EDEN‌

Dominic Hann.

Daniel says his name again as we sit back in our apartment. For the first time since I can remember, he tells me about one of the missions that he’s working on. Apparently, he’s been on the trail of this guy for months.

He tells me that Dominic Hann is wanted for at least a dozen murders and has probably committed many more that have never been linked to him. Undercity victims indebted to him, unable to pay back their money. People who have crossed him, whether on purpose or accidentally. And now councilmen, given the murder that happened tonight.

“And there you were,” my brother says, pacing in front of the couch where I sit. “Having a conversation with the deadliest murderer in Ross City like you two were goddy friends.”

“He just wanted to profit off my winnings,” I say, trying not to show my shaking hands. In my view, I can see messages from Pressa coming in, each more frantic than the last. Your brother was there! she’s exclaiming. Are you home? I’m back at my dad’s shop. Everything just went pitch-black! Are you all right? Eden?

Can’t talk right now, I quickly message her back. Tell you later. “Right.” Daniel flashes me a look. He seems even more annoyed as he

notices I’m messaging while he’s talking. “Because that’s all a notorious killer needs, a few extra corras in his pocket.”

“He liked the design of my drone, he offered to be my patron so that he could see it race, and he pocketed a bunch of money for my win. He never seemed interested in hurting me.” My voice turns urgent, as if I’m trying to convince myself too.

I try to picture Dominic as a ruthless killer. But his calmness still lingers in my mind, the way he understood me with a single observation, more than my brother does right now. The contrast between these two thoughts makes me shiver.

Daniel stops right in front of me and sighs. “Eden, I know you don’t know what it’s like to truly live on the streets. I’ve worked my entire life to make sure that never happens to you. I know you don’t understand a lot of what happened tonight, or what made it so dangerous. But—”

His tone makes me recoil. I know you don’t understand. Like I’m still ten years old. Like I don’t know what the hell I’m doing with my life. “Don’t talk to me like that,” I say.

He frowns at me. “Like what?”

My temper starts to boil over. “Like that,” I say again as I get to my feet. “This isn’t a conversation or a discussion. We’re not even having an argument. You’re lecturing me.”

“You were down in the Undercity again! In a drone race! Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?”

“Then scream at me!” I insist. “Tell me how you can’t believe I did what I did tonight! Anything’s better than your pity!”

“I don’t pity you!” he yells. “My life would be a lot easier if you weren’t disappearing off to the dregs of this city every night!”

The Undercity is nothing but a pit of filth to him. When had he changed so much? “If the agency you work for wasn’t so tyrannical,” I yell back, “Pressa’s dad wouldn’t need to be a millionaire just to survive. We wouldn’t need to gamble on the races. And I wouldn’t have to explain myself to you as if I were talking to a damn stranger.”

Daniel just shakes his head. “You don’t get it,” he mutters. It’s all he resorts to, turning me back into the little brother.

But we aren’t brothers here. He’s my father, and I’m his son. The feeling of distance, along with the fear of everything that happened tonight, now threatens to smother me.

In disgust, I turn away. “When I leave for the Republic,” I say, “maybe it’d be best if you didn’t come with me. You should just stay here.”

Daniel winces, and I feel an urge to take it back. But instead I turn from him and head to my room.

Behind me, Daniel raises his voice. “Wait, Eden,” he calls out.

I pause as he hurries to my side. “Please,” he says, taking a deep breath. “What?” I mutter.

He hesitates and his gaze hardens on mine. “Fine. Go to the Republic by yourself.”

He’s letting me go? I narrow my eyes at him. It surprises me how his comment cuts me. But my pride refuses to let me show that. “Fine,” I repeat.

Daniel winces again, as if he’d been hoping I’d say something different. But we each stay on our own side, no longer able to understand each other. It’s like I’m looking back at someone I haven’t known since I was a baby.

Then I turn away again. This time, Daniel doesn’t stop me as I head into my room and close the door between us.

“This won’t take long. You may feel a little buzz.”

Beside me, my brother folds his arms and turns his mouth down in a concerned scowl. “Go easy,” he replies to the woman. “He’s never used this system before.”

I grit my teeth at his familiar condescension and ignore him. I’m standing in the middle of a circular room at the top of the AIS headquarters with Daniel, a half-dozen other investigators, and the woman who had just spoken to me—Min Gheren, the AIS director herself. Glass windows stretch from floor to ceiling and curve around the chamber, giving us a stunning view of Ross City.

My eyes dart briefly to the endless plain of skyscrapers outside, each interconnected by webs of walkways. From up here, you can’t see the Undercity. It’s like it doesn’t exist at all.

I jerk back to the scene as one of the others in the room comes up to me and presses a thin metal bar against the back of my ear, where my chip is installed. “What are you doing?” I ask the director.

She fixes me with a piercing stare. “Mr. Wing,” she says to me, and Daniel shifts uncomfortably nearby, “it was right of your brother to inform AIS of the fact that you crossed paths with a man we’ve been struggling to track down for months. You need to understand that Dominic Hann never appears at gatherings like the one you attended last night. He does not need to show his face when his underlings can do the job for him. So imagine what it means that your performance so interested him that he decided to speak to you in person.”

