Chapter 6

The apartment was small, tucked into the upper floors of a blocky, gray building that had seen better days. The door creaked as Svetlana Chernova let them in, eyeing Sophie and Zora with a mistrust that felt like a second lock. She was in her late thirties, with sharp cheekbones and the restless energy of someone who hadn’t slept well in weeks. Sophie and Zora had identified Svetlana as a technician who used to work for Igor Kornilov but was let go for reasons unknown.

“You shouldn’t have come here,” she said flatly, leading them into a cramped living room. “If Igor knows—” She cut herself off, pressing her lips tight.

“We’re not here to cause trouble,” Sophie said, calm but firm. “We just want to understand what he’s working on. We know you were part of it once.”

Svetlana gave a short, bitter laugh. “Part of it. That’s one way to put it.” She turned her back, pacing toward the window before wheeling on them. “Do you have any idea what you’re asking me to risk?”

“No,” Zora admitted, folding her arms, “but from the look on your face, it’s something worth hearing. Maybe you’d like the world to know what kind of man Igor really is.”

That caught. Resentment cracked through Svetlana’s hesitation like light through storm clouds. She sank into a chair, rubbing her hands together before she spoke.

“He calls it a breakthrough. A revolution in behavioral chemistry. Pheromones—but not natural ones. Targeted.” She spat the word out like it burned her tongue. “He uses the DNA profiles of two people, designs the compound so that one becomes chemically ... irresistible ... to the other.”

Sophie’s pulse quickened. She leaned forward. “Wait. You’re saying—he can make someone fall in love with a specific person?”

“Yes,” Svetlana snapped, eyes flashing. “It is not true love. It is manipulation. Biological coercion. But to the one exposed, it feels real. Overwhelming. They think they want it.”

Zora whistled low. “That’s not science, that’s—hell, that’s weaponized romance.”

Svetlana looked pained. “When I realized the implications, I told him it was dangerous. That it could be used to exploit, to control. He called me naive. And the next day, I was gone. Out. Finished.”

For a moment, the room was very still, the enormity of her words hanging between them.

Sophie and Zora traded a glance—the same wordless electricity that had passed between them with Jennix, but now sharp, undeniable.

If Svetlana was telling the truth, then this explained the strangeness, the unnatural bonds, the exhaustion, the glazed looks.

It was bigger than they’d imagined.

The silence that followed Svetlana’s confession pressed heavy against the walls of her apartment. Sophie finally broke it, speaking to Zora, her voice low but firm.

“Jennix,” she said. “And the guys. That explains it, doesn’t it? The sudden, irrational pull, the way they can’t even explain it themselves. They’ve been targeted.”

Zora leaned back, letting out a low breath. “Like moths to a Barbie-shaped flame. Only it isn’t Jennix’s doing—it’s Igor’s chemistry playing matchmaker.” She shook her head, half in disbelief. “That’s why she couldn’t explain it, either. She’s as much a victim as they are. But the question is ... why them?”

Sophie’s eyes darkened, thinking further. “And Natalia. The way she acts with Jarl—over-the-top, clingy, not the same woman Kate knows. What if she’s under the same influence?”

Zora frowned. “Which would mean Jarl’s got himself a personal supply of the good stuff. Enough to keep her wrapped around his finger.”

They both looked back at Svetlana, who had been listening with a grim sort of satisfaction, as if finally someone else understood the danger. Sophie leaned forward.

“One more question. Do you know anything about Jarl Brantley?”

The name alone seemed to chill the room. Svetlana shuddered visibly, pulling her arms tight around herself.

“Yes,” she whispered. “I know him. Jarl and Igor ... they are friends. Associates. Business, pleasure—who can tell with men like them? But they are connected. Strongly connected.” That was all she would say, but it was enough.

When they stepped out of the cramped apartment into the cool air of the corridor, both women stopped in their tracks.

“This is it,” Zora murmured. “This is the thread. Igor’s pheromones. Jarl’s connections. The unnatural behavior we’ve seen up close.”

Sophie nodded, her jaw set. “We just have to prove it. And we’re not letting Verity bury this.”

The two of them walked on in silence, the enormity of what they’d learned vibrating between them like a live wire.

The hyperloop whisked them back toward the hotel, the glow of the city flashing past the pod windows in rhythmic streaks. Neither Zora nor Sophie spoke for a long while, both of them leaning against their seats, the conversation with Svetlana replaying like a broken reel in their minds. Finally, Zora shifted, turned toward Sophie, and said what they were both thinking.

“We need more than talk,” Zora said flatly. “Verity will laugh us out of the room if all we have is Svetlana’s resentment and a spooky science story.”

Sophie nodded, lips pressed tight. “We need evidence. Something we can hold in our hands.”

Zora tilted her head, a glint in her eyes. “You’re thinking samples, right? From Jennix, or one of the guys.”

“Exactly. We could test for traces. If we get something consistent with Igor’s pheromones, it ties this whole thing together.”

Zora grinned. “Or—hear me out—we go shopping in Jarl’s medicine cabinet. You know he’s not walking around empty-handed. Man like that has to keep his magic dust nearby.”

Sophie shot her a look. “That would be breaking and entering.”

“That would be finding answers,” Zora countered, stretching her long legs out in front of her. “Come on, partner, don’t tell me you’ve never done something a little questionable for the greater good.”

Sophie exhaled, half-annoyed, half-amused. “Teaming up with you has never been good for my moral compass.”

Zora smirked. “Bad influence, remember? You’re lucky I’m cute enough to get away with it.”

For the first time that day, Sophie let out a small laugh, though she shook her head at the same time. “Alright. If that’s what it takes. But we do this carefully. One mistake and Verity will have us shipped back to Denver before we can blink.”

“Carefully,” Zora agreed, though her grin didn’t dim in the slightest. “So. Tonight we make a plan. Tomorrow—” she leaned back in her seat, tapping her fingers on the armrest like a drumroll “—we pay a little visit to Mr. Brantley’s secret stash.”

Sophie leaned her head against the glass, the faintest smile on her face. Bad influence, she thought. Maybe. But maybe that’s exactly what she needed.

The hotel was quieter than usual when Zora and Sophie slipped out that night, dressed in dark coats, hair tied back. Zora carried the swagger of someone who’d done this before. Sophie carried the tension of someone who knew they were crossing a line but couldn’t see another way.

They’d trailed Jarl earlier in the evening, noting which tower he returned to. They’d seen him leave, acting like he wouldn’t be back for a while. Now, standing in the glossy atrium of the luxury high-rise, Zora looked around with exaggerated calm. “Rich people never think anyone’s going to rob them,” she whispered. “Makes it almost too easy.”

Sophie muttered back, “This is insane. If someone sees us—”