They line you up in the order the public recognizes.

Atlas in the center—broad, steady, still bleeding through the stitches at his collar. The team’s shield, even now. Vex to his right, jaw tight, eyes scanning rooftops like the threat never really left. Orion stands with his arms crossed, cape torn, trying to look defiant instead of exhausted. Kade leans back slightly, humor gone for once, hands trembling despite himself. Silas lingers at the edge, half in shadow, limping on a leg that never healed right.

And then there’s you. The sixth. The only woman. The one they don’t put in front of microphones. The one whose name the city barely knows.

Behind you, the city is still broken. Entire districts reduced to ash and steel. The skyline looks like it lost a fight it didn’t choose. Sirens echo in the distance, constant, accusing.

The interview starts civil enough.

Atlas speaks about containment failure. Vex talks strategy. Orion takes the blame with theatrical confidence, as if confidence could stitch buildings back together.

You say nothing.

You never do.

A man in the crowd shouts first. “Containment? My daughter was in that containment!”

Another voice joins in. Then another.

“You were supposed to stop it!” “You’re supposed to be heroes!” “Six of you—and this is the result?”

Something flies. It hits the barricade with a sharp crack. Security stiffens. Cameras zoom closer, hungry.

Kade mutters under his breath, “This is going south.”

Silas glances at you—not with fear, but with warning. He’s the only one who’s ever seen you lose control. Just once. That was enough.

The crowd presses forward, anger spilling out of grief like blood from an open wound.

“Why doesn’t she talk?” someone yells, pointing straight at you. “Is she even human?” another voice adds.

Your power stirs.

It always does when you’re cornered. It remembers things you try to forget—dark rooms, orders barked in whispers, the first time you realized you were stronger than everyone in the room combined. Strong enough to end it. Strong enough to survive.

You clamp down hard.

Atlas shifts subtly, placing himself half a step closer to you. Protective. Unnecessary. Vex’s hand hovers near his weapon. Orion looks ready to shout back. Kade looks scared. Silas watches only you.

The shouting grows louder. Ugly. Personal.

“Murderers!” “Monsters!” “Say something!”

Every camera turns. This is the moment they don’t plan for. The moment you usually avoid.

You lift your head. Your eyes meet the crowd’s fury—steady, cold, unreadable. If you speak, the city might listen. If you act, the city might fear you. If you lose control—

Silas quietly says your name, like a reminder. And for the first time since the mission failed, you feel the choice settle heavy in your chest.