Chapter 17: Shabnam's Trade
The maintenance tunnels beneath King's Dominion smelled like rust and secrets.
Marcus had learned about them from Shabnam's intelligence reports—service corridors that connected different sections of the school, used by staff but forgotten by most students. The perfect place for conversations that needed to stay private.
He found Shabnam waiting at the junction of two tunnels, hunched in his usual posture but with eyes that gleamed sharper than his act suggested.
"You came alone," Shabnam said. Not a question.
"You asked me to."
"I did." Shabnam reached into his jacket and pulled out a folded paper. "This is what you wanted."
Marcus didn't reach for it immediately. "What's the price?"
"Protection." Shabnam's nervous facade cracked slightly, showing something harder underneath. "During Finals. I know I'm not on anyone's target list—I'm too pathetic to be worth the effort—but accidents happen. I want someone watching my back."
He's not on the list, Marcus knew. But he doesn't know that. And his paranoia is useful.
"Done. You have my protection during Finals." Marcus held out his hand. "The list."
Shabnam passed over the paper. His fingers trembled—performance or genuine stress, hard to tell. "I had to go through Lin's secretary. She's got a gambling problem. Cost me three weeks of poker winnings."
Marcus unfolded the paper under the weak tunnel light.
Three names.
LEX THOMPSON — assigned to Viktor (Dixie Mob) ARTURO TORRES — assigned to Kendal (Preps) PETRA VORONOVA — assigned to [REDACTED]
His stomach turned.
Lex, he'd expected. The Dixie Mob had been gunning for Rats since Viktor's humiliation, and Lex was an obvious target—capable enough to be worth killing, not connected enough to cause political problems.
Torres, he'd barely spoken to. Nervous kid, thick accent, wrote letters home that would never be answered. Canon fodder in the original story. Dead in the first wave of Finals.
But Petra.
Why Petra?
She wasn't connected to any faction politics. She didn't have family enemies that Marcus knew of. Her assignment was redacted—meaning someone with influence wanted her dead and didn't want anyone knowing who'd ordered it.
"The redaction," Marcus said. "Can you find out who?"
"I tried." Shabnam's expression flickered. "Whatever's behind that black bar, it's above my access level. Someone high up wants that name hidden."
Marcus folded the paper carefully. Three names. Three Rats who were supposed to die in the next two weeks.
I can probably save two, he calculated. Saving all three means exposing that I had advance warning. Exposing that means questions I can't answer.
He looked at Torres's name again. A kid he'd exchanged maybe ten words with since arriving. Someone who would die unknown and unmourned if Marcus didn't intervene.
No.
Not this time.
"You did good work," Marcus said. "Keep your ears open for anything else. And stay close to the Rat alliance during Finals—it's your best chance."
"Will you—" Shabnam caught himself. Started again. "Do you think we can actually save them?"
It was the first time Marcus had heard genuine concern in Shabnam's voice. Underneath all the calculation, underneath the performance of weakness, something human was still there. Something that didn't want to watch classmates die.
"I'm going to try," Marcus said. "That's all I can promise."
He memorized the names one more time—Lex, Torres, Petra—then struck a match and held it to the paper. The list burned quickly, curling into ash that scattered in the tunnel drafts.
The evidence was gone.
The weight of it remained.