Floor two of the Erebus was an assault of calculated excess. Every surface was mirrored or gold-tinted, reflecting a version of herself Bri didn’t recognize. Asune claimed a barstool built for a supermodel and ordered drinks like she owned the place, which, for all Bri knew, her family did. Before Bri could protest, Michael materialized with three aggressively cheerful cocktails, each skewered with a pineapple wedge and a tiny umbrella. He slid one toward her, the pink-and-orange gradient sickeningly sweet just to look at.

Michael raised his glass. “To surviving security theater. May your luggage not get lost until at least day two.”

Asune saluted with her own glass. “Or may it get lost forever, if you packed as badly as Bri did.” She shot Bri a sidelong smirk. “Hey.” Bri grumped.

“Pace yourselves,” he said, his tone low and even. “I’d rather not have to explain to the captain why half the VIA delegation needs their stomachs pumped before we’ve even left port.”

He looked at the drinks in their hands, then directly at Bri. His gaze was flat, but not cold—just heavy with intent.

Michael rolled his eyes. “It’s a fruit smoothie with an identity crisis, Ishikawa. They’ll be fine.”

Asune held her glass high, not missing a beat. “Most of us are over eighteen, anyway. Including our girl here.” She shot Bri a glance. “She’s actually a year older than most of the students. She just looks young because of the glasses and the tragic lack of mascara.”

Bri muttered, “I have better things to do with my time,” but took a sip just to prove the point. The drink was, as advertised, more juice than booze, though the sugar hit harder than expected. She felt the chill on her tongue and the afterburn in her chest.

Gabe’s eyes lingered on her a second longer. He seemed to be weighing something, but after a moment, he just shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

Asune drained hers in a single, practiced motion. Bri watched the glass go from full to empty and clocked the move for later. In a social ecosystem like this, speed was armor.

Michael fished the cherry from his own drink, popped it into his mouth, and then leaned closer to Bri. “Pool’s supposed to be off the chain. We could check it out before we have to go do that lifeboat drill.

Asune wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “I’m game. I brought a bathing suit in my backpack just in case.” She looked at Bri. “Did you bring one with you?”

“In my suitcase. Not on me,” said Bri.

Michael grinned. “We don’t need bathing suits right now. Let’s just explore.”

Gabe cut in, voice low. “We’ve got an hour before we depart. We should go.”

Michael made a face, but Bri caught the faint amusement behind it. “See? The fun police knows how to party.”

Gabe ignored him, his focus locked on Bri for a split second. “Be careful tonight,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. Then, louder: “Ready?”

Michael tossed his empty cup into a nearby bin. “Let’s go!”

He leaned down, close enough for only Bri to hear: “If you have a second later, I need to tell you something. Just us.”

He didn’t wait for a response, just moved ahead, shoulders rolling with easy confidence. Asune slipped off her barstool, hair flipping perfectly, and followed.

Bri watched Michael’s back, his words hanging in the air. She glanced at the drink in her hand, then at Gabe, whose gaze was a constant, unnerving weight. There was a question in his eyes she wasn’t ready to answer. Shrugging her leather jacket tighter against the manufactured chill, she followed the others. “Let’s see about this pool,” she muttered.

The walkway to the pool was a pocket of controlled chaos: guests in swimwear and designer hoodies and travel attire, staff gliding through with trays, and the hum of anticipation thickening as the ship prepared for departure. Bri picked her way through the crowd, Michael and Asune flanking her with Gabe trailing a calculated three steps behind. She’d just made peace with the near-lethal sweetness of her drink when the universe introduced a new threat.

Victoria arrived like a storm on silent hover: dyed platinum hair blown out to a commercial-grade shine, sunglasses the size of dinner plates, and a white romper so blinding it almost hurt to look at. She cut through the crowd as if drawn by radar, her gaze flicking over the group, zeroing in on Gabe with a precision that was as flattering as it was terrifying.

“Gabriel!” she called, her voice pitched just above the rumble of conversation, soft enough to seem intimate but loud enough to command attention. She moved with the logic of a missile, every step planned for maximum photogenic effect. In the span of a single blink, she was at his side, sliding her arm around his and pressing her cheek to his shoulder.

“I never see you anymore,” Victoria purred, her voice dropping. “I was starting to think you were avoiding me.”

