But things had changed, and he knew it was his fault.

Nova hadn’t joined them for patrol duties the past few nights, and he couldn’t blame her after what they’d put her through. They crossed paths a couple of times at headquarters, but their conversations were stilted and awkward. Adrian had more daydreams of telling her about the Sentinel than he could count, wondering whether maybe sharing his greatest secret might show her, in some way, how much he really did trust her.

But then he recalled the loathing with which she spoke the Sentinel’s name and knew the time wasn’t right.

There hadn’t been any more sightings of Nightmare since she’d taken his drawings, which added to Adrian’s anxiety. He was sure she was plotting her next strike.

With Ace Anarchy’s execution only hours away, he suspected that strike would come sooner than later. He wanted to believe Nightmare wouldn’t be arrogant enough to attack an event in which almost every Renegade in the city would be present, but then, she’d never shied from taking big risks before.

Adrian made his way down the concrete stands of the arena, the same venue where the trials were held every year. The seats weren’t nearly as crowded now. Members of the media had been invited to witness the reveal of the Renegades’ new weapon, as well as the execution of Ace Anarchy, but these proceedings would not be open to the general public.

Adrian had never been in the stands of the arena, only down on the field. It was a completely different perspective—the buzz of energy from the crowd making the hair on his arms stand on end, the elevated view of the field making him feel more like a bystander than a participant. Which, he supposed, he was.

He was a Renegade, but he had no role to play in the reveal of Agent N. The neutralization of dozens of known villains. The execution of Ace Anarchy.

His fathers, on the other hand, would be in the spotlight, as always. He saw Simon on the field already, standing alongside Tsunami as they talked to a crowd of journalists.

Spotting Oscar and Danna in the front row, Adrian hurried down the rest of the steps to join them. “Hey,” he said, claiming a seat. “Ruby’s not here yet?”

“Not yet,” said Oscar. He glanced back up into the stands, as if searching for her, then leaned conspiratorially toward Adrian. “Before she gets here, can I ask your opinion on something?”

“What, my opinion wasn’t good enough?” said Danna, stretching her arms and lacing her fingers behind her head.

Oscar shrugged. “I’m just trying to be thorough.”

“It’s not poetry, is it?” asked Adrian.

“Even better. Check it out.” Oscar made pistols of his hands, aiming toward the empty air beyond the edge of the stands. A stream of smoke shot from his left finger, forming a pale gray heart a few feet in front of them. It was followed by a cupid’s arrow from his right finger that shot straight through the heart. The image lasted only a few seconds before the smoke began to dissipate into the air.

“Then I thought I could follow it up with words, something like—Hey, Ruby … I really like you! Like, so much that even thinking of doing this makes me want to spew my breakfast tacos all over these seats.”

“Inspired,” Danna muttered as the Renegades in the next row cast Oscar concerned looks.

Oscar sighed. “It’s honest, at least. I did read somewhere that honesty is a keystone of a healthy relationship.”

Adrian scratched the back of his neck.

“Anyway,” Oscar continued, “I’m still working on it. I thought it’d be reminiscent of those old airplanes that used to do skywriting over sports events, you know? So, what do you think? About the general idea, not the spewing part.”

Adrian glanced at Danna in time to see her roll her eyes. “Is this something you were thinking of trying out today?”

“Yeah, maybe,” said Oscar, rubbing his hands together. “I’d make the heart a lot bigger, put it somewhere over by the megascreen so everyone can see it. I did check with the Council to see if I could put a message up on the screen before the whole Agent N thing goes down, but they denied the request. Thunderbird—not a romantic.”

“Oscar,” said Adrian. “They’re going to drain the powers of some of society’s most dangerous villains and then execute someone.”

Oscar studied him, expressionless, for a long moment. “So you think it might be in bad taste?”

“Just a little.”

“Told you so,” said Danna.

Glowering, Oscar sank down into the plastic seat. “Do you have any idea how hard it’s been finding the right time to make a dramatic proclamation? It’s like someone’s always getting arrested or un-arrested or we’re apprehending a criminal or taking down a villain.… When is a guy supposed to make his move in the midst of all of that?”

“You could try not making a dramatic proclamation,” suggested Danna. “Just ask her out. It’s not that big of a deal.”

