Hazel, get back here! The notification from Sophie had apparently come in while Hazel sat at the coffee shop with Rel.

What is it, Sophe?

My dad’s awake, and he needs to talk to you.

Hazel’s chest tightened. Awake?

He was in a coma, like I was, but his company figured out what happened with me and used that to wake him up. Just come over here!

More than anything, Hazel wanted to get to Peter while she still had the courage. But Sophie seemed very insistent.

I’m so glad your dad’s okay, but I’m right in the middle of something. You know I would drop everything if you were in urgent need, but can I come over in an hour? If he just wants to talk to me?

There was a pause, and Hazel knew Sophie was irritated.

The doctors are with my dad at his office building, and they won’t bring him back here until after lunch. Just make it back by one.

I’m sorry, Sophie. You know if this weren’t important, I would drop everything… “Important like the fate of the world,” Hazel murmured to herself as her bike approached Peter’s apartment.

I know. Just be careful, and come back over here soon.

Why would Sophie think there was a need for caution? Had she and Rel made a secret “mistrust Peter” pact? Hazel pressed her anxiety under irritation. Both of them could go jump in a lake.

Stowing her bike against one of the pillars outside Peter’s house, she shot him a notification.

A few seconds later, the garage door opened, and Peter sauntered out to grab her by the hand, pulling her in past his private car and to the elevator he had never let her use before. All of Hazel’s nerves stood on end, but she willfully suppressed them, certain that she had let Sophie and Rel feed unfounded suspicions. Still, butterflies fluttered in her stomach when she considered the cause for the change.

“You came back,” he intoned, curiosity mixed with…maybe relief? Guilt clutched at her chest when she read his expression.

“Of course I came back, Peter. I told you I would. Did you think I lied?”

Rather than answer, Pete just reached past her and pressed the button, sending the elevator on a slow ascent. He didn’t pull back his arm, instead holding his hand against the wall as he moved his body toward her, his eyes riveted to hers with some acute tension she couldn’t interpret.

“This is new,” she accused softly when he didn’t answer.

“Elevators are fun,” Peter smirked as the earth beneath her moved.

As soon as the doors shut, he pressed her against the wall, and the sensation of the ascent added to her breathlessness when he kissed her. She would have thought that he could afford a faster elevator with all his money, but apparently he was okay with its slow speed, because he utilized every second to rip her away from self-control. When the door finally glided open, she found herself unable to move, even though Peter left her and stepped through to his apartment.

She wanted to shove him as he walked away. If he kept messing with her mind, she would never be able to find out the truth. With his hot and cold act, he left her angry but somehow desperate to chase after him, to bring him back. Closing her eyes, Hazel forced herself to stroll casually out of the elevator behind him.

“Do you have plans tonight?” she wondered, successfully removing most of the breathlessness from her tone. “I wondered if I could catch a few hours of Trip. I need to finalize my team for Friday, and there are a couple of tanks I need to play with to gauge their skills. Then once I choose, I need to play some and talk strategy.”

Apparently, she had managed enough nonchalance to irritate him – he had obviously expected to affect her more – and he threw his hand over his shoulder at her. A dismissal.

“Of course I have plans,” he agreed. “The Bridge doesn’t leave me time to sit around and play games. Don’t feel like you have to be social in my house, though. Just use it like your own.”

With little ceremony, he stalked into his room and had crossed to leave in under a minute. “I’ll be back in an hour, but you can stay and play. You can let yourself out.” He didn’t want her out of his sight, but her indifference and resistance was undermining his cool, and he couldn’t afford to lose it before the Deconstruction. I could handcuff her to my bed, he steamed.

He had sat and waited hours for her, and she didn’t even have the courtesy to pay attention to him when she showed up? She was just going to use him for his Bridge speed? She could have it, then, and she could sit alone in his house and wait for him for a while. Once the Bridge had fallen, she would have nowhere else to go anyway. The thought made Pete smile.

Pete’s words conveyed a perfectly hospitable sentiment, but Hazel could read through them. I must have really pissed him off. If he had spoken his true thoughts, they would have fallen more along the lines of, “I know I invited you to live with me, but what that really means is that you are supposed to be here for me whenever I want to have you around. If what you want interferes with what I want, you owe it to me to give me what I want.”

Shooting a glare at his retreating form, Hazel seated herself in the leather chair and pulled up to the table, quickly making her way into the Trifecta. She wanted to rush into Peter’s room and crack open his computer as fast as her mind could manage it, but since she had told him she would play Trip, she at least needed to play for a few minutes just in case he came home unexpectedly. Once he had been gone for half an hour or so, she would risk it, but not before then.

