𝐒𝐔𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐎𝐕𝐀

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 | 𝐋𝐄𝐎

I had never been the one to feel truly afraid. Not like Carrie, who'd been tangled in Vought's grasp for as long as I'd known her. But tonight, that old, gnawing feeling crept up my spine, twisting in my gut. I couldn't shake the images that had flashed on the screen during that press conference: Carrie standing there, a puppet to Vought's ambitions, wearing a mask I knew too well. She'd tried to play it cool, to be strong, but he'd seen it in her eyes. She was breaking.

She had sent her last message—"I'm in. Tomorrow night. I'll be ready."—just before everything went dark on her end. No follow-up texts, no check-in. She was being watched, and they both knew it. But she was still willing to run, despite the risk. I admired her for that. Or maybe I pitied her. It was hard to tell these days.

I paced my small apartment, lit only by the occasional glow of my computer screens, each one flooded with intel, security feeds, and maps of the Vought building. I'd studied those blueprints for weeks, memorizing every hallway, every security blind spot. Every exit route she might need.

But if anything went wrong—if Vought suspected even a fraction of what we were planning—we'd be in over their heads before we even began.

I stopped pacing, forcing myself to take a breath. There was no room for fear. Not now. Not with what was at stake.

I took a long breath, willing myself to stay calm. Carrie needed me at my best, clear-headed, ready. She was risking everything to get away, but we both knew that escaping Vought wasn't just about running—it was a war against an empire that swallowed people whole, turning lives into merchandise. And Carrie... she was one of their most valuable "assets." They weren't just going to let her walk out.

The laptop's low hum was the only sound in my apartment as I clicked through surveillance feeds from my last Vought hack. It had taken me months to get this level of access, and I wasn't sure how long it would hold. I'd tapped into their lower-level security cameras and planted a worm that could unlock some of their doors remotely, at least for a minute or two. It wasn't much, but it was all I could get. We were running on scraps, but it would have to be enough.

That's when I heard a rough knock on the door. Heavy, like they meant it.

I froze, then checked the clock. Midnight. I hadn't told anyone about tonight. Had Vought tracked me here? I barely had time to think before the door banged open.

It was him.

Billy Butcher stepped in, grinning, his eyes as sharp as ever. He looked like he'd been waiting for this moment. Maybe even expecting it.

"Little late to be playin' secret agent, ain't it, Leo?" he said, his voice thick with that deep, mocking tone he always used. Like nothing was ever serious enough for him to bother with.

I felt a flash of irritation. "I told you to stay out of this, Dad. It's not your fight."

Butcher chuckled, a harsh, humorless sound. "That's where you're wrong, mate. If it involves Vought, it's my bloody fight too."

I clenched my fists, ready to snap, but I forced myself to calm down. Butcher didn't understand what I was doing. He never did. To him, this was just another chance to go after Vought, to chase his vendetta. But this was more than revenge. This was about Carrie—and he didn't know her like I did. She was more than just another pawn in his endless crusade.

I kept my voice low, steady. "I know what I'm doing, alright? I've been planning this for weeks. We've got one shot at getting her out, and if you blow this—"

Butcher cut me off with a wave of his hand, dismissing my words like they were nothing. "You think I'm here to muck up your little operation? Nah, Leo. I'm here to make sure you don't get yourself killed. Vought doesn't play nice, and you're playin' with fire, son."