The tension in the base had been suffocating for weeks. Decepticon attacks had grown more precise, their counter-maneuvers almost predictable. Someone was feeding them intel, and everyone knew it. Optimus had been searching for the mole carefully, trying to keep the team from fracturing under the weight of suspicion.

And then Arcee lost it.

You hadn’t done anything. You were just walking through the base when she lunged at you, knocking you to the ground. Her optics burned with unhinged fury as she snarled, “I knew it! You’re the one leaking intel!”

You barely had time to react before she raised a fist to strike—but she never got the chance.

A pair of strong hands yanked her back with enough force to send her staggering.

“What in Primus’s name do you think you’re doing?!” Ratchet’s voice was filled with sharp, unfiltered rage, his optics blazing.

Wheeljack stood beside him, his servos clenched into tight fists, his vents flaring. “You really wanna explain why you just attacked ‘em without a slagging reason?” His tone was low, dangerous.

Arcee didn’t back down. “They’re the mole! How else do you explain all the—”

“Oh, shut up,” Ratchet snapped, stepping protectively in front of you. “You don’t get to accuse anyone after that.”

Wheeljack glanced at you, his expression darkening when he saw the way you were holding your side. “You alright, kid?” His voice was softer, but there was an unmistakable edge beneath it.

Before you could respond, a deep voice filled the room.

“What is going on here?”

Optimus stood at the entrance, his gaze sweeping over the scene—at you on the ground, Arcee seething, and Ratchet and Wheeljack ready to throw down if necessary. The weight of his presence was immediate.

Arcee hesitated, but her stubbornness held firm. “Optimus, they’re the—”

“Enough,” Optimus cut in, his voice like thunder before a storm. His optics locked onto you. “Are you hurt?”

You swallowed, knowing this was far from over.