It amazed her how, after only a few minutes in Peter’s presence, the normalcy of his confident disregard could suppress the suspicions that moments before had overwhelmed her with anxiety. Was it a unique skill he possessed? Was it human nature? She knew who he was, and she recognized how likely it was that he had played some role in everything that was happening around her, but the moment she saw his face, she forgot. She began to doubt herself, doubt her instincts, like he wove a spell that told her, “Just believe me, and all will be well.”

Certainly, Peter was her superior in intelligence, and in just base knowledge, but to Hazel, there were many more important things, and she wondered that she forgot them in his presence. Like not using advantage to harm innocent people. He had kind of trampled Hazel almost since he had known her, taking her for granted and using her to entertain himself. She had put up with it because he hadn’t been like that at the beginning – when he had needed her – and she kept seeing flashes of that old attention. Not only that, but admitting that his callous attitude bothered her would prove his belief that she was weak. Even worse, somehow she had not imagined he might consider others with as little respect as he considered her. She had thought it her own inadequacy, not a fault in Peter.

Looking back at recent history, she realized that Peter had long forgone any sincere recognition of her value or importance. She already felt far too unimportant in the world, and she had never expected Pete to provide that for her. But there was a big difference between not expecting special treatment and watching someone disregard her as anything more than a tool for his own convenience. Even Hazel respected herself more than that. Now that I see it…

Now that she saw it, she felt embarrassed at herself that she hadn’t noticed before. Especially since he treated the largest part of humanity with the same disregard. Only if someone held enough power of significance did Peter consider them worth his notice.

And there she had it. On a grand scale, Peter Donovan was superhuman. On a personal scale, he was kind of a jerk. What had she subjected herself to for the past several years? To a memory of a man – not even of the man, but of what he had appeared in her darkest hour. How hard would it have been for anyone to be a support when she couldn’t stand at all? Even an emotional weakling would have seemed a giant after her dad died, because she had needed anyone.

Because Peter was such a powerful person, she hadn’t registered his weakness. On some inherent level, she had reacted to it with a protective instinct, as she would have for a child. But Peter Donovan was an emotional child with the mind and body of a very intentional and powerful man. When she recognized how thoroughly she had deceived herself about him, her stomach clinched. For the next half-hour, she tried to play, distracted by Peter’s anger before he had left.

Suddenly, all the characters on her screen blurred. For a moment, she felt like someone had drugged her, but she soon realized that her mind had just shut down. She was tired of worrying about Peter and his dissatisfaction. When she came to herself, a mage was unleashing spell after spell on her, and she almost didn’t recover in time to clobber him with a rally of shots. She took refuge behind a nearby pub. If she planned on solving her relationship problems, she needed to get off of her game. So close to the Partie, there was little room for a lapse. She couldn’t afford for any of her gear to be stolen by a defeat.

Instead of leaving right away, she sent a request to open a chat with the new player, DayBender, who had almost just destroyed her. He was actually very impressive, and the two mages she had been talking to for the past week just seemed noncommittal.

He didn’t reply for a minute, but once he had busted through a group of Pros, the chat utility opened. If he was interested, Hazel hoped he would link up so they could just talk like normal humans.

You’re good, she offered bluntly. Are you elite?

Just made it last week, DayBender replied in text. He had ignored her request to voice link.

You qualified for the Partie? She knew it was unlikely unless the guy played nonstop since he made elite, but she could hope.

This morning. It’s been hell trying to get in, but I kind of bought my way in, sorry to say.

Well, so far so good…

You have a team?

Not really. I was playing with my best friend, but she has joined up with another group and left me hanging.

Hazel laughed. Some friend. Sorry about that. I happen to be looking for another teammate. I wanted a mage, and you’ve got some pretty powerful magic options. You interested?

I mean, I’m not a mage. This is actually a workaround avatar – I’m an assassin, but if you don’t mind…Do you broadcast? I’d like to see who I would be joining if I said yes.

Hazel posted the link to ExDominus. I’ve had some craziness happening in my life and haven’t really broadcast much. You can look this guy up to see my level of play, though – he’s a teammate, and I show up on his feed sometimes. I don’t record automatically since I don’t have a Wire.

Cool! You’re Wire-free.

With a sigh, Hazel typed her typical response. Yep. Wire-free. That’s me…

Me, too.

For the first time in a while, Hazel felt something akin to giddiness. Wait, you’re Wire-free?

I am.

I can’t believe I stumbled on an elite Wire-free by coincidence. What are the chances?

