Bev faltered; the blade dipped. She shot her glare over her shoulder at Mac and found not even a flinch to work with. For a woman who had built a whole personality out of being the loudest thing in the room, the silent refusal was gasoline on an old fire. Her breath came faster, shallow and broken, every inhale stoking the panic that was finally starting to seep through her cracks.
From Archer’s ear came a dry whisper. “Children’s wing secure,” Lola said. “Ever’s on his third storybook. Thomas is monologuing in the hall about the Good Old Days.”
Archer kept his eyes on Bev, but the corner of his mouth tugged. “How is our storyteller?”
“It’s like the boys are having some kind of religious experience,” Calliope muttered. “Even Wyatt and Day are cross-legged like six-year-olds at storytime.”
Another voice popped into his ear, one he was certain wasn’t meant for him: Elijah. “Sam, you’re clear outside. Blow off the old lady and come snuggle me. I’m bored.”
“Copy,” Shep said, and the little don’t make me wait testiness in Elijah’s tone put a brighter gleam in his smile.
Bev’s breathing had found a new rhythm: small, fast sips. Archer watched her try to steady the hand holding the knife and fail. He could feel Mac waiting. He let himself have a little fun.
“Tell me,” Archer said, tipping forward like a confessor. “From one monster to another, do you practice your cruelty or do you just go off the cuff?”
Bev’s mouth worked. “Monster? Me?” she asked, aghast. “What did he tell you? What lies has he been spreading?”
“Lies? You’re the liar, Bev. You’re the one running to the tabloids every chance you get. My father keeps paying you to fuck off, but you can’t help yourself, your hatred and narcissism drag you back. Your malignant need to torment your son is a drug and you’re the worst kind of junkie.”
“You know nothing about me,” she screeched. “I didn’t even want him. He was an accident. A parasite. I already had my one perfect son.”
“Don’t listen to this Zane,” Thomas said quietly. “You don’t have to listen to this. You’re none of those things. She’s the parasite and she realizes that she’s about to be excised from her host.”
“I’m fine,” Zane said, clearly choking on his tears. “I’m fine.”
“Killing Zane’s comms,” Calliope said.
“No,” Noah said. “Don’t. Nobody knows better than me what happens when you start to forget what they did to you.”
Lucas’s voice cut through Zane’s soft sobs. “It should be Zane’s call.”
Bev couldn’t hear the effect she was having behind the scenes. She was too busy unburdening her delusions. “His fatherrefused to let me get rid of him. Then when he was born, Zane was so needy, so clingy, always crying, always begging for my attention. Tried to steal me from my Gage. And then he died! That-That…boy destroyed my body, my life, my everything. Don’t I have the right to do the same?”
“What did he ever do to you other than ask his mother to love him?” Mac spat. “I’m with Zane. I don’t know how much more of this shit I can tolerate before we put this bitch down.”
Archer blinked at the venom in Mac’s voice. He wasn’t a sociopath like his brother but he also wasn’t one to be overwrought with emotion.
“Leave her to me,” a voice said from the shadows.
Bev gasped, whirling in a frantic circle just as Batman stepped out of the darkness, cape trailing like a living shadow. The sudden shape of him, massive and silent, stole what little air remained in the garden. It might’ve been comical, if not for the sound of Zane’s muffled sobs echoing through every comm.
“It’s your call, Zane,” Thomas said softly, voice cutting through the chaos like velvet over steel. “Do we call it off or keep going? We can end this right now.”
Zane’s answer came strained but sure. “Let August play with her for a while.”
“Then send that bitch to us,” Asa growled.
“To me,” Avi countered. “Asa’s heading back to the war room. I’ll be fine on my own.”
“Me?” Asa said. “I’m sure he wants Felix.”
“He wants you, dumbass,” Felix said dryly. “Come get your husband and I’ll go get mine.”
“August, be advised, reinforcements are on the way. Atticus and Jericho are en route,” Calliope reported, her tone clipped and professional.
August tore his mask off and tossed it to the grass. “I don’t need help torturing one pathetic old lady.”
At his words, Bev let out a guttural sound, something caught between a sob and a snarl. She wasn’t wrong to be afraid. August might’ve cut an imposing figure as Batman, but he was far more terrifying when he droppedthatmask, the one that tricked the world into thinking he was human.