Gabe didn’t move, but Bri caught the miniscule tightening at the corners of his eyes. “I’ve been busy,” he said, voice all silk and distance. Bri wondered if he didn’t like to be touched.

Victoria clucked her tongue. “Well you have a whole week to make it up to me.” She let her hand drift down Gabe’s arm, lingering just long enough to prove she could. Then, as if noticing the others for the first time, she turned a slow, appraising gaze on Bri.

“Oh. Hi, Brianna,” Victoria said, smiling like the world owed her an apology. “Oh. And Mike.” I didn’t see you there. Are you enjoying your cruise so far?”

Bri fought the urge to step behind Michael. “We haven’t even left yet,” she said, deadpan.

Victoria’s smile sharpened. “Well, you’ll be glad to know the pool’s finally open. You should stop by. I’d hate for you to miss out on all the fun.”

Asune leaned in, voice honeyed and a touch too loud: “We were just on our way.”

Victoria didn’t bother to answer. Instead, she pivoted on her heel, pulling Gabe along in her wake. The movement was so fluid Bri thought for a moment that he’d agreed, but then she saw the way his eyes tracked her, cool and unreadable.

The group made it three more steps before disaster struck.

Victoria stopped abruptly, her arm still looped through Gabe’s, and turned to Bri with a bright, apologetic smile—the kind that arrived a half-second too fast to be real. “Oh, sorry, can I just—” She reached past her, fingers brushing the glass in Bri’s hand as though meaning to set it somewhere safer, and instead tipped it neatly forward. The drink poured itself right onto Bri’s shirt, splattering cold and sticky and red down her front, then landed in a pile of glass shards on the floor. Bri glanced down at herself. Well. At least she was wearing black.

“Oh my god, I’m so so sorry,” Victoria said, her voice so flat it was almost performance art. She turned, concern cranked to eleven, but her eyes flicked down and back with a precise satisfaction. “Here, let me—”

A small, chrome-plated cleanup bot zipped over. Before Bri could do anything the bot dabbed the front of Bri’s shirt with mechanical efficiency, whisked away the glass shards.

Bri stood there, cold and sticky, the silence ringing in her ears. It had happened so fast, so smoothly, it was almost elegant. She felt every gaze lock onto her, a specimen pinned for display. Even Asune’s usual energy was frozen.

Gabe stepped away from Victoria—uncoiling from her grip with a single, deliberate motion—and leaned down in front of Bri. He didn’t ask permission; he just pressed a thick stack of napkins against her hand, folding her fingers around them. His face was close enough for her to see the tiny scar under his left eye, the way his hair fell forward in the light.

“Just blot it,” he said, voice low and oddly gentle.

Bri blinked, the world narrowing to Gabe’s gold eyes and the heat of his palm over hers. She nodded, not trusting her voice. Something sharp twisted in her stomach—mortification, maybe, or just the sting of being the center of attention.

Michael stepped in, breaking the moment with a wry, “Leave it to us to make things interesting.”

Victoria snorted. “She’ll live.” She gave Bri a look of pure condescension, then turned her attention back to Gabe, batting her lashes like nothing had happened.

Bri found her voice, keeping her tone flat. “Thanks for the help, Michael.”

His grin softened, a flicker of something like concern in his eyes. “Of course. We have to stick together, right?”

Bri turned to Asune, whose face was a perfect mask of outrage and solidarity. “I’m leaving. I need to go change,” Bri said, already pulling away from the crowd.

Asune fell in step beside her, already unzipping her bag. “I’ve got at least three shirts in here you can borrow.” “Of course you do.” Bri almost laughed despite everything.

Behind them, Victoria’s voice, now light and amused, was already spinning the incident into a funny anecdote. Bri tuned it out, focusing on the cold seeping into her skin and the thrumming in her temples. It wasn’t just the humiliation; it was the sheer, effortless precision of the attack. Victoria hadn’t just spilled a drink—she’d made a statement. And everyone had watched. Gabe’s strange, quiet intervention replayed in her mind, a moment of warmth that only made the surrounding cold more acute.

Asune squeezed her arm as they rounded the corner. “You handled that like a badass. I’d have decked her.”

Bri let out a shaky breath. “It’s early,” she said, the words feeling thin. “Let’s just get out of here. Where’s your suite?”