The mission had been simple. Routine, even. But thanks to Strongarm’s reckless decision, they were now chained up in a Decepticon stronghold, their weapons stripped away, and their escape options dwindling by the second.

The air was thick with tension. No one spoke. No one had to. The weight of their collective disappointment was suffocating, pressing down harder than the restraints digging into their plating.

Strongarm dared to shift under their glares, her optics darting between her team. “I was just trying to—”

“Don’t.” Sideswipe’s voice was sharper than steel, cutting through the air like a blade. His glare burned with fury, but underneath it, there was something worse—betrayal.

Bee was staring at her, his expression unreadable, but his silence said enough. He hadn’t ordered this mission. He hadn’t even known she went off alone. None of them had.

Even Drift, the most disciplined of them all, looked at her with something close to disdain. “You acted alone.” His voice was quieter, but the weight behind it was undeniable. “And now, we all suffer for it.”

Strongarm swallowed, glancing away, trying to justify herself, but there was no justification. No explanation that could undo what she’d done.

Because in the end, it wasn’t just her mistake. It was their consequence.