I woke up before sunrise.
Not because I wanted to.
But because my body wouldn't let me sleep.
Mark's voice still rang in my ears.
"I hope you're excited for tomorrow."
I sat up, rubbing the exhaustion from my face. The safehouse was silent, the others still resting. But outside these walls, the world was anything but quiet.
I reached for my phone. The news cycle hadn't stopped overnight. Headlines flooded every platform, picking apart every angle of the trial.
"Masked Syndicate Dodges Criminal Ties—But for How Long?"
"New Footage Sparks Debate: Was Mr. Fox Ever a Hero?"
"Courtroom Chaos: Is the Defense Too Confident?"
Some were in our favor. Some were vicious. The public was divided, but the most dangerous thing I saw wasn't the accusations.
It was the doubt.
Even supporters were starting to hesitate. The Masked Syndicate had always been shrouded in mystery, but now that secrecy was working against us.
A knock at the door pulled me out of my thoughts.
