The silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating.
I sat frozen, the weight of Alexis's words pressing against my chest like a vice.
A court case.
Not just any trial—a trial against the entire Masked Syndicate.
My mind raced. I knew my tangled web of identities would eventually cause legal trouble, but not this. Not now. The governments of the world were already under pressure—forced to assist in my landing, forced to acknowledge my survival, forced to play along with a narrative they didn't control.
And now, they were trying to tip the scales back in their favor.
They needed to reclaim control.
I exhaled sharply, fingers curling into the thin blanket draped over my lap.
This wasn't just about Mr. Angel, Mr. Dust, or Mr. Fox. It was about power.
They wanted to prove that the system still worked. That people like me—people who defied categorization, who slipped through the cracks of their carefully organized structures—could be caught.
