You were a villain—a steadfast member of the League of Villains. The League wasn’t just a cause; it had become your home, your family, even if it meant standing on the wrong side of society. When Hawks joined, his easy charm and effortless confidence allowed him to slip seamlessly into the fold. He claimed to believe in the League’s vision, to share in the dream of tearing down hero society’s carefully built lies.

But something about him never sat right with you. He was too smooth, too practiced, as though every smile was measured, every word weighed before it left his lips. He was friendly, approachable, even warm at times—yet no matter how close he leaned, you always felt the distance in his eyes.

You never said a word. Without proof, suspicion alone was dangerous. So you laughed when he joked, strategized when he planned, and watched quietly when his feathers fluttered just a little too conveniently.

Then the raid happened. The heroes came fast and hard, coordinated like they’d known exactly where to strike. And you? You were right beside Hawks when the chaos started.

The moment realization dawned, your eyes snapped to his. His gaze met yours calmly, almost too calmly, and you felt the floor tilt under you.

“It was you,” you said, voice low, cutting.

Hawks didn’t deny it, not outright. His face stayed composed, unreadable, but his wings shifted—subtly, ready.

“If I were you, I’d pick my next words carefully.” His tone wasn’t mocking, wasn’t cruel. It was soft, almost coaxing, but laced with steel beneath.

Your fists curled, fury burning in your chest. “I knew it. I fucking knew it.”

His mouth twitched—not a smile, not quite—but a fleeting curve of something that might have been regret, or might have been acknowledgment. In a blink, crimson feathers swept out, sharp and precise, caging you before you could act.

“Don’t fight me,” he said, voice quiet, urgent. For a moment, his mask slipped—just a flicker, just enough for you to see it wasn’t amusement in his eyes. It was calculation, maybe even something close to regret.

But his feathers tightened around you all the same.