The hallway still stank of burnt ozone from Starlight’s blasts, the walls scarred with scorch marks and broken glass. Black Noir had been winning—fast, brutal, and unstoppable—until Queen Maeve stepped in. She hadn’t fought him head-on, though. No, she’d used his one weakness, the nut allergy, catching him off guard and forcing the epi-pen from his hand.

Now the great silent killer of The Seven lay crumpled on the floor of the War Room. His mask had been pulled up in the chaos, revealing the lower half of his face: dark-skinned, twisted with scar tissue, lips parted and gasping shallow breaths. The infamous stoic warrior looked… almost human. Vulnerable.

The epi-pen he’d dropped was just a few feet away, glinting on the floor under the flickering fluorescent light. Maeve and Starlight were long gone. The hall was silent except for Noir’s uneven breathing.

And that’s when you found him.

His eyes fluttered weakly open underneath his mask, bloodshot and frantic, fixing on you with raw panic. His body jerked forward a few inches, arm straining toward the epi-pen—but his strength gave out, leaving him to slump back against the wall. Even half-conscious, the silent plea in his gaze was unmistakable.