According to Tuesday’s instructions, I spent fourteen straight hours crafting all kinds of golden cards. Then I had to pour out every sweet word I could think of to convince Rafe to register the etched gold under “experimental samples” — which sounded way better than “stuff the captain’s taking to deal with her evil stepfather.”

  After a good night’s sleep snuggled up with my(or Rafe’s) dog, it suddenly hit me: I was going home with a filthy rich boyfriend, on a private jet no less. How could I not bring some gifts?

  Picking something for my mom was easy. Give the stuff I hate to the person who stresses me out the most — perfect match. And as long as the clothes and jewelry were expensive and flashy enough, she’d keep laughing her way right off the cliff’s edge. A pink diamond that size should be more than enough to make her think I’m the most adorable person on Earth.

  But when it came to gifts for a man... I’d honestly never thought about that before. Hoping for inspiration — and mostly just to clear my head — I tossed Otto’s food bowl into the dishwasher and hopped on the light rail to the shopping district.

  I had fifteen grand in cash and another twenty in savings. No idea what kind of gift that could get me.

  ??

  “I can explain.” I said as I fastened the LV collar around Otto’s neck, carefully avoiding Rafe’s are-you-kidding-me stare. “I originally meant it for my stepfather.”

  Rafe held up his wrist and shook the Rolex at me. “And this?”

  “I suddenly realized I’d rather see something pretty on Otto than give it to some guy only because he’s sleeping with my mom. Look at him! Isn’t he adorable?” I lifted Otto’s head and gave it a good rub, then took a dozen pictures from different angles because, honestly, he just kept getting cuter.

  Rafe kept waving the watch at me, the metal links rattling like an accusation.

  “I figured it’d be a better bribe for you,” I sighed, already regretting the whole thing. “I didn’t expect them to actually have one in stock — and it wasn’t even ugly. It felt like a waste to leave it behind. Plus, watching you stand there empty-handed while Otto got all the love seemed... cruel. If you don’t want it, just stick it back in the box. I was gonna give it to Uncle Lu anyway.”

  “Why a Rolex? I thought you didn’t like watches.”

  Rafe snapped the clasp shut — it fit perfectly. Factory default sizing. Total coincidence.

  “Because it’s basically currency. Haven’t you seen those movies where the main character’s always on the run? And when things get desperate, they just take off the watch and trade it for a car or something?” I shoved the packaging to the side and went back to packing Otto’s travel gear, silently vowing to reclaim the watch if Rafe so much as asked one more question.

  By the time I was done organizing the dog’s snacks and toys, Rafe hadn’t said another word. Honestly, it was a relief.

  “You got an hour to spare? I want to show you how this thing works.” I dropped a stack of gold bars onto the couch, denting the cushions. “First up — this completely illegal item.”

  The letters on the gold card were nearly perfect now:

  When held between five fingertips, the card opens a doorway on its opposite side, granting access to its internal space. The door remains open only while this condition is met. Once released or improperly held, the doorway closes immediately.

  I held the card in my left hand, gave it a little shake over the couch, and let fifteen gold cards and ten coins tumble out onto the cushions. Under Rafe’s increasingly stunned gaze, I picked up the coins and pushed them one by one into the card.

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  They sank into the surface like they were dropping into thick, golden syrup — smooth, almost magical. When I let go, the engraved side of the card looked unchanged, but the reverse now showed a pencil-sketch rendering of the coins and cards inside.

  "You’ve seen it yourself—there’s a size limit, sure, but anything that can physically fit through the card's surface will go in. I’ve tested it with rolled-up cash and A4 paper. No problem." I was honestly kind of impressed with myself. "And it's surprisingly durable, too."

  As long as the gold surface is big enough, and you throw on a little camouflage, it’s basically the most convenient smuggling device in the world.

  “I only need one. The other four are yours to do whatever with. These are the ones you’ve already used.” I tossed a stack of heavy gold cards and coins onto Rafe’s lap—each one etched with the words healing and Oblivion, and each weighing a full hundred grams. Nearly broke my wrist just carrying them over.

  Rafe gave me such a strange, unreadable look that I suddenly felt like I was stuffing cash into a stripper’s underwear. I made a mental note to add that experience to my bucket list someday.

  “Wait a second—what the hell is this supposed to be?” Rafe held up two cards, eyes wide like I’d never seen before.

  I could already guess which ones had caught his attention. “Exactly what it says. Break the card, and every human being except the holder has their spine snapped at the third vertebra. Centered on the user.”

  “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Rafe set the card down on the coffee table like it might explode, then jumped up, visibly jittery. “Does this actually work?”

  “It’s the only one I haven’t tested.” I picked one up and, ignoring his shout of protest, slipped it into my wallet. “Figured I’d save it for a last-resort suicide attack. Do whatever you want with it.”

  The vein on Rafe’s forehead twitched. “I should use that thing on you right now!”

  “By that logic, everyone who designs or builds weapons should be dead. Think of it this way—it’s the most environmentally friendly WMD on the planet.” I reached out to pat his head, but he dodged it with a step back.

  “You mad at me? Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?”

  Rafe stared at me—really stared—with a look I couldn’t read. It went on long enough that I started to wonder if time had frozen.

  An uneasy feeling crept in. Hoffman’s Skill suddenly stirred inside me, and in that awful, precarious moment, Rafe and I locked eyes.

  Shit. He thinks I’m going to attack him.

  I opened my mouth—said nothing.

  Because I had thought about it. I hadn’t even realized it, but I had.

  “Sorry.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  The absurd, dreamlike synchronicity of our words left me dazed. I had no idea what was happening anymore. But then Rafe suddenly smiled and knelt to pick up the scattered gold from the couch and floor.

  “Nine o’clock tomorrow morning. You want me to wake you up, or can you handle an alarm?”

  “Uh… Otto usually whacks me in the head with his food bowl at six. As long as I don’t fall back asleep, I’m good.”

  Rafe seemed more unreadable than ever. The unease in my chest kept building, and as it did, I came up with a few more ideas. Better safe than sorry. Time to make plans C, D, and E…