“Noted.” He tilted his head. “I can do that. I’m a great cook, too, I swear. Ever hear of abalone porridge? Great for cold days. I make it just like Mom taught me.”
He stilled, and my breath caught. Joon loved his mother; I’d always been jealous of that. Whenever we got a bonus, he would wire it straight to her, and it always ended up in a video call where she would reprimand him.
“Ma,” he’d huff, “please take it. No, I don’t need it. Yes, everything is fully funded, I’ll be fine. Get yourself something nice, or use it for the restaurant. Give it to charity if you want to—it’s a gift.”
Alex stepped forward; we’d found our entry. “I spoke to her last month. The restaurant is doing well; they’ve been getting more tourists. She hired some new staff to help her out, too, so she doesn’t have to work as hard. I had to convince her, though.”
Joon let out a soft laugh, and his brows scrunched, as if he were confused. “She hates to waste money, and extra staff are just?—”
“—bodies that get in the way,” I finished his sentence without thinking.
With the amount of calls he’d made to her while we were partners, I’d nearly memorized their script. I never even realized it. His eyes flitted to mine, hovering, calculating. He stepped away from Reed, who finally let out a breath.
“How do you feel about scars, then?” His eyes stayed on me, but the question was directed at Reed. He’d changed the topic,and black flashed to purple. “Unfortunately, I’ve got plenty to spare.”
Alex jolted as Joon disappeared, before landing inches in front of me. I got a closeup of his wounds; his marred skin, the white hair that had once been as black as Alex’s.
I did this.
“I used to be pretty, too. Right,buddy?” Joon’s voice went low, just as he sent a punch flying toward my face.
This time, though, we were in Alex’s realm. She saw everything, controlled every inch of the space, and had become a master conductor. A stone wall appeared between us, and aCRACKfilled the air before it dropped back down. Joon bent over, clutching his hand to his belly. He turned to Alex, pain and pride on his face.
“Ouch,” he breathed. “Impressive, though. Nice job, little dreamer.”
“Don’t start a fight if you can’t take a hit,” Reed chimed back in, like he sensed the tension, and decided to redirect. “Can I ask you a question?”
He was someone neutral to bounce off of; not Joon’s childhood best friend, or partner-turned-killer. Joon responded to him the best, and Reed knew it. He was using that leverage now, and I desperately hoped it would work.
“Fair enough. Shoot,” Joon smiled, and the purple haze behind his eyes simmered.
“Did you watch the footage?”
“What footage?”
Joon was dancing around now, a bit of his madness leaking out. He popped up everywhere; toying with us, or maybe he’d just completely lost it. Alex sighed when he tugged at her new horns, murmuring something about the ‘new look’. Then he was beside Reed, peering into his eyes again. When he came to me, the energy shifted. It wasn’t playful, or even insane.
He radiated malice.
But he didn’t try to hit me again—he never doubted Alex’s power, and only needed one reminder to set himself back in place. At least that hadn’t changed either. It was an anchor; small things that were still intact, pieces of Joon that would hopefully be put back together again.
“The fire,” Reed said, jerking away as Joon ruffled his hair, before popping up beside Alex again. “Did you ever actually watch the coverage? Or did your newfriendsonly tell you about it?”
Joon was lying between the three of us now, his arms tucked behind his head as he swung his knee back and forth. He even yawned to level up the drama.
“Wouldn’t that be traumatic? I’m pretty sure that’s not recommended in therapy. Honestly, I think it’d piss me off even more.” He was beside me again, leaning in close, but still refusing to touch me. “When I get out of here, you know I’m going to kill you, right?”
His smile chilled me to the bone, and yet it didn’t make me angry. My temper didn’t flare; Joon deserved to be angry.
You deserve to be happy,Alex’s voice was in my head, now.
For years, it had been his. Recycled statements that brought on the shame, the guilt. It was still there, but something else was too. I had people now. Alex, Reed, even Dahlia, when she wasn’t pissing me off. The fire was my fault—but this? It was the work of Villains, and it didn’t feel like Joon was fighting back. Maybe he did at first. Maybe that’s why his data only showed every six months.
The old Joon would have fought tooth and nail, would have rather died than becomethis.He’d stopped trying somewhere along the way.
“Joon,” Alex called, and a large screen appeared over our heads. “What does this look like to you?”
My stomach bottomed out as news reels started to play. No, not reels, onesingularmoment. When I tried to get back inside—when everyone had held me back. Heroes covered in stone or ice, the only ones who could stand my flames at the moment. Joon tilted his head up, and we all watched. It was a vulnerable, uncomfortable scene to watch play out. The way embers and smoke shot out of my mouth, veins straining in my neck, my screams.
