I swerve my car hard to the left, missing a white Tesla by inches. The driver lays on the horn, but I don't care.

It's the day after Katya coming to my room and Mateo's dripping wet admission, him telling me he's not so sure about Xander. All of this should give me hope, but I don't have time to think about it because I'm late.

The clock on my dashboard says 2:47 PM. I told Harley I'd be there at 2:30. My phone sits in the cupholder, screen dark, but I can still see Dr. Santos's text from this morning burning behind my eyelids.

Dr. Santos: We need to talk.

The tone was so dry and unreadable that I put it in a compartment in the back of my brain. I need to get this content for Luxecaster done before I can even think about dealing with her. Not to mention I only have two days before the blackmailer releases the video and implodes my entire life.

I merge onto Wilshire Boulevard, weaving through traffic. My hands are slick on the steering wheel.

I made the mistake of checking the comments on my old TalkThat videos this morning. That was a big mistake.

@magicboyswag: where tf is press??? it's been THREE MONTHS

@elementalqueen: he's done. never coming back lol

@pressgregorstan: i miss him sm but like... what did he DO

@valecollegetea: heard his career is OVER

The words loop like a song I can't get out of my head. Heard his career is over.

I grip the steering wheel tighter and press the gas.

A Mercedes honks as I cut in front of it. I don't slow down. I can't slow down, because then I'd have to think. And if I think, I'll remember Katya's face last night and her wide, terrified eyes. Be careful with this family. They're dangerous.

Tomorrow night at the reservoir off Mulholland, she'll tell me everything. If I can survive Dr. Santos until then.

I pull into the parking lot at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art and kill the engine. Urban Light sprawls in front of me--rows and rows of restored vintage streetlamps, all different heights and styles, standing like a forest of light against the blue sky. It's one of the most Instagrammed spots in LA. Of course Harley picked it for our shoot today.

I grab my phone and check the time. 2:52 PM. 22 minutes late!

I get out of the car and scan the installation. Harley stands near the center, her phone out, probably already filming B-roll. And next to her, leaning against one of the lamp posts with his drumsticks sticking out of his back pocket--Bayer.

I completely forgot he was coming. I stifle a groan and walk toward them, my Luxecaster bomber jacket feeling too tight across my shoulders.

Bayer sees me first and a grin cracks his face. "Look who finally showed up. Thought you stood us up, Gregor."

"Bayer," I say flatly.

"Press!" Harley turns, her face lighting up. She's wearing a cropped Luxecaster hoodie and high-waisted jeans, her hair pulled back in a sleek ponytail. "You're here! I was starting to get worried."

"Sorry," I mutter. "Traffic."

Bayer snorts. "Traffic. Right."

I turn to him, my hands curling into fists. "You got something to say?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Harley steps between us, her hands up. "Hey. Is everything okay?"

I take a breath. The enchanted tea Katya gave me last night has worn off. My nerves feel raw and exposed, like someone peeled back my skin.

"Dr. Santos texted me this morning," I say, my voice tight. "She said we need to talk."

Bayer stiffens next to Harley. It's subtle, but I catch it. The way his shoulders go rigid. The way his fingers twitch toward his drumsticks.

I turn on him. "Tell me what you know."

"What?"

"You were at that party." I step closer. My voice is shaking now. "Who's fucking with me? Who's blackmailing me?"

Bayer holds his hands up, stepping back. "Dude, I don't know anything."

"Bullshit."

"I'm serious!" He looks genuinely startled. "I don't know who's doing this to you."

"Then tell me what you do know."

Bayer glances at Harley. She nods at him, encouraging him to say more.

He sighs and runs his fingers through his floppy hair. "Look, all I know is...Connelly shouldn't be trusted. You know what she did to me last year. She lied about me using Voicecraft to coerce her, and she'll lie about this too."

"I already considered Connelly," I snap. "But she told me Emma has a problem with me and wants me gone. So what about her?"

"Emma does want you gone, dude," Bayer says, his mouth twitching.

My stomach drops and Harley and I both say, "What" at the same time.

