She looked up as I approached, and I saw the problem immediately. Her left cheek showed the faint outline of a handprint. Someone had hit her. Hard enough to leave marks that hadn’t faded completely.

Rage moved through me like voltage, pure and white-hot. Someone had put their hands on the person who’d been protecting us for weeks. Misato was untouchable in my mind—the steady foundation that kept our chaotic squad functional. Seeing her marked like this triggered protective instincts I didn’t know I possessed. The kind that made me want to find whoever did this and introduce them to Overclock at point-blank range.

"Who?" The word came out flat and dangerous, stripped of its usual casual edge.

"It doesn’t matter." Her voice carried that same defeated quality I’d heard on the stairs.

"Like hell it doesn’t." I unlocked my door and pushed it open, stepping aside to let her enter. The hinges made their usual faint squeak. "Someone hit you. That matters. That matters a lot, actually."

She followed me into the apartment, moving with none of her usual confident grace. My living space suddenly felt too small, too intimate for whatever conversation was about to happen. Hikaru was at evening training, leaving us alone with the weight of unspoken problems.

Misato settled onto my desk chair while I perched on the edge of my bed. The distance felt necessary. Professional. Safe.

"Blair asked me to spy on you," she said without preamble. "Wanted intelligence about your abilities, your improvement, anything her father could use against you."

I processed Misato’s answer for several seconds. Johnathan Davenport asking questions was dangerous. Blair trying to turn my own squad captain into an informant crossed a different line entirely. The betrayal stung more than it should have, which meant I’d made the mistake of trusting Misato. Actually trusting her, not just working alongside her in some temporary alliance.

"What did you tell her?"

"Nothing useful." Those lime green eyes found mine and held them. "I said you earned first place fairly. That your squad worked like a unit while hers fought like five different people wearing the same house colors."

Something in my chest loosened a fraction. Misato had protected us when it meant taking a hit herself. When refusing Blair came with the kind of consequences that left visible marks on her face.

"She hit you for that?"

"Her sister hit me for telling the truth." Misato’s laugh sounded hollow, brittle around the edges. "Blair’s terrified you might actually be better than her. Terrified of what happens when Daddy dearest figures out she lost to someone he considers genetic trash. So she’s taking it out on anyone close enough to reach."

I let that sit for a moment. Blair’s behavior started making more sense if I looked at it through the filter of panic instead of pure arrogance. She wasn’t just defending her territory. She was fighting for survival in a family that probably devoured its own the moment they showed weakness.

That didn’t make hitting Misato acceptable. Nothing in the world made that acceptable.

But her sister?

"Are you okay?"

The question seemed to break something inside her. Misato’s carefully maintained composure cracked, and for the first time since I’d known her, she looked genuinely lost.

"I don’t know." Her voice came out smaller than I’d ever heard it. "Blair pays for everything. My tuition, my housing, my food, my equipment. Without her family’s support, I can’t afford to stay at the academy. But I can’t keep working for someone who treats me like property she owns."

The full scope of Misato’s situation crystallized. She wasn’t just our squad captain. She was Blair’s paid employee, dependent on Davenport money for her entire future. Refusing Blair’s orders meant risking everything she’d worked for.

And she’d done it anyway. To protect us.

"There have to be other options," I said. "Scholarships, grants, work-study programs."

"For a girl from the slums whose mother has a criminal record?" Misato shook her head. "Blair’s family gave me a chance when no one else would. The hunter academies don’t exactly recruit from my neighborhood."

The bitterness in her voice cut deep. Misato had clawed her way up from nothing, only to discover that her success came with strings attached. Strings that someone could yank whenever she stepped out of line.

"What do you need from me?"

The question hung between us. Misato studied my face like she was trying to solve a complex equation. Looking for something I wasn’t sure I could provide.

"I need to know this is worth it." Misato’s voice was quiet but steady. "Protecting your squad. Refusing Blair’s orders. Risking everything I’ve built. I need to know you’re not going to disappear when things get difficult."

The weight of her trust pressed down on me like gravity had doubled. She was asking me to be someone worth sacrificing for. Someone who wouldn’t bail when the situation turned ugly. 𝗳𝚛𝚎𝚎𝘄𝕖𝕓𝕟𝕠𝚟𝚎𝕝.𝗰𝕠𝐦

Problem was, I didn’t know if I was that person yet. The Divine Milking System had made me stronger, sure. Given me abilities I hadn’t earned. But strength without character was just another flavor of weakness. And my character was still figuring itself out.

"I can’t promise I won’t screw up," I told her honestly. "I’m still learning who the hell I’m supposed to be in all this. But I won’t abandon you. Any of you. Not after everything you’ve done for us."

Her shoulders dropped half an inch. Something about my answer had satisfied whatever test she’d been running.

"Blair’s bringing reinforcements," she said. "Her sister Cassandra is at the academy. Diamond-tier ability user. She’ll investigate you directly, try to find something her father can use."

My stomach dropped through the floor.

A Diamond-tier hunter asking questions about my rapid improvement would be catastrophically bad. That level of perception could probably see through the System’s influence, identify exactly what was happening to me. See the threads of power connecting me to every woman I’d extracted from.

The world and everything it had to offer. That’s what I’d told Jordan I wanted.

Time to prove I could actually reach for it when things got dangerous. When the stakes were more than theoretical and the consequences were real.

"We’ll figure it out," I said. "We always do."