“Tried ‘to get to know her.’” Leda snorted. “Tried to get into her pants, is what you mean.”

“At least I’m not obsessed with a guy who’s in love with someone else!”

Leda’s eyes narrowed, and twin spots of color appeared high on her cheeks. “You’re pathetic,” she snapped. “And incompetent. That was the one thing I asked you to figure out, and you couldn’t even manage that. Some hacker you are.”

Except that he had figured it out. Watt flinched, the thought of Avery and Atlas together making him ill. He drained the last of his whiskey to cover his uneasiness. The room started spinning disconcertingly.

Leda was watching him, her gaze strangely calculating. “She broke up with you, didn’t she?” she said softly, scooting a little closer to him. Watt was confused—but also, a part of him found, not displeased—by her sudden nearness. He could smell her rose-scented perfume, dusky and rich.

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry. If it’s any consolation, Atlas broke up with me too. But I’m sure you already know that, with all your hacking.”

“Like I’d keep tabs on you anymore, now that I’m not paid for it,” Watt said sarcastically.

Leda laughed, as if that were the funniest thing she’d ever heard. She searched through her bag a moment. “Want one?” she asked, holding out an array of pills in various shapes and colors.

Nadia sent alarm bells to ring in Watt’s head. “No thanks,” Watt said wearily. “I’m more of a booze guy, you know?”

Something flashed across Leda’s face for a moment, and then it was gone. “Of course.” She tucked the pills back into the bag and leaned over the table, busying herself refilling their drinks. When she pressed the cup of whiskey into his hand, Watt realized that a few of the pearl buttons of her school blouse had come undone. He could see through to her delicate white bra underneath.

“Here’s to us,” Leda said. “Both rejected by the Fuller siblings. But we’ll survive it, won’t we? Cheers.”

She held out her cup expectantly. Watt clinked his to it and then drank the whiskey in a single gulp. The bottle was closer to empty than full.

“Thanks.” Leda stretched her arms overhead and then leaned back on the couch, stretching out as if she’d always belonged there. “It’s nice, not being alone right now,” she murmured.

Watt sensed that Nadia was trying to get through to him. But even though she wasn’t affected by alcohol, he was—the neurons of his brain firing at a much lower speed than normal, unable to fully process the messages she was sending through his synapses. “I know whashu mean,” he said to Leda, and realized his words were slurring a little.

“Watt—” Leda’s hand was on his thigh, and she was looking at him, a question in her eyes. She was so much prettier than he’d ever noticed: her luminous eyes and full mouth and the smooth richness of her skin.

This was a bad idea. She moved to sit on top of him, the pleats of her skirt fanning out over his legs like the plumes of a peacock tail, and lowered her mouth to his. He considered protesting for a moment, but then Leda’s hands were under his shirt, and drifting lower, and it didn’t seem to matter so much anymore.

RYLIN

SATURDAY EVENING, RYLIN walked up to Cord’s apartment feeling lighter than she had in weeks. She’d met with V earlier to hand off the additional five Spokes packets—she’d been terrified that he might demand even more, and she wasn’t sure what she would have said if he did—but he’d just given her a nod and an eerie smile, and transferred the fifteen thousand NDs to her at once. She’d submitted it to the police as Hiral’s bail, but she hadn’t heard anything yet about when he would be released. She wasn’t exactly looking forward to it, after the way their last meeting had gone. What would he say when she told him they were over?

I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it, she told herself. She’d gotten his bail money just as he’d demanded; he couldn’t ask for anything else. Besides, all she wanted to think about right now was Cord. Every time she remembered their afternoon in Long Island—the waves pounding the beach below them, their bare feet digging into the sand as rain poured on the hovercover over their heads—she felt dizzy.

She stepped up to the front door, wearing a new sleeveless dress with shiny black zippers down one side and a scooped neck. Cord hadn’t told her what they were doing tonight, but when he’d messaged her earlier it had sounded like he had something special in mind.

She held her eyes open for the retina scanner. But the door didn’t open automatically, the way it had since Cord added her to the approved entry list weeks ago. Rylin frowned; Cord would have to call a tech to get that looked at. She pressed the bell for entry. “Cord?” she called out, knocking on the door the way lower-floor people did. Finally it swung open.

Rylin walked through the entryway and past the kitchen. The apartment felt strangely quiet: not a peaceful quiet, but an almost expectant hush, like in a holo theater before a movie was about to start. She walked a little faster.

“There you are,” Brice said from the living room.

He was perched on a high, straight-backed chair; his feet firmly planted on the ground, his elbows resting on the chair’s arms. Rylin was reminded of a king on his throne.