She had tried to assassinate Captain Chromium. She was an Anarchist and a villain. Not long ago, she would have assumed the punishment would be life imprisonment, but she still recalled what the Captain had said the morning after her attack on headquarters. Soon, the Renegades would be revealing Agent N to the public, and part of their grand presentation would include the “public neutralization of all prodigies who have been heretofore convicted of villainous behavior.” Surely, at this point, that would include her, too.

She knew the Renegades had been testing Agent N on Cragmoor inmates, at their our discretion. No judge or jury had approved the permanent removal of their powers. The Renegades had no need of such antiquated practices—they did what served them best. Who cared what happened to a few criminals, anyway? Who cared if they were treated like nothing but disposable lab rats?

Her emotions were a jumble of anger and resentment that clouded what might otherwise have been sorrow.

Nova realized, in the midst of her self-pitying musings, that the fingers of her right hand had wrapped around her left wrist, gripping so tight that the tips of her left fingers were beginning to tingle from lack of circulation. Swallowing, she lowered her head and released her stranglehold. Her skin carried a ring of white where she’d been holding it, thicker than the faint tan line that depicted where the bracelet had sat against her skin for nearly her entire life.

It felt like someone had chopped off a limb, to be without the bracelet. And the star, too, though she’d had it for far less time. Still, the star felt like something she had made. Something she had dreamed into existence. With Adrian’s help, perhaps, but that didn’t change the intense feeling of ownership she had over it. The way it had secured itself, perfectly fit, to the empty prongs of the bracelet had seemed to confirm that it was hers. She hadn’t fully realized what a comfort its steady pulsing light had brought her these past weeks, while the rest of her life had been driven into further and further turmoil.

Now they were gone. The bracelet. The star. She hated to think of them in the hands of the Renegades, being examined and inspected. Probably Callum would end up with it at some point. He would write up a description for the database. He and Snapshot would argue over how it should be classified—jewelry, historical artifact, mysterious extraterrestrial matter?

Would they know that the star had been complicit in destroying the chromium box that had once protected Ace’s helmet? She shuddered to remember when, in a burst of rage, she had hurled the chromium spear at the box, and in the moment that spear left her hand, the star had let out a wave of light that blinded her, transforming the spear into what seemed like a shard of pure energy.

The next thing she knew, the indestructible box lay at her feet in pieces, and the helmet was free.

It was a mystery that she had only had time to contemplate in the quietest, stillest moments of the past weeks—which had been few and far between. Now, trapped inside her own indestructible box, she found it comforting to have a mystery to contemplate instead of her own crimes and betrayals.

A dream. A star. A painted mural brought to life. Threads of golden energy in the air. The helmet. Her father. The chromium spear. Dozens of artifacts that glowed faintly copper.

They all seemed connected, but how? What did it mean?

Ghosts of her family floated through her thoughts. The smile lines around her father’s eyes. Her mother’s gentle hands. Evie’s dimpled cheeks. And for once, thinking of them didn’t make her want to storm through the streets of Gatlon City and tear apart the first so-called superhero she saw.

For once, thinking of them made her nothing but sad.

She had failed them all.

Groaning, she buried her head in her arms, that one word an echo inside her skull.

Failure. Failure. Failure.

She had failed her family. Ace. The other Anarchists.

Even … Adrian.

Always at the surface of her thoughts, Adrian.

This time, for the first time in so long, she couldn’t even dredge up the memory of his open grin. Or the sensation of his kisses. Or the way his hand held his marker when he drew. Or how he had touched her wrist when they met at the parade. Or—

All that was gone, buried beneath an avalanche of heartache.

Now when she thought of Adrian, she thought only of the way he had looked at her, with the betrayal and disgust and loathing that she had feared for these many months.

She hadn’t realized it until that very moment, but it was all too clear now.

She was living her worst nightmare.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

“NOTHING,” ADRIAN MUTTERED to himself, scanning the digital report. “Nothing found in the remains of 9416 Wallowridge can conclusively confirm that any known villains with or without Anarchist affiliations, including alias: Nightmare, recently or otherwise visited or occupied the home.” He glanced up at his teammates. “Then it goes on to list everything they did find, which is mostly random stuff that could have been buried under the foundation decades ago. A couple glass bottles, hairpins, leftover wiring. Et cetera, et cetera.”

“Doesn’t mean anything,” said Oscar. “The house was burnt to a crisp. Of course they didn’t find anything—there was nothing left to find.”

