Chapter 6 Exchange
Amelia POV
I deliberately slowed my speech, giving Grace enough time to grasp what I was hinting at. She lunged forward, pressing her hands over my mouth with frantic force. "Shut up!"
Her momentum worked against her as I allowed myself to fall backward onto the floor with feigned surprise and pain. Grace realized her mistake too late. She was standing over me, hands still outstretched from her assault, looking every inch the aggressor while I remained on the ground looking victimized.
I looked around at the circle of students who had gathered to watch our confrontation, making sure my voice carried clearly. "Did everyone see that? I haven't even finished speaking, and she's already attacking me!"
The crowd began shifting their attention between Grace and me.
But I wasn't finished with her yet. I lowered my voice just enough that Grace had to lean in to hear me. "Would you like me to tell your new friends about your real parentage, Grace? Because I have DNA results."
The color drained completely from her face. "Amelia, please—"
"Then tell them you made up those stories about me. Now."
"Okay!" she said loudly, then caught herself as more people turned to stare. She took a shaky breath and addressed the crowd with forced brightness.
"I owe everyone here an apology. Everything I said about Amelia tonight was not true." Her voice wavered slightly. "I... I tried to recruit her for the sorority and she rejected me, so I got vindictive. I made up those horrible stories about mental institutions and violence."
I picked myself up from the floor. "That's right. I don't even know her. Why would she make up such vicious lies about me?"
Grace shot me a look of pure bewilderment. I could see her struggling to understand why I wasn't claiming my rightful place. But honestly, who would want to be associated with them?
Claire, who had been watching this entire exchange with fascination, suddenly stepped forward, her politician's instincts kicking in.
"Grace, I hope you understand how serious false accusations can be," she announced to the crowd. "Especially ones that could damage someone's reputation and academic future."
The crowd began murmuring in agreement. Grace's carefully constructed narrative collapsed completely.
"I... I gotta go," Grace mumbled, pushing through the crowd toward the exit. Several of her followers went with her, but notably fewer than had arrived with her.
The guy who had confronted me earlier approached hesitantly. "Hey, I'm really sorry about what I said before."
"Apology accepted," I said graciously, already losing interest in him.
Others began coming over to introduce themselves, suddenly eager to be associated with the victim rather than the aggressor. It was fascinating how quickly social dynamics could shift.
My phone buzzed. A text from the buyer: [At the location. Where are you?]
I glanced at the time and felt a jolt of adrenaline. 9:57 PM. I'd been so focused on exposing Grace that I'd nearly forgotten about the drug exchange.
"Claire, can you hold down the fort here? Make sure Grace doesn't try to spin this if she comes back."
"Of course. Everything okay?"
"Just need some air."
I slipped out of the party and jogged across campus toward the designated meeting point.
A black sedan was parked exactly where it should be, license plate matching the numbers Auditor had given me. I pulled open the door and slid inside.
The interior was configured with two sets of seats facing each other. A man sat across from me, and his expression of surprise when he saw me was almost comical.
"You're the delivery person?" he asked incredulously.
I gestured to my party dress. "Just got out of a freshman orientation event. I make some extra cash doing courier work." I made my voice sound young and naive. "This is just pharmaceuticals, right? Not anything illegal?"
The man visibly relaxed. "No, nothing illegal. Just medication."
"Good, because if it is, I'm calling the police. My parents would kill me if I got in trouble."
"Everything's legitimate," he assured me. "Can I have the package now?"
I studied his face carefully. Mid-twenties, clean-shaven, expensive suit. Government agent written all over him, despite the civilian clothes.
"Are you the actual buyer? Because my contact was very specific about only dealing with the end user."
"I'm the buyer."
He might be the buyer, but he certainly wasn't the end user. The guy who actually needed the medication was definitely unable to stand right now. This man could be my pathway to everything I needed to investigate.
I held up my phone and snapped his picture before he could react.
"What the hell are you doing?"
"Covering my ass," I said meaningfully. "If my boss finds out I handed over the medication to the wrong person, I'm fired. This way I can prove I delivered it to someone."
He looked annoyed but seemed to accept the logic. "Fine. You have your photo. Now, can we complete this transaction?"
"I'll also need your contact information. In case there are any questions later."
With obvious reluctance, he pulled out a business card and handed it to me. As I reached for it, I gripped it firmly and pulled quickly, letting the sharp edge slice across his fingers as it came free. The card now bore a neat line of blood.
"Shit," he hissed, examining the cut.
"Oh my god, I'm so sorry! Are you okay?"
"I'll be fine. Do you want me to get you a new card?"
"No, don't worry about it," I said quickly, clutching the bloodstained card. "Let's just finish this."
I finally reached into my purse and pulled out the small sealed container. He took the package and examined it briefly. "We're done here."
"Great. Have a nice night!" I chirped, stepping out of the car with my best college freshman smile.
I watched the sedan disappear, then allowed my expression to shift back to its normal coldness.
Right then, a car parked at the street corner slowly started up and pulled to a stop in front of me. The window rolled down, revealing Alex's face..
"Dancer," he said as I settled into the passenger seat. "Mission accomplished?"
"Almost." I held up the bloodstained business card. "I need an evidence bag for this. It has his fingerprints and DNA."
Alex rummaged in his glove compartment for a plastic bag. "Jesus, you're thorough."
While he sealed the card, I memorized the phone number and saved it in my phone.
"I've also got a clear photo of his face," I said, forwarding it to Alex. "Can you run it through your databases? "
"That's going to cost extra..."
I patted my dress pockets and remembered I was wearing Claire's clothes. "I'll pay you back. I was at a college party, didn't bring any coin."
Alex stared at me. "Are you serious about this whole student thing?"
"The cover is perfect," I said, opening the car door. "Look how easily he bought it. Nobody suspects a college freshman of being an international assassin."
"Fair point. I'll have the identification ready by tomorrow."
I walked back toward the dorm, where Claire was waiting in our room. "Did Grace come back?"
"No, she's probably licking her wounds somewhere." Claire grinned. "That was brilliant. The way you turned it around on her."
"She made it easy." I kicked off my borrowed shoes. "What's on the agenda for tomorrow?"
"Freshman training camp starts. It's mandatory—tied to our PE credits. First three days are on campus, then we go to some lake resort in the mountains for four days."
I perked up. Physical training was always interesting. "What kind of activities?"
"Tomorrow's pretty light. There's an exhibition football game that we're supposed to watch."
The next morning found us in the university's main stadium. Grace appeared on the field in her role as head cheerleader, leading an elaborate routine during halftime. But what caught my attention was her interaction with one of the football players afterward—Damien, whom I'd easily disabled at the party entrance last night.
Grace's animated gestures suggested she was giving him some kind of instructions, and his eyes kept darting toward my section of the bleachers.
"Hey," I nudged the girl next to me. "What's going on between that guy and the head cheerleader?"
"Oh, that's Damien, our starting QB. He's been chasing after Grace forever, but she keeps stringing him along."
A lovesick football player taking orders from Grace. She was planning something again.
My phone buzzed with a message from Alex. I opened it discreetly: [ID confirmed: Sebastian Reynolds, FSOD special agent.]
Just like I suspected, the FSOD was definitely behind the theft. And the stolen drive was probably sitting in some secure facility in Everdark City right now.
I was still processing this when I heard a sharp whistle cut through the air, followed by screams around me.
I looked up just in time to see a football spiraling directly toward my head.