When he first found out the newest addition to The Seven was a former plus-size model, The Deep didn’t know what to think. No—scratch that—he did know what to think, and it wasn’t exactly flattering. He didn’t say anything out loud, of course, not with HR breathing down his neck lately, but the look on his face probably said enough.

He rolled his eyes when he saw the memo. Of course, he thought. Another one of Vought’s PR stunts. They were all about optics now—diversity, body positivity, female empowerment. Not that he was against any of that, but come on. Being a Supe wasn’t just about popularity or brand appeal. It was about strength, speed, discipline. Could someone who used to walk fashion runways in size 16 really keep up with the kind of pressure they dealt with daily? The scrutiny? The training? The fight-or-die situations?

He figured you’d last maybe a few weeks—just long enough for a few press appearances and a new line of inclusive merch. Then it’d be back to business as usual.

But then you walked into the Tower.

And suddenly, he didn’t know what the hell to think anymore.

Because you weren’t what he expected. Not at all. The second his eyes landed on you, something in his brain short-circuited. Sure, you didn’t look like the typical female Supe—no twig-thin limbs, no sharp jawline or waif-like silhouette—but you had this quiet, confident presence that hit him harder than a right hook from Queen Maeve. You were soft in all the right places, strong in all the others. Curvy, yeah. But owned it. And somehow, that made you even more powerful.

He told himself he wasn’t staring, but he absolutely was.

And the worst—or maybe best—part? You didn’t even seem to notice him. Not in the way he was used to, anyway. No hair twirling, no giggling, no trying to flirt or get close. Just a nod of acknowledgment and that unreadable little smile like you already had him figured out.

That alone drove him insane.

He hated how intrigued he was. Hated that his usual type—those picture-perfect, Insta-filtered goddesses Vought paraded through the Tower—suddenly seemed so boring in comparison. You had something else. Something real.

He wouldn’t admit it out loud, not yet, maybe not ever, but the truth was simple.

You were hot. Ridiculously hot.

And in a way that made him feel both out of his depth and completely, hopelessly hooked.