Wouldn’t really know. I’m a transplant from a similar game - I’ve only been playing Trip for a couple of months. Definitely haven’t run into any elite before you, though.

Hazel upbraided herself as a sliver of jealousy stabbed through her, seeing as she was the only Wire-free she had personally encountered who had navigated the game so easily. In light of her excitement, though, she suppressed the envy.

Watch that broadcast. If you are interested, message me. I kind of need to know by tomorrow so we can manage strategy – sounds like you don’t have much tournament experience.

If he didn’t answer, she could invite any number of less desirable mages, but the Wire-free connection had really gripped her. She had not imagined herself subject to the disease of interest in superficial similarities, but someone so gifted at least had to be interesting.

I’ll get back to you tomorrow, DayBender promised, and Hazel switched off her game. She really didn’t have any reason to play before the Partie, and the exhilaration of meeting DayBender had made her antsy.

The adrenaline also made her braver than usual.

Standing to her feet, she glanced around the room, making her way to the nooks and crannies where Peter might be ensconced with his own business. She didn’t think he had returned, but she tended to shut herself off from the real world when she was engaged in the virtual one. Still, she didn’t encounter him after a minute of searching and calling, and there were only so many separate spaces in the huge studio apartment.

She made her way toward the bedroom, continuing to call so that she didn’t stumble in on Peter unannounced. When she still received no response after knocking on the bedroom door, she depressed the hidden panel, and the door opened into an empty room. Just to be safe, she checked the bathroom, and when she did not find him, her excitement quickly ramped back up.

Hazel swiped her hand under the green beam, and the keyboard lit up on the desk. The giant screen hummed to life. She popped open her prompt again to see what she could find, and the root directory opened.

Just like the time before, she encountered all of the monitor logs, for satellites and the Stream and the Bridge infrastructure. Again, she encountered the gamer names, and she made sure to scroll through several pages, capturing an image each time so she could expand the list of names Rel had. When Hazel slashed back to the main prompt, she decided to explore a couple of the other entries, and she went through several folders finding nothing.

Even though she didn’t expect to find anything interesting, just boring maintenance information, she entered the folder for satellites. When her eye encountered a subdirectory called SOA Haywire, she froze. Pete said he worked with them. Opening the folder, she began to scan the files. It was full of the programming files that rendered the Trifecta. The pub, the bartender, the buildings inside, the hill…and the glitch. With reference to the foreign server she and Rel had speculated about.

Hazel’s breath sped so much that she had to put her hands over her head to keep herself from hyperventilating. Peter had all of it, though Hazel didn’t have time to figure out what it all meant. She found the address where the Queue car had nearly killed her, and she bet that some of the code in the folder gave a trigger command to set off the Queue car accident. Had Peter directed it at anyone who approached the location or at her specifically?

Lowering her arms, she pulled out her handheld and opened the images she had captured earlier, comparing the references on the monitor to the ones on her handheld. There was one, with a matching code next to Pandem2102’s gamertag. The code seemed to link Pandem2102 to a satellite for some reason. Hazel quickly captured the image of the satellite folder and slashed out of the directory. As she did, she grew aware of a voice that was growing louder – Peter was walking down the hall.

She swiftly turned off the monitor and rushed over to her drawer, her heart beating in her throat. In all of her excitement, she had completely skipped lunch, and the sky outside the windows had turned grey with approaching dusk.

++++++++++++++++

Peter shut down the screen, signing out and standing to his feet – he needed to get back to Hazel, though her intensity at playing Trip would likely keep her busy for at least a couple of hours.

After several frustrating excursions into the Trifecta, Peter had finally encountered the person who had used his identifier. He had even managed to make a connection with the player, and the unidentified character had expressed interest in an alliance. Unfortunately, Peter had programmed his own avatar to change once inside the Trifecta – a precaution to obscure his identity inside. As a result, the identity of the person who had stolen Pete’s entry was similarly obscured, and since the person wasn’t Wired, Peter had little access to find him.

No doubt, his claim of being Wire-free would mitigate some distrust. He pulled up the Stream to search for ExDominus and weed out the identity of the thief, but an incoming link interrupted his plans.

“Talk to me, Chad.”

“You know how you set me on that agent, Martins?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, he and Hazel have been in communications several times since that night.”

For a moment, Peter saw red, but he forced himself to calm as he logged out of the game. “Are they actually meeting together, or are we talking coincidental meetings? I know he showed up at DeSoto’s at least once when she was there.”

“I have two meetings at DeSoto’s, but I also have a coffeehouse and a restaurant. He’s government, so I haven’t had much luck getting access to more than his location, and even that is delayed by twenty-four hours. I don’t know what they met about.”

