must have known there would be something,” Atlas said, jarring her from her momentary stumble.
She didn’t bother asking how he knew what she was thinking about. “So it’s true?”
“It’s not as gruesome as it sounds,” said Atlas placidly. “But yes, one of you will have to die.”
Part of her was convinced she was imagining this. Was it a dream? Surely not, and yet not a thread of her had ever believed, even for a moment, that Atlas would ever confirm Nico’s suspicions as truth.