𝐒𝐔𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐎𝐕𝐀

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍 | 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐄

I never thought that an image of something that was so natural would turned into something disturbing. I barely made it out of the hallway before my legs gave out. I leaned against the cold wall, the fluorescent lights above me buzzing faintly, casting sterile shadows across the corridor. My breaths came in sharp, shallow gasps, and I could still feel Madelyn's twisted satisfaction in the back of my mind, a stain I couldn't wash away.

What was I supposed to do with this? I thought I knew what power looked like, but this? This was something else. Something insidious. Madelyn controlled Homelander in a way no one else could, and if I had learned anything from that disturbing scene, it was that her control wasn't something that was openly visible—it was subtle, invasive, like the roots of a plant that had wound themselves so deeply into the foundation that it couldn't be pulled free without collapsing everything around it.

I slid down the wall until I was sitting on the floor, knees pulled to my chest. My hands were shaking, and I clenched them into fists, trying to steady myself. I felt sick. My mind kept replaying the scene I had just witnessed in Madelyn's office. The way Homelander, so invincible, so terrifying, had reduced himself to that. To her.

I had heard the stories about his fixation on her, but to see it with my own eyes—to feel it in the twisted intimacy of their exchange—it made my skin crawl. The way he looked at her, the way his expression shifted from dangerous to vulnerable as she allowed him to... feed. It wasn't maternal. It was something darker. A perversion of power, of control. And she reveled in it.

Madelyn wasn't just controlling Homelander through manipulation or clever words. She had turned herself into his weakness, something he needed, something he craved. And that made her more dangerous than I ever could have imagined.

I pressed my palms to my temples, trying to push the images from my mind, but they wouldn't go away. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her smug smile, the way her hand gently cradled his head as if she owned him, and maybe she did.

But what did that mean for the rest of us?

If Madelyn could control someone as powerful as Homelander like that, then what chance did I have? What chance did any of us have? I had spent so long trying to figure out how to navigate Vought's games, how to survive under their constant scrutiny, but I was only just beginning to realize the true depth of their manipulation. It wasn't just about contracts or public image or even power on a surface level. It was about the most fundamental human needs—affection, validation, control.

And now, I was trapped in it too. In a different way, maybe, but still trapped.

A sudden chill washed over me, and I shivered, rubbing my arms as if I could physically shake off the feeling of being watched, of being preyed upon. What if Homelander had known I was still in the building? What if Madelyn had wanted me to see that? The thought made my stomach turn.

I had to get out of here.

Forcing myself to stand, I pressed my hand to the cold wall for balance, steadying my breath. My mind raced, trying to find some way out, some way to regain control over my own life before I became another one of Madelyn's puppets. But deep down, I knew it wasn't going to be that simple.

Nothing with Vought ever was.

As I walked down the hallway, every step felt heavy, like I was walking through quicksand. My mind raced, trying to process what I had seen, what I had heard. The game was so much bigger than I had realized. And I was just a piece on the board, being moved by forces I barely understood.

I stopped by the elevator, hesitating. My instinct was to run—to get as far away from Vought, from Homelander, from all of this as I could. But there was no running from them. Not really. Vought had its claws in every corner of the world, every aspect of my life. And now that I had seen what I had seen, I knew too much.