My Scumbag System

As the group began to disperse, murmuring among themselves about the upcoming joint operation, Carmen sidled back over to me. The playful curve of her lips flattened into a serious line.

"He's testing you, you know," she said quietly, nodding toward Braxton's retreating back. "He doesn't give leadership responsibilities to first-years. Ever. Not even to recommendation students."

"And why is he making an exception for me?" I asked, genuinely curious. Braxton was clearly more complicated than his disheveled appearance suggested.

Carmen's smile flickered with mischief, a flash of white teeth against her tan skin. "Maybe he sees something in you that reminds him of himself. Or maybe..." She leaned in close enough that I could smell the faint whiskey on her breath, "maybe he's setting you up to fail spectacularly. Either way, I'll be front row with popcorn for the show."

"Your confidence is overwhelming. I'm positively drowning in your faith, Carmen-sensei."

"Listen, kid," she said, her playful demeanor evaporating like water on hot steel. Her grip on my arm tightened with unexpected force, fingers digging in. "The Argent Sentinels aren't just another guild. They're the pristine, polished face of this entire academy. Perfect little soldiers following perfect little orders without question. Everything about them is buffed to a blinding shine. And they despise—and I mean viscerally loathe—the Onyx Hounds with a hatred that borders on zealotry."

"Why?" I asked, though my mind was already assembling the puzzle pieces.

"Because we embody everything they're indoctrinated to reject. Chaos. Unpredictability. Raw, unrefined potential over rehearsed perfection. Individual brilliance instead of synchronized teamwork." She swept her arm across the shabby, worn-down living room with its mismatched furniture. "We're living proof their precious system is flawed, that sometimes the garbage heap produces diamonds they overlooked, gems they were too blind or arrogant to see."

She glanced around, making sure no one else was listening, her voice dropping even lower. "And now we've got most of the top individual talent from this year's class—you, Isabelle, the twins. That's unprecedented. It's a slap in the face to their entire worldview. It suggests their selection criteria might be flawed."

I considered this new information, turning it over in my mind like a puzzle piece finding its place. "So they'll be looking to humiliate us. To prove we don't belong."

"They'll be looking to destroy us," Carmen corrected, her expression grim. "To erase the anomaly. And Professor Petrova, their faculty sponsor? She'll be helping them do it. She's not just a teacher; she's the living embodiment of their philosophy. Perfection above all. No mercy for the flawed."

Interesting. The politics of this place ran deeper than I'd initially assumed. Rival philosophies playing out through teenage proxies. "Thanks for the warning."

She patted my shoulder, her usual playful demeanor returning like a mask sliding back into place. "Don't mention it, puppy. Just try not to bleed on my shoes again. These are designer, and blood is a bitch to get out." With a wink that managed to be both friendly and suggestive, she sauntered away, intercepting Braxton at the door and engaging him in a conversation that involved a lot of casual touching.

As she walked away, I felt Natalia's presence at my side, her shoulder barely brushing against mine in a touch that could be dismissed as accidental but wasn't.

"What did she want? Besides the obvious flirting."

"Just filling me in on some faculty politics," I answered honestly, keeping my voice low. "Apparently, there's bad blood between our instructors. Deeper than I initially thought."

Natalia nodded, her expression thoughtful, violet eyes tracking Carmen across the room. "The Sentinels are going to be a problem. Julian Valerius is a recommendation student with connections to three of the top guilds. Where he goes, they follow. He's also had it out for me since we were children."

"Or where she goes, they follow," I corrected, shifting our focus to the more valuable target. "Don't forget Celeste has more pull being Seraphina's little sister. Julian might be the hand, but Celeste is the sword they all rally behind."

Her lips curved in a small, satisfied smile, the kind that didn't reach her eyes but revealed the calculating mind behind them. "Two weeks to prepare. What's your plan? I assume you already have one forming."

I glanced around the room, taking in my scattered, mismatched team. Some were already heading to their rooms, others lingering to continue discussions about the Sentinels. "First, I need to understand what we're working with. Every strength, every weakness, every pressure point." I lowered my voice further. "Then we build something they won't expect. Something they can't counter because it doesn't follow their rulebook."

"And the leadership role Braxton just dropped in your lap? You realize he's set you up to take the fall if this goes wrong."

I shrugged, feeling the familiar weight of manipulation settling comfortably on my shoulders. "Just another opportunity. One I intend to exploit fully. Every eye on me means another chance to bend them to my will."

Natalia raised an eyebrow, amusement dancing in her eyes. "You do realize half the room is waiting for you to fail? Raphael especially looks ready to celebrate your downfall."

"We know better, don't we?" I matched her smile with one of my own, the predator in me recognizing the predator in her. "Besides, their expectations are the perfect cover. No one ever guards against the dog they expect to stay on its leash."

Her fingers briefly intertwined with mine, hidden from view by our bodies, a secret pact sealed in plain sight. "Let them underestimate you. It's always worked in our favor before."

I squeezed her hand once before releasing it, already mapping out the pieces on my new game board. The Argent Sentinels thought they were coming to put us in our place. They had no idea they were walking straight into the jaws of something far more dangerous than a pack of misfit hounds.

They were walking into my web.