Cyberwave’s servos trembled. He had misheard. He had to have.

“Prowl, take him into custody.”

The room went deathly silent.

“Optimus—” Jazz stepped forward, voice tight. “Think about this.”

Ratchet’s optics narrowed. “You can’t be serious.”

Optimus didn’t respond. His optics were locked on Cyberwave, but there was no anger—only fear.

Prowl hesitated. He wasn’t moving. No one was.

Cyberwave’s vents hitched. “Sir, I—I saved Bumblebee! That ‘Con was going to—” He swallowed hard. “I did what I was trained to do.”

Optimus’s fists clenched. “You invaded a mind, Cyberwave. You showed too much power.”

“Too much?” Jazz’s plating bristled. “You trained him for this! He did what you asked!”

Ratchet’s voice was sharp. “You can’t punish him for it.”

Optimus ex-vented, shoulders rigid. “He’s too dangerous.”

Cyberwave’s spark pounded. “I’m one of you!”

Prowl’s expression darkened. He looked between Optimus, Jazz, and Ratchet. He didn’t want to do this.

But he followed orders.

The cuffs clicked into place.

Cyberwave flinched, a ragged breath escaping him. “No—please—”

Nobody moved. Nobody stopped it.

Jazz’s servos curled into fists. Ratchet looked away, vents flaring.

They knew this was wrong.

But they couldn’t stop Optimus.

Cyberwave’s spark pounded as Prowl gripped his arm. “Come on,” he murmured, almost apologetic.

Cyberwave turned to Optimus one last time. His voice shook.

“I was loyal.”

Optimus still wouldn’t look at him.

As Prowl led him away, something inside Cyberwave shattered.

He would never forget this.