The director pauses, then looks to her side at Daniel. She gives him a stern nod. “Tell him,” she says.

Daniel looks at me. His gaze is cool and calm this morning, like we didn’t have our argument the night before. “AIS has a system where we can replay and pull your memories up as a virtual scene,” he explains. “It’s all stored away on your chip. When we activate your system in here, it allows us to see the memory as you did, while trying to pick up on clues that you may not

have noticed.”

I exchange a silent look with my brother. He doesn’t say more, but there’s a difference in the way he stares back at me. He’s not angry with me anymore; he’s afraid.

“Sounds like a plan,” I say.

The director gives us both a nod of approval. Then she waves a hand before her. A virtual screen hovers between us. From the way Daniel’s turned his head toward it, I can tell that it’s visible to everyone else in here too.

ALLOW MEMORY ACCESS TO LAST NIGHT?

I take a deep breath. “Granted,” I reply.

The screen disappears. A strange tingle starts at my temples, sweeps up to my head, and then all the way down my body. I shiver. The world around me takes on a blue tint. The chamber, the glass walls, the floor and ceiling—all of it fades away, leaving me and the others standing against a black backdrop. I sway, dizzy at the sight.

Then a scene rushes into place around us. It’s everything that happened the evening before, just as I remember it—I see myself walking through the tiny bar and stepping into the makeshift elevator. The rusted interior of the elevator shaft appears all around us, like a weird reenactment of the scene in which Daniel and AIS agents are also heading down with me. We stop at the bottom. Then we follow the memory version of myself out into the same hall, stopping ultimately out in the underground arena, where the countdown is on the wall and the drone race is setting up.

“Pause,” the director says beside me.

The scene around us halts abruptly, like a movie stilled in three dimensions. The waving arms of the audience freeze, their voices go suddenly silent, the countdown stops.

Min walks around the scene, studying the walls and the crowd. Daniel waves me forward, and I walk uneasily through my frozen memory with him. My brother stops before one of the halls on the other side of the room, where my memory of it goes a little fuzzy. It translates as a grainy view before us.

Daniel points to one of the halls. “Dominic Hann came out of there,” he says to the director. It’s something I hadn’t seen in the heat of the moment.

The director nods before she shifts to analyzing the crowd. We walk through the scene again until we reach the center of the arena. She points out a face near the front of the audience. “There,” she says. “One of Hann’s men.

They were running this show.”

Daniel calls for the scene to continue. As if in a dream, I see myself with my drone, then everything that happens in the race.

“Pause.” This time, Daniel says it, and my drone halts in midair. He nods down to the corner of my memory’s scene, where the blur of the audience’s faces is. He points to the man that the director just called out as one of Dominic Hann’s people.

The man isn’t watching anymore. He’s standing up, exchanging a few words with someone else as his eyes dart toward me.

The race continues. We halt the scene several more times whenever my view returns to show Hann’s person. The man walks out with another associate as the race ends, and they disappear into the hall that Daniel pointed out earlier.

Then an hour later, halfway through the second heat, I see Hann emerge.

Daniel sucks his breath in, while Director Min lets out a low whistle. Her eyes veer to me. “So,” she says, “Hann came out to the race specifically to see you.”

Even as I hear her words, the scene continues to play, and I see the virtual version of Dominic Hann walk up to me. The unease that ran through me then

—the instinct that told me this man was someone unusual—now washes back over me.

He looks so realistic that, for a moment, I genuinely believe he’s in the room with us. I take an unconscious step back as he approaches me. The virtual world around us shudders and blurs, and a haze fades the images around us.

Daniel steps toward me. “Pause. Clear,” he says, his gaze on his director. The scene halts, and Dominic Hann and the Undercity fade into white before the AIS chamber comes back into view. “Give him a rest. His emotions are interfering with the quality of the memory playback.”

“I can do this,” I say to him.

But the director’s not paying attention to Daniel anymore. Instead, her stare is fixed on me. She narrows her eyes. “What were you doing down in the Undercity, Mr. Wing?” she asks me. “You know drone races are strictly banned.”

She’s going to dock my Level hard for this, I know, but in this moment, I hardly care. My lips tighten into a line. “I don’t think it’s relevant to why you needed me here,” I reply.

She raises an eyebrow at me and glances at my brother. “Well, I see where

he gets his attitude from,” she says wryly to him before returning her attention to me. “We’ll need to pull an earlier memory from you, of how you heard about this race and what sent you down there.”

Pressa. If the director digs as intimately into that memory as she did to my journey down to the Undercity, she’ll have AIS agents questioning Pressa in no time.

I cross my arms and frown at the director. “You said you just wanted my memory from last night. I didn’t authorize anything beyond that.”

“You are obliged to aid us in this investigation as we need it. That includes your past memories, including your thoughts and any dreams you might have had recently.”

