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“You already tried that and he said if you get involved in any way someone else will post the picture. I was in the bathroom, remember? Scaring him didn’t work.”

His mouth twists up in a deadly way. “That was me being friendly.”

I shiver despite the heat of the cramped room. “What’s the second option?”

“We get rid of the picture.”

“How?”

“By being smarter than them.”

It’s like he’s set out a puzzle and my mind is desperately trying to sort the pieces. “Only way to get that photo is to know who is in the group associated with the site and then hack into their computers and phones to delete it or destroy the hardware.”

He doesn’t even blink at my words.

“I’m not a computer hacker,” I say. “And I have no clue who he’s working with.”

“You’re not, but I know a few things about computers and you’re smart. Together we can figure this out.”

I fiddle with the corner of the syllabus. “I don’t want to write the papers. If I do it for him, it’s a lie he could hold over me forever—just like the picture.”

I could lose my chance at a scholarship or admission into my colleges of choice for cheating. My skull starts to feel as if it’s collapsing in and I rub my temples as if that could help. I wish this problem would go away. I wish none of this had ever happened.

“Breanna,” he says, then goes quiet. I glance up and he continues, “You won’t write the papers and that picture will be deleted, okay?”

I nod and Razor seems to accept my answer. His eyes dart around my face as if he’s waging an internal war. “It’s going to be hell on you to be seen with me.”

It’s not a question. It’s a statement. A very, very true statement.

“If we’re sharing,” he says, “I’m going to catch hell being around you.”

My eyebrows rise at this. “Because I’m the epitome of trouble?”

He laughs and it’s a glorious sound. One that warms my insides. But then the laugh turns a bit bitter and dies out. “I’ve been warned I could hurt you without meaning to.”

My stomach sinks and my posture deflates along with it. Addison said the Terror have to follow orders or there are consequences. “Have you been told to stay away from me?”

Razor’s expression gives nothing away and in the silence I can hear the whispers of the boys on the other side of the room. I clear my throat and try a different question. “Are you going to get in trouble for hanging out with me?”

“I’m running out of allies. Hanging with you might piss off one of the few I have left.”

It’s not really an answer. A million questions spring to mind about his club and w

ho his allies are and who is warning him away from me and why, but the one single thought that wins out is... “I don’t want you to get in trouble over me.”

Razor offers a crooked smile that I guess is meant to comfort me, but all I see is sadness. “I’ll worry about me so you don’t need to. I hate to ask, but beyond us working together in class, do you have a problem with keeping whatever this is between us a secret?”

He nudges my leg with his own, rekindling the fire that had begun to burn minutes before. “The fewer questions I get from the club about you, the better it will be, and it’ll be easier on you at school the less we’re seen together. Besides, being a secret makes the flirting more fun.”

I should be annoyed at what Razor is saying, at the idea that he doesn’t want to be seen with me in public. Instead, a thrill runs through me, so fast, so strong, that goose bumps form along my arms. A secret. Me and Razor from the Reign of Terror—a secret. There’s something magical in the idea of there being a secret between us. Something exciting about being allowed to explore this newfound friendship without the prying eyes of the rest of the world.

Life just went from awful to incredibly fantastic. “I can absolutely live with that.”

RAZOR

Breanna: Apples. Your turn.

I DON’T KNOW why her answer causes my lips to curve up, but it does. It’s eleven at night. She texted to let me know she wasn’t making much progress on the code. I texted back that she should take a break. Now neither of us seems eager to end the conversation. Our texts took a turn toward random and we’ve been sharing favorite foods. Breanna’s moved us on to fruit.

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