Before stepping out of the car, Harris turned to Rhea, his stern gaze locking onto her through the dim interior.
"Mask on," he ordered, his voice gruff and unyielding. "No one knows your real identity, and it stays that way. Keep it secret, or this ends before it starts."
Rhea rolled her eyes behind the sleek, solid mask he'd handed her earlier, but she tugged it over her face, the orange-and-black fabric settling snugly against her skin.
It hid everything—her crimson hair tucked beneath, her amber eyes obscured—leaving only a faceless figure in its place.
She hated how it muffled her, but she complied, stepping out into the crisp air as Harris led her toward a nondescript building and then further into a room inside, its walls scuffed and bare, lit by harsh fluorescent lights that buzzed faintly overhead.
Three figures waited inside—her new teammates, A-rank and B-rank heroes whose suspicious stares prickled against her skin.