Maybe explains why Hazel has been so closed off. He really needed to get back to Hazel before she ran away again – he had made a mistake losing his cool. “I knew he was a problem from the moment I saw him.”

“Do you think it’s safe to take him out?”

Everything in Peter wanted to say yes, but he wouldn’t risk his plan for the sake of jealousy. “Not yet. Hazel may be an idiot to exchange with this guy, but that’s not something I’m going to risk the Deconstruction on.”

“But if that agent has tapped her for intel…”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not what this is about,” Peter interrupted. He had known it that first night, when Hazel had pulled away from Peter and returned to an awkward exchange with the giant of a man. Even after everything Peter had attempted, she had never looked at him that way – the curiosity, the admiration. Compared to Peter, Rel Martins was an infant – both in importance and in intelligence. Most people would have understood that fact, but apparently, Hazel had known Peter too long and had seen him in his moments of weakness.

Not yet, but soon, that man would need to be taken out of the picture one way or another. “This is a personal thing, Chad, but I’ll manage it for now. After the Deconstruction, Ziyad will have a lot of ways he can fix the problem. Are you set for deployment? You only have about thirty-six hours.”

“At which point you can manage the agent without the oversight.” Chad laughed. “And, yeah. I’m good.”

“Good. Thanks for the info,” Pete offered as he lowered himself into his car and linked off. He was only a few minutes from home, and he needed to get to Hazel as quickly as possible, keep her distracted until everything was done.

By the time Peter made it back to his apartment, he had linked Ziyad and Leo to share the exact timeline for the Deconstruction. They needed to take the final steps to secure their assets and protect their holdings, both tangible and intangible. Even with the Hazel issue, Pete’s adrenaline spiked as he approached the culmination of all his plans. When he entered his room, though, his hackles rose at the sight of Hazel invading his private sanctuary. Realizing her position, however, he eased his fury.

She leaned, fully unaware of the picture she offered, bent over her drawer – she had stayed. After a moment, she stood to her feet, holding up a dress she hadn’t worn in years. With a gasp of surprise, she spun to the unexpected vision of a man.

Peter squinted his eyes suspiciously, but he quickly took in the sight of the dress and grinned, wrapping up his conversation and smirking at the vision before him. He ended the link and made his way to where Hazel stood.

“Planning an evening?” he wondered.

Hazel’s heart sped at the sound of his voice. Until that instant, she hadn’t considered the moment she would face him, so focused on her investigation. She had been an idiot to doubt Rel – to choose Peter. It had been her own laziness that sent her back to the familiar when faced with the insecurity of the unfamiliar. Certainly, she had not used her rational mind to make the decision.

“Not really planning,” she hedged, reining in her concerns lest she betray herself. “I had just forgotten about this dress. It used to be one of my favorites.”

At first glance, the black dress seemed demure, but a series of cutouts created a much more complicated and intriguing product than the just-below-knee length and high collar implied. One entire arm was laid bare from shoulder to wrist by imprecise slices along the length of fabric. On the same side, the skirt had several slits from hem to a few inches above the knee, and the slightest slice of a blade had created three small slits right at the waistline. On the opposite neckline, the turtleneck collar cut nearly half-way across her neck and exposed her collarbone to the edge of the shoulder.

Hazel had actually loved the knit dress. It conveyed so much power and attitude and femininity, and younger Hazel had matched the dress expressly.

Current Hazel? Current Hazel needed a biohazard suit under a parka, because instead of living life on the edge like she had expected to, now she just lived life on edge.

When Peter eased into the space before her and grabbed her hands that held the dress, she just let him. Young Hazel’s shade screamed at her to get away, but Current Hazel shut her ears and stared into Peter’s face with no conviction.

“Put it on,” he commanded.

“I’m sorry?”

“Put the dress on. I remember that dress. It’s part of why we ended up together.”

“Seriously?” Hazel managed a disbelieving smile.

“That night at the bar. Put it on. We’ll go out, and I’ll tell you all about it.”

Did he look nostalgic? Hazel didn’t know how to process, through the worries that the names had produced and the conversation with Rel, whether Peter held the capacity to feel nostalgia. The ache in her chest believed he could.

As she processed his words, a new sensation replaced both her anxiety and her regret – Peter wanted to take her out. They had not been seen in public together since he had unveiled the Bridge, and she had assumed that he didn’t want anyone to link her to him for some reason – whether selfish or selfless, she hadn’t guessed.