Adrian nodded, but he couldn’t shake his disappointment. He believed Danna. He did. There was no denying that in some twisted way, it made sense that Nova was Nightmare, much as he hated to admit it. There were just too many coincidences.

Still. Hard evidence would have gone a long way toward pacifying his lingering doubts. What if they were wrong? What if Danna was mistaken?

But it was only wishful thinking. A burning desire to not be the Renegade who had been smitten by one of their worst enemies. A desperate need for Nova to not be the liar, the spy, the villain she’d suddenly become.

“Do they know what caused the explosion?” said Ruby, peering over Adrian’s arm at the screen. They were in the training room in the sublevels beneath headquarters, waiting for another mandatory session on Agent N to begin. But judging from the looks being passed their way from the other teams who were gathered around the mats and firing ranges, no one was talking about Agent N.

Adrian did his best to ignore his fellow superheroes, some with expressions full of pity, others haughtiness and scorn. As if they were immune to being duped like he had been, ignoring the fact that Nova McLain had duped them all.

“They’ve found a number of trace chemical compounds that are almost certainly responsible, but exactly what they are or how they combusted is still under investigation.” Adrian scrolled through the document.

“Nova would definitely be capable of creating a bomb,” said Oscar.

“Yeah, I know,” said Adrian, his brow furrowed. He wasn’t sure he had stopped frowning since the moment Nova had been taken into custody. “And unusual chemicals are the trademark of Cyanide’s work, too. They could have had this planned for a long time.”

“Just waiting for us to figure out that she’s a villain,” Ruby said with a sigh.

Adrian didn’t respond. It was as though he kept willfully forgetting the truth.

She’s a villain.

Ruby gasped, startling him. “Danna!”

He and Oscar both turned to see Danna coming down one of the narrow staircases from the catwalk above. She waved at them. Though there were dark circles under her eyes, she still looked worlds better than she had when she’d first retaken her human form. Color had returned to her cheeks and her dreadlocks had been arranged in a loose knot at the nape of her neck. She looked like the old Danna, fierce and confident and ready to get down to business.

“How are you feeling?” said Ruby when she reached them.

Danna stretched her hands gleefully overhead. “Awesome,” she said, without a hint of sarcasm. “You have no idea how good it feels to have fingers again.”

“So there were no serious injuries?” asked Adrian.

“Nope. I was mostly dehydrated, and being in swarm mode for so long made my symptoms wonky, but nothing a good night’s sleep couldn’t fix.”

“I heard Thunderbird saying you might be given some leave,” said Ruby. “They don’t want to force you back into the field before you’re ready.”

Danna snorted. “Yeah, she cornered me this morning to talk about it. Something about unfair labor practices and violations of human rights … I don’t know, I think they’re all in a tizzy over these complaints from Genissa Clark. But there’s no way I’m going to sit back now when we’re so close to finding the rest of the Anarchists. I want to be a part of this.”

“But what if you have to transform again?” said Ruby.

“So?”

“So … are you ready for that? So soon after…”

In a blink, Danna dissolved, her body replaced with hundreds of fluttering wings. They raced in a circle around the training hall, drawing attention from the other waiting patrol units. After a full lap of the space, the butterflies cycloned and Danna re-formed.

“I’m not afraid of my superpower,” she said, arms folded.

Ruby beamed and threw her arms around Danna’s neck. “Good. Because this team isn’t the same without you.” But as soon as she said it, her smile faded and she pulled away, just a bit, casting a nervous glance at Adrian.

He knew she was thinking about Nova. Though she hadn’t been a part of their team for nearly as long as Danna had, it still felt like the team wasn’t the same without her, either.

But there was no use thinking of that. She had never really been a part of the team at all.

“So?” said Danna, casting her attention between them. “Did they find anything at the house?”

Adrian shook his head and told her about the report. The remains from the fire had provided no evidence that could definitively connect Nova and Nightmare, or indicate where the other Anarchists might be hiding. With Ace Anarchy and Nightmare in custody, the Puppeteer neutralized, and the Detonator dead, that left three known Anarchists still at large: Cyanide, Queen Bee, and Phobia. The Renegades had had scouts posted near the cathedral since the day Ace Anarchy had been captured in hopes that one of his minions might make their way back to the site, and they were conducting routine checks of the subway tunnels throughout the city, but so far there had been no trace of the missing villains.