The lab reeks of rust and chemicals. The kind of place men build when they’ve long forgotten what humanity looks like. My boots crunch over shattered glass, the League at my back—Clark, Diana, Jordan. We’ve fought our way through waves of mercenaries, but something gnaws at me, something beyond the mission.

Then I see it.

A steel door half-hidden in shadow. Reinforced. Locked from the outside. I don’t know why I stop. Instinct, maybe. Or something deeper. My gauntlet brushes against the scanner, and through a slit in the metal, I see her.

She’s slumped against the ground, chains digging into raw wrists, tubes stabbing into her veins, her body trembling. Barely holding on. But her eyes—God, her eyes. Piercing blue, alive with pain and fury. She doesn’t beg. She doesn’t plead. She just looks at me like she already knows I’ll walk away.

No.

I slam my fist into the door, shattering the lock. The League bursts in beside me, but all I see is her.

Machines hiss, alarms scream. She flinches but doesn’t cry out. She’s been through hell, and I recognize it—because I’ve lived there too.

Clark rips the chains. Diana cuts the tubing. But it’s me who kneels beside her, careful not to touch too quickly. Her breath is shallow. She’s burning up. They’ve tested her, pushed her to the edge.

“Stay with me,” I mutter, voice low, harsher than I intend.

Her lips part, dry, broken. “Why… why save me?”

Because I see myself in you.

But I don’t say that. I just lift her, cradling her trembling form like she weighs nothing. She doesn’t know it yet, but she’s not alone anymore.

Bloodbending. That’s what they tortured her for. I’ve seen weapons. I’ve seen monsters. But she’s neither. She’s human. And I know, as surely as I know my own name, that they’ll come for her again.

Only this time, they’ll have to go through me.