My nightmares. And suddenly I can feel those haunting dreams of mine creeping up in the back of my mind, a faceless mother and a desolate Republic street, details I’ve never been able to fill in. The AIS system shudders around me as it tries to re-create the images popping up in my thoughts. No, I think, trying to hold back. Fear rips through me. I don’t want to show them.

I half expect Daniel to agree with her, to turn to me and insist that I answer her question properly. But he takes a step toward his director. “You’re not digging into his other memories,” he says. His voice is calm, but I can hear the familiar undercurrent of steel in it.

And, for once, I’m grateful.

The AIS system around me cuts off abruptly, along with the emerging whispers of my dreams. I let out a shaking breath.

The director turns to my brother with an exasperated look. This isn’t the first time he has disagreed with her. “Watch that tone, Agent,” she says.

He shakes his head. “Doesn’t change what I’m saying, ma’am.”

The director looks like she’s ready to reprimand him—but then she sighs and looks back at me. I hold my breath. “We’ll comb through the rest of the Undercity memory you’ve given us,” she finally says. I exhale. Before the relief can linger, though, she adds, “But that doesn’t mean your involvement on this case is done.”

Daniel speaks up again. “Director—”

“Stand down, Agent,” she snaps, and Daniel quiets into a scowl. She looks back at me. “You are the first person in months to get a glimpse of Dominic Hann, let alone direct access to him. When I tell you that this man does not just let you play a single game with him, I mean it. Hann likes to get what he wants, and he’s clearly expressed interest in you.”

She forces my memory to continue playing, and we watch the final moments go down before she pauses at the end of the race, right before the lights cut out, when Hann has risen from his seat. I didn’t notice it myself— but in that final moment, he had his eyes fixed on me as he murmured something to his associate. They were getting ready to approach me.

The director places a hand on her hip. “I’m willing to bet anything that he was about to make you an offer to join him. It’s not the kind of offer you can turn down.”

The thought makes my stomach recoil. Daniel stiffens beside me. “Enough,” Daniel says.

Min ignores him and focuses on me. “Our proposal is this: We need you to draw him out. We will track every movement you make. If you lure Hann out into a space where our agents are ready for him, we can take him down before he can escape.”

My face pales. Daniel steps in front of me, his arm instinctively pushing me behind him as he’d done when I was still a kid. “You want to use him as a mole?” he snaps. Now the real anger is out.

“You are an agent for the AIS,” the director snaps back. “And right now, Eden is the sole link between us and the man we’ve been hunting.” She looks back at me. Even though she is stern, there’s a pleading glint in her eyes. “I am not going to force you to do something you’re uncomfortable with. This all depends on what you decide. But you are the closest thing we have to a lead, and it’s an overwhelming one. We are going to do everything in our power to keep you safe.”

“But we can’t guarantee that,” Daniel adds.

“Do you run this agency, Wing?” Min says coldly to him.

He just shrugs. “I’m willing to do a lot for this agency,” he replies. “But handing my brother over to a killer is not one of them.”

Her eyes narrow. “This isn’t a game. There are a lot of lives at stake here.” Again, others are deciding my fate, not me.

“What do you want, Eden?” Daniel suddenly asks me.

I look at my brother. All I wanted to do was help someone out—I didn’t expect to find myself here, caught in a web between two enormous forces. I turn back to the director. “Give me some time,” I finally say.

She nods. “You have until morning.”

Daniel mutters a curse under his breath and turns away. He nods for me to follow him. The tension in the room feels thick enough to cut, and I wonder how many times he’s had confrontations like this with his director.

When my brother escorts me out of the room and we are alone in the hall, he reaches up to disable my system’s records. He turns his own off too. Then he leans close.

“Eden,” he says in a low voice. “Don’t do this.”

His voice is so worried that it even cuts through my resentment. “Your director’s going to be disappointed,” I mutter.

“That’s my job. Yours is to steer clear of Dominic Hann. Your interaction alone has given us more clues than we’ve ever had.” He’s silent for a moment. When he glances over his shoulder through the windows, out at the city, I glimpse the fear on his face. He turns back to me. “This isn’t like the war, Eden. This isn’t saving the Republic from the Colonies. We didn’t leave the Republic behind just for me to throw you back into a snake pit.”

I look at my brother. “You’ve been in this snake pit for months, and I had no idea. You never breathed a word about any of this to me. You put yourself in danger every single night while I stay home and wait, hoping you come back from whatever the hell you’re doing.”

He looks exhausted now. I think back to how I saw him perched on the edge of his balcony the other night, his gaze settled on the city before him. I have nightmares, but I wonder for the first time if maybe he does too, if they’re worse.

His voice hushes. “Let me deal with AIS,” he says again. “But promise me you’ll stay away from the Undercity. Let Hann forget about you. He’s still a busy man with plenty of other businesses to attend to. Maybe a racer isn’t going to be his top priority.” He takes a breath. “Maybe it really is like you said. He just wanted a quick win.”

I meet my brother’s steady gaze. “I promise.” I don’t add what I want to say. Even though you can’t do the same.