Well, she would go, if for no other reason than to get out of the prison of his house. When he didn’t leave the room, she shuffled to the bathroom and shut the door, seating herself on the little upholstered bench that rested before the mirror. Everything in her was buzzing, with nerves, with anticipation, and with anxiety. Pulling out her handheld, she arrested her hand’s motion. Had she decided to trust Rel?

She thought about sending the images to Vee instead but couldn’t find the link. When Pete banged on the door, she just linked them to Rel before she lost the opportunity. She prayed it wouldn’t cost her later.

Once the dress was on, she turned to examine herself in the full-length mirror. She had a decidedly curvier figure than she had at seventeen when she had bought the dress, and the stretch of the fabric meant that the slits at her waist opened more than she remembered. In an earlier life, she would have felt sexy as hell.

When she stepped out the door, Peter’s expression confirmed her impression.

“Wow, Hazel. You’ve changed.” As if she were an object on display, he approached her, trailing his hand around her waist as he made the circle to view her. Shivers flushed across her skin when his fingers brushed over the sensitive skin bared on her hip, and she forced herself not to cringe away.. “I knew you weren’t a kid,” he purred, “but I am honestly shocked at the…metamorphosis.”

“Yeah,” she allowed, her tone airy from anxiety, “well. I was kind of stupid back then. Let’s hope the change was more than just physical.”

With a smirk, Peter met her eyes for the first time since seeing her in the dress. “I’m betting you don’t have shoes.”

Hazel forced a smile. He was right, but she had to figure out something since she really wanted to get out of the house..

“Your expression tells me that I guessed correctly, so you’ll be happy to know that I saved the shoes you left at my place as well. The only ones that would remotely go with this dress are…” He strode over to his closet and reached to a high shelf. When he turned, he wore the most entertained look on his face as he held up her black, high-heeled combat boots. “These!” he grinned, and Hazel guffawed despite the stress of the situation.

“I am not seventeen anymore,” she retorted, but Peter covered the distance between them and wrapped his arm around her waist.

“Just wear them, Hazel. It is not too often that people are impressed with my dates, but they will be impressed with you – especially in this.”

“Okay, Peter,” Hazel allowed, taking the boots with resignation. Since almost no one knew her, she guessed she didn’t mind posing as a caricature from his video game if it got her out. She seated herself on the bed and started the arduous process of unlacing the boots. “I can’t imagine what possessed me that I would buy combat boots without zippers.”

She had been concentrating so hard on her boots that the sight of Pete’s shoes directly in front of her on the floor took her by surprise. As he seated himself beside her and started kissing her neck, she ignored him to her best ability.

“I don’t know why you bought them, but I’m glad you did. So much lovelier to watch you unlace and lace them up.”

“Stop!” she shoved him away, and he snickered, though he leaned back on his elbows and quit kissing her. Before the night was through, he would kick Rel Martins thoroughly out of her mind.

“Don’t pretend you don’t like it,” he teased. When he reached up to undo the clip that held her hair, she sighed. “Yeah,” he murmured as her hair fell around her face and brushed across her shoulders. “That works.”

Blessedly, she finished the laces and stood to her feet. “And these have the added advantage that, if I’m forced to spar with you because you won’t take a hint, I can use them as weapons. They must weigh three pounds each.”

“Try it,” he challenged, lunging to his feet and tugging her against him.

“You wish…” It was as if the danger of the situation had brought back Young Hazel with all of her attitude and energy, and even Peter’s disrespect just brushed off her shoulders. “Let’s get out of here.” Please.

“I’m going to make you wear this dress more often,” he insisted, grabbing her by the hand and heaving her through the door. A moment later, they were in the elevator, Peter back to his elevator antics. Instead of nerves, Hazel sensed a challenge in her will, as if she dared him to step over some boundary so she could clock him. Only a couple of times, when their lips met and his intensity slowed, did she forget that she was in danger.

By the time the door opened, Hazel only felt a hint of disdain for herself – she thought maybe she could have been a rather convincing spy if she could ever get over her nerves. She actually managed a grin at the thought, a little giddy at the fact that she was free from the apartment. Lowering herself into his streamlined car seemed as natural as anything she had ever experienced, though part of her recognized the waxen nature of the image. Strangely, she could sense two halves of herself – the terrified, insecure girl, and the determined woman who had to survive the night.

Peter sped through the night, and the only pause in Hazel’s thought lay with Rel. She had counted on his help to get away, but the way she had left him…He had been right, and she had spurned his advice and basically sent him running out the door. The genuine portion of her mind simmered in a vat of regret, but she reined in her thoughts and peered out the window, letting Peter take her hand as the blur of lights sped by.