"But it's not for the reasons you think," Bayer says quickly. "And she would never blackmail you. She'd just ShadowWeave your ass." He laughs, like it's all a joke. But I don't join him.

"What did I ever do to Emma?" I ask.

"She thinks you heard something you shouldn't have," Bayer says, shrugging. He holds his hand up to block the setting sun from blinding his eyes. "That's what Connelly told me, at least."

"Heard what?"

"I don't know, man. I don't think it's my place to say."

"Press," Harley cuts in, her voice urgent. "We need to film this video. Like, now. Luxecaster's already pissed you haven't posted in three months. If we don't give them something today, they're dropping you."

"I don't care about Luxecaster right now--"

"You should care," Harley says. "It's one of your last brand deals."

"I need to know what Emma--"

My phone rings, and I pull it out of my pocket. The screen lights up with the last name I want to see right now.

Dr. Santos

I take a deep breath. "I have to take this," I tell them.

Harley frowns. "Press--"

But I turn my back to her and Bayer, ignoring the roar of my heartbeat in my ears. I answer, "Hello?"

"Preston." Dr. Santos's voice is crisp and cool, like she's calling about a dentist appointment. "You need to come back to the estate. Now."

"I'm in the middle of something--"

"I told you we needed to talk. Why haven't I heard back from you?"

My throat feels like it's closing up "I was going to call you after--"

"Come here. Now."

The line goes dead without giving me a chance to say anything further. I stare at my phone while my hands shake.

Harley touches my arm. "Press? What's wrong?"

"I have to go," I say, my voice hollow. "I'm sorry. I have to go right now or she's going to lock me up back at Halcyon."

"What?" Harley's eyes go wide. "Press, you can't just--"

But I'm already walking back to my car.

✨✨✨

The whole drive back to the estate, my stomach is in knots. I run through every possible scenario. Maybe she found out about the blackmail. Or she knows I went to Allegra's house. Ultimately I assume this is about Mateo, the way he was gripping my wrist yesterday. Maybe she's finally done pretending to help me.

When I pull through the gates, I notice Mateo's car isn't in the driveway. Just Dr. Santos's sleek black Audi.

She's standing on the front steps, arms folded across her chest. She's wearing a cream-colored blazer and dark slacks, her hair pulled back in a tight bun. She looks like she's about to administer punishment with that severe expression cutting across her face.

I get out of the car and walk toward her, my legs feeling like they're made of lead.

"I thought I told you," she says, her voice cold and sharp, "no magic."

I stop in my tracks. "What are you talking about?"

"I know you drank enchanted tea yesterday."

My breath catches.

"And I know," she continues, her eyes narrowing, "that you asked Katya to make you some."

"No, I didn't," I say quickly. "She came to my room and said--"

"Katya only does what she's told." Dr. Santos steps down from the porch, closing the distance between us. "You violated the terms of your supervision. You are not allowed to be in contact with any magic without my express permission."

"That's insane--"

"Those are the Consortium's rules. Not mine."

"But you're not--"

"I have to report this to Halcyon." Dr. Santos pulls her phone from her blazer pocket and starts punching in numbers. "Your time is up, Press. You're out of here."

The world tilts and my knees buckle. This isn't fair, but I can't get Dr. Santos to listen to me. Why would Katya lie to Dr. Santos? Or did Katya lie to me?

"You can't," I say, my voice breaking. "I didn't do anything wrong--"

"You broke the rules," she says to me. Then she turns her attention to the person on the phone. "This is Dr. Alana Santos, Arcanist of Caldera Heights. I need to report a magical infraction."

"Dr. Santos!" I wave my arms in front of her face, but it's like she can't, or won't, see me.

She turns her back and reports to some person high up in the Consortium. I stand there and shove my hand into my pockets, because I don't know what else to do.

"Pack your things," she says, turning to hiss at me. "The Consortium will send someone to collect you within the hour."

She turns and walks back into the house, leaving me standing alone in the driveway, my heart pounding so hard I think it might explode.

Two days until the blackmailer releases the video. One hour until I'm sent back to Halcyon.

And no one left to trust.