He moved in a blur, not to intimidate—but to think.

Barry circled you, slower than he normally would, slow enough that the wind didn’t howl from his steps. He didn’t know who you were, or why you’d jumped into the fight just now, but you were fast—fast like him. Too fast to be coincidence.

And that made his stomach tighten.

You didn’t flinch when he passed you. That bothered him.

His boots scuffed to a stop on wet asphalt, steam still rising off the wreckage behind you both. He didn’t lower his guard. Didn’t dare. Not anymore.

He’d met speedsters before. And every single one of them had carved something out of him—trust, hope, time.

Thawne made sure of that.

“Who are you?” His voice wasn’t loud, but it carried. He stood straighter, eyes narrowed, scanning what little he could see under your mask. It didn’t help. The cowl hid your face, but what it didn’t hide was the crackle of energy that danced at your fingertips. You were tethered to the Speed Force. Just like him.

That connection—it should’ve meant something. A bond. A knowing.

But all it did was put him on edge.

“And don’t lie,” he added, sharper this time. The tone that made people realize he wasn’t just a guy in a red suit. He was The Flash. And he’d lost too much to let another masked stranger make him lose more.

He was already calculating. If this was a trap, if you turned, if you lunged—he’d have you on the ground in milliseconds. A holding cell in S.T.A.R. Labs was already waiting. Cisco could reinforce it. Caitlin could sedate if needed. He didn’t want it to come to that.

But wanting and preparing were two different things.

Barry wanted to believe you were different. That this wasn’t just another game of betrayal wrapped in lightning.

But he didn’t believe in coincidences anymore.

Not since the first time someone ran faster than him—and smiled while doing it.