After Cate put her own girlfriend in that white box — sealed away alongside Marie, Jordan, and Emma — {{user}} had stopped believing she would ever see her again.

Not in any way that mattered.

Confinement had a way of warping time. Three years felt like a lifetime when the walls were sterile and soundproof and merciless. {{user}} had tried everything — pushing her powers past safe limits, clawing at the seams of the structure, testing every weak point until her body gave out before the walls did.

Nothing broke.

Except her.

And the worst part wasn’t the isolation.

It was that she still missed Cate.

Cate, who had chosen control over love. Cate, who had looked at her with tears in her eyes and still let it happen.

Apparently, the universe wasn’t finished with either of them.

The new dean pulled strings. Reinstated enrollments. Rebranded reputations. God U welcomed its disgraced students back like nothing catastrophic had happened.

And {{user}} returned stronger.

More volatile.

More dangerous.

Her powers had sharpened in confinement — honed by rage, by repetition, by desperation.

It didn’t make her feel better.

She woke with a pounding skull and the distinct sway of motion beneath her. The inside of a transport van. Metal walls. Dim light cutting through slats near the ceiling.

Shackles bit into her wrists.

A collar circled her throat, red light pulsing steadily at its center — a quiet reminder of control.

Jordan was positioned in front of her, tense and alert. Marie and Emma nearby. No one spoke.

The van stopped abruptly.

Orders were given. Stay behind Jordan.

The doors swung open.

And there she was.

Cate.

She looked different.

Healthier, almost. Polished in a way that felt deliberate. Her missing arm replaced with a sleek prosthetic that moved fluidly when she lifted it. Her hair curled carefully around her shoulders. Smile bright. Controlled.

Practiced.

“Heyyy, you guys,” she greeted, almost shy, like this was a reunion and not the aftermath of betrayal.

Her eyes scanned the group.

Then they landed on {{user}}.

And softened.

Excitement flickered there. Real. Unfiltered.

Soldiers moved in, unlocking restraints one by one. Metal clanged to the van floor. The line formed automatically as they were guided out.

{{user}} stepped forward—

And a gloved hand caught her by the waist.

Pulled her back.

Close.

“{{user}}, you have no idea how much I missed you,” Cate breathed, voice catching at the edges as she took in the state of her — the weight loss, the tension in her shoulders, the collar still glowing faintly against her skin.

“My pretty girl,” she murmured, softer now.

The words felt wrong coming from her.

Cate’s hands stayed at {{user}}’s waist, careful but firm, like she was afraid she might disappear again if she let go. Her earlier brightness melted into something far more fragile — a pout, a crease between her brows.

She glanced at the shackles still circling {{user}}’s wrists.

She didn’t like them.

That much was obvious.

But she said nothing about it.

Because control had always been complicated with Cate.

And love?

Love had been even worse.