Chapter 13

  ***Carter residence**

  A week had passed since the fight with his mom, and in that time, the house had turned into something that barely felt like home.

  They spoke, but only in the way two strangers sharing a space would—brief, necessary exchanges with no depth. Every morning, she left food for him before heading to work, a quiet offering of care that neither of them spoke about. Every night, he came home to find food set for him, most of the time he'd find it cold, untouched by anything but time and silence.

  In between, Jace buried himself in routine;

  School. Patrolling. Fighting crime.

  His body moved on autopilot—classes, dodging Leo’s questions, sneaking out after dark. The streets were still dangerous, and he couldn't turn his back on them. Without his spandex suit, he was back to using his hoodie, which felt… wrong. He never thought he’d miss that tight, black second skin, but it had become part of him, part of the identity he was still figuring out.

  Leo had noticed the shift.

  "Man, you’ve been dodgy lately," Leo muttered one afternoon as they walked home.

  Jace kept his hands in his pockets, eyes on the sidewalk. "Dodgy how?"

  "You know how." Leo shot him a look. "You disappear right after school, barely answer texts, and when you do talk, you sound like you're a million miles away."

  Jace exhaled, shaking his head. "I’ve just been busy."

  Leo narrowed his eyes but didn’t push. He knew Jace well enough by now to recognize when a wall wasn’t coming down.

  At least Tank wasn’t an issue anymore. After getting embarrassed and beaten down weeks ago—long before the Pantheon attack—he had slunk into the background, his presence at school almost nonexistent. Jace barely even thought about him anymore.

  What did bother him, though, was the silence from the CDE.

  Despite his nightly patrols, despite the fights he had broken up, the muggers he had stopped, the criminals he had left tied up for the cops—he hadn’t heard anything from them. No messages. No warnings. No orders.

  It was like they were ignoring him.

  And somehow, that was more unsettling than anything.

  ----Nine Days After the Argument with his mom ---

  Jace came home late. Again.

  He locked the door behind him and trudged into the kitchen, his hoodie still damp from the drizzle outside. As expected, a plate of food sat on the counter, covered with foil, untouched by anything but time.

  Sitting down, he peeled the foil back and started eating. The food was cold, but he didn’t mind.

  Then, footsteps.

  Soft, hesitant, coming down the stairs.

  He paused, looking up just as his mother stepped into view. Her face was pale, eyes glassy with unshed tears, and when she opened her mouth, her voice was already breaking.

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  "How long are we going to keep this up, Jace?"

  Jace froze. His fork clattered against the plate. His chest tightened, something inside him unraveling too fast to stop.

  His mother swallowed hard, her breath shaky. "I can't do this anymore... this silence... this distance." She pressed a hand to her mouth, shaking her head, tears spilling over. "I don't want to lose you, too."

  That broke him.

  Jace stood up so fast the chair scraped against the floor. In two steps, he was in front of her, wrapping his arms around her as tightly as he could without hurting her.

  She sobbed into his shoulder, gripping the back of his hoodie like she was afraid he'd disappear. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm so sorry."

  Jace squeezed his eyes shut, holding back his own tears. His throat burned, his body trembled, but he just held her tighter.

  For the first time in weeks, the silence between them didn’t feel like a wall. It felt like a bridge.

  And for the first time in a week, Jace felt like he could finally breathe.

  ----CDE Interrogation Room – Two Weeks After the Pantheon Attack-

  The room was cold. Sterile. The kind of cold that seeped into your bones, not from temperature, but from the weight of the place itself. The walls, smooth and metallic, reflected the single overhead light in a dull, lifeless glow. No windows. No clock. Just a table, two chairs, and the unwavering silence that pressed down on Axel like a lead weight.

  He had been on the other side of this room countless times—watching, waiting, prying answers from those who thought they could defy the CDE. Never once had he imagined he’d be the one sitting here, staring across the table at a man whose presence carried the kind of authority that didn’t need to be explained.

  “Lucian Vendrell,” the man said, his voice smooth and measured, deliberate in a way that made it clear every word was chosen with care. “I represent the highest up. You understand what that means.”

  Axel held his gaze, saying nothing. He did understand.

  Lucian didn’t need to lean forward to be imposing. He simply watched, as if reading every thought running through Axel’s mind before he could speak them. After a pause, he laced his fingers together and spoke again.

  “You were brought here to answer for your actions—or rather, your inaction—regarding Dynamo.” A flicker of amusement, or maybe disdain, crossed his face. “Your ....leniency has not gone unnoticed.”

  Axel’s jaw tightened. His voice was calm, controlled. “I did what I thought was best.”

  Lucian exhaled through his nose, a small, almost disappointed sound. “Shall we review?”

  The words were rhetorical. It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. A conclusion already reached, a verdict already decided.

  To his left, Zara crossed her arms tightly over her chest, her stance rigid. “Dynamo was never under control. He resisted orders at every turn, and instead of shutting it down, you let it happen.”

  Kai let out a slow breath, shaking his head. “You let him walk away after multiple violations—breaking protocol in training, ignoring restrictions, reckless exposure. You made him believe there were no real consequences.”

  Lucian didn’t interrupt, merely listening with the patience of a man who already knew every word before it was spoken. Then, with an almost casual flick of his fingers, he slid a black folder across the table.

  Axel hesitated for only a second before flipping it open.

  Surveillance reports.

  Time-stamped images of Jace across the city. Caught in the act—stopping robberies, stepping into fights, leaving behind criminals battered but breathing in a hoodie and jeans costume. And beneath each image, a detailed log. Two weeks of unchecked vigilantism.

  Lucian’s voice was level, unreadable. “You allowed him to operate freely, outside of our jurisdiction, outside of our control. And in doing so, you forced us to adjust… to compensate for your negligence.”

  Axel kept his expression unreadable, but his grip on the folder tightened.

  Lucian continued, his words measured. “You may not realize it yet, but your failure to contain him had consequences beyond what you intended.” He paused just long enough to make Axel look up. “At Pantheon Laboratories, for example.”

  Axel’s fingers stilled against the paper.

  Lucian didn’t elaborate. He didn’t need to. The words were deliberate, left to hang in the air, unanswered.

  Was he implying what Axel thought he was?

  A beat passed.

  Lucian was watching him too closely now, searching for a reaction, for any flicker of realization.

  Axel kept his face impassive, but his mind was already turning over the details of that evening. The attack. The way it played out. The way it escalated.

  He had accepted it for what it seemed—a high-stakes robbery gone wrong, a reckless power grab that Jace had interfered with. But now… now the pieces weren’t fitting the way they should.

  Was it really just a robbery?

  Or had Jace walked into something bigger?

  Lucian gave the faintest hint of a smile, as if he could already see the doubt creeping in. He leaned back, adjusting the sleeve of his coat, his voice smooth as ever. “You are hereby relieved of your position, effective immediately, and you have been summoned by the highest up who will further give you appropriate punishment"

  Axel lifted his eyes from the folder, meeting Lucian’s gaze head-on. His expression remained unreadable, but his words were measured. “And what happens to Dynamo?”

  Lucian’s smile didn’t falter, but his eyes turned colder, sharpening like a blade pressed against the skin. “That is no longer your concern.”

  He stood, straightening his coat with practiced ease.

  For a moment, Zara and Kai hesitated.

  Axel didn’t miss it. That split second of doubt. They had been his people once. Fighters who stood beside him, trusted his judgment. But now, they were leaving with Lucian, their silence speaking louder than any words could.

  The door shut behind them, leaving Axel alone with the folder, the surveillance logs… and a question he wasn’t sure he wanted the answer to.