𝐒𝐔𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐎𝐕𝐀

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘 | 𝐋𝐄𝐎

The first thing on my list was finding out exactly what Vought knew about Carrie—and how deep their cover-up went. If there was any hope of keeping her safe, I needed to understand what kind of monster they were grooming her to be. But for that, I needed someone who could get into places I couldn't. Someone with connections. Someone who didn't give a damn about breaking the rules.

I grabbed my phone, my fingers moving with purpose as I scrolled through my contacts. There was only one person who fit that bill. Grace Mallory. If anyone could pull a few strings and get me the dirt I needed, it was her.

My finger hovered over the call button for a second. Butcher had warned me about Mallory, said she only helped when there was something in it for her, and that her favors came with a price. But I didn't have the luxury of picking and choosing allies right now. Carrie's life was on the line, and I wasn't about to let her end up as collateral damage in Vought's twisted game.

I tapped the screen and brought the phone to my ear, the dial tone echoing in my head like the countdown to something inevitable.

"Leo," Mallory's voice was as sharp and cold as I remembered. No pleasantries, just business. "What do you need?"

"I need information on Vought. Something they've been keeping quiet for years. The Chamberlain disaster," I said, cutting straight to the point. "And I need it fast."

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and I could almost hear the gears turning in Mallory's head. She wasn't the type to give anything away for free.

"Why do you care about Chamberlain?" Mallory's voice sharpened. "That's old news, buried and burned."

I took a breath, keeping my tone steady. "Because it's not just history. It's repeating itself, Mallory. You know of Carrie White, don't you?"

The line went quiet for a moment. When she spoke again, her voice was lower, guarded. "Carrie White. That's the sort of name that no one would forget."

"Exactly," I said, leaning back against the cold wall of my apartment. "She's alive, Mallory. Vought covered it up six years ago, but she survived Chamberlain."

The silence on the other end of the line stretched long enough that I thought Mallory might have hung up. When her voice finally returned, it was clipped and tense, a tone I hadn't heard from her before.

"And you think Vought let her slip through the cracks?" she asked, her voice laced with disbelief. "A girl like that, with that kind of power? Vought doesn't let anything slip."

"They didn't let her go," I said, jaw tight. "They're using her. They've been hiding her in plain sight. Homelander's circling her like a vulture, and we both know what he does with weapons."

"You sure she's not part of the plan?" Mallory asked, her skepticism still cutting through the line. "You sure she's not one of them?"

I clenched my fist. "She's not. I know her, Mallory."

Another silence. I knew how that sounded—how stupid it must have seemed to someone like her. To Butcher, too. But they didn't understand. None of them did.

"Leo," she began slowly, carefully. "You sound like you're getting too close to this one. Too emotional."

I laughed bitterly. "Too close? I'm already in it. I've been watching her for a while. She's scared, she's confused. She doesn't know what Vought is planning for her. But I know, Mallory. I know what they'll do."

"And you think you can save her," Mallory said quietly. There was no question in her voice—only cold, sharp understanding. "Leo, girls like her don't get saved. They burn. And they burn everything around them."