Oscar groaned. “Not a big deal? I’m trying to tell the girl of my dreams that she’s, you know … the girl of my dreams! That’s the biggest deal of my life!” He shook his head, his brow creased with anxiety. “And I’m worried I’ll screw it up.”

“What the heck, Adrian?” yelled Ruby, suddenly barreling down the stairs.

Oscar tensed and smacked Danna and Adrian with a hasty shush, as if they were preparing to give him away. Danna smacked and shushed him back.

“Hey, Ruby,” said Adrian, standing so she could get past him to her seat. “What’s up?”

“The concession stands are closed,” she said, gesturing toward the back of the arena. “Every last one of them. Who’s in charge of this shindig?”

“Proof that you two are made for each other,” muttered Danna.

Ruby glanced at her. “Huh?”

“Nothing,” said Danna, shaking her head. “This isn’t a sporting event. Let’s all show a bit of respect.”

Ruby huffed. “There is no occasion that doesn’t warrant the sale of stale popcorn and licorice ropes. It’s practically a basic human right.”

“Protest,” said Oscar, nodding stoically.

Flopping into her chair, Ruby crossed her arms. “Where’s Nova?”

Adrian winced, though he tried not to let it show. “I don’t think she’s coming.”

He tried to ignore Danna’s arched eyebrow. He knew she still harbored doubts about Nova’s innocence, and it was beginning to irk him. They had seen Nightmare, and it wasn’t Nova. Why couldn’t she accept that?

“Why not?” said Ruby, surprised.

He pushed up his glasses. “She’s always been against Agent N, and I think having spent some time at Cragmoor made her really against it. My dad told me she made a pretty passionate plea for them to call off the neutralization. She thinks the criminals should be given a chance at rehabilitation instead.”

“Imagine that,” said Danna.

Adrian shot her a look, which she ignored.

“I guess I can understand,” said Ruby, disappointed. “I’ve hardly seen Nova since she came back. I’m worried she might be mad at us.…”

“Don’t be,” said Adrian. “I think she’s just trying to work through a lot right now. You know, the explosion, Cragmoor, being reunited with her uncle … just give her some time.”

“Of course,” said Ruby, though she didn’t seem to find much comfort in Adrian’s words. He couldn’t blame her. He’d been telling himself the same thing lately. He would give Nova the space she needed. He would be patient. And when she needed him, he would be there for her.

But it was easier said than done. The truth was, he missed her. He missed her more now than he had even when she’d been in prison. At least, then, he’d been able to tell himself it was for the better.

“Oh, look, there’s Genissa,” said Oscar, pointing. “As cheerful as ever.”

Genissa Clark was on the field, an impressive crossbow strapped across her back. She was talking to Captain Chromium. Even from up in the stands, Adrian could tell that they were both frustrated with each other.

“Is that a cooler?” said Danna, indicating the box at Genissa’s feet.

“It is,” said Oscar. “Damn her. She probably thought to bring sandwiches.”

“I don’t think it’s sandwiches,” said Adrian. “I heard she was planning to execute Nightmare with an icicle, thinking it would have some sort of poetic justice. I bet she brought one with her.”

Ruby made a disgusted noise. “That would have been so…”

“Unnecessary. And messy,” said Oscar.

“And overdramatic,” added Danna.

“Would you prefer an old-fashioned hanging?” said Adrian, his insides churning to think of how narrowly Nova had evaded this fate. “Or burning at the stake, like they used to kill prodigies?”

“No,” said Ruby. “I would prefer … I don’t know. Isn’t there a way to put someone to sleep first so they don’t feel anything?”

Adrian peered down the line of his friends and knew they were all thinking the same thing. Putting people to sleep was Nightmare’s specialty, her attack of choice. Never before had it occurred to him that it could also be an act of mercy.

“How is your dad going to, you know…,” Oscar started, “do in Ace Anarchy?”

Adrian watched Hugh for a second, still arguing with Genissa. “I’m not sure what he has planned. But … I think right now Genissa is trying to be the one to do it. She’s been threatening them all week, ever since Nova was released, saying that she at least deserves some glory if she can’t have revenge. Otherwise, she’s still saying she’ll ruin the Renegades by going to the media with her laundry list of complaints.”

Danna grunted. “That girl has a strange sense of glory.”