Sevika walked in, her expression unimpressed as she surveyed the aftermath. "Leave you alone for one hour..." she muttered, her gaze landing on me first, then shifting to Vander. "You couldn't keep her out of trouble?"

Vander shrugged, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "Not her fault."

"Depends on how you define 'trouble,'" Vi chimed in, earning herself a sharp look from Sevika.

Sevika just rolled her eyes, grabbing my arm and steering me toward the door. "We're leaving," she said curtly.

She stood behind me, her face tight with exhaustion, a faint sheen of sweat on her brow. My eyes widened when I saw the dried blood staining her leg and the fresh gash along her thigh.

"Oh my god, are you okay?" I panicked, dropping my bunny as I scrambled off the stool. My voice pitched higher than I intended, but I couldn't stop myself.

Sevika waved me off with a laugh, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "I'm good, kid. It's just a scratch."

"A scratch?" I repeated, incredulous. "You have a hole in your leg, Sevika! We need to get you to a doctor! And disinfectant—and bandages—and your face! That's going to bruise! Who did this to you?" My voice rose with each word, my panic spilling over before I could stop it. "I'll kill them!"

The words hung in the air, the bar falling silent around us. All eyes turned toward me, wide and stunned. Even Powder, who had been mid-bite of something, froze with her mouth open, blinking at me like I'd just grown a second head.

"I—" My voice faltered as I realized what I'd said. Heat rushed to my face, but the fire in my chest didn't cool. Someone had hurt her—my Sevika—and I wanted to make them pay.

Sevika stared at me for a moment, and then, to my utter surprise, she laughed. A real, deep laugh that I rarely heard. "It's fine, little rocket," she said, ruffling my hair with her uninjured hand. Her eyes softened, a rare lightness flickering there. "I'm not dead, see? No need to go planning a murder spree on my behalf."

"But it's not fine!" I protested, the words tumbling out faster than I could stop them. "You're hurt! What if it gets infected? Or—or what if—"

"Enough," Sevika interrupted, crouching slightly to pick up my bunny from where it had fallen. She brushed it off and held it out to me, her expression both amused and a little exasperated. "You're gonna make yourself sick worrying like that."

I hesitated, gripping the bunny tightly as my eyes darted to her leg. Blood was still oozing sluggishly from the gash, staining her pants a darker shade. "We should still—"

"Say goodbye," she said firmly, patting my shoulder with a finality that made it clear the conversation was over.

I glanced back at Vander, Powder, and Vi, all of them watching me with expressions that ranged from curious to bewildered. Powder looked like she was holding back a laugh, Vi's smirk was sharper than ever, and Vander was just shaking his head, muttering something under his breath.

"Bye," I whispered, lifting a small, awkward hand in farewell.

"See you around!" Powder called cheerfully, waving back like nothing had happened.

Vi tilted her head, giving me a sly grin.

My face burned even hotter.

Sevika let out a soft snort, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and steering me toward the door. Her touch was as steady as always, but I could feel the slight tension in her movements, the stiffness she was trying to hide.

Once outside, the cool night air hit us, but it did little to calm the churning in my chest. "You're still limping," I said quietly, glancing up at her.

"And you're still worrying," she replied, her tone light but carrying an edge of fondness. "I told you, it's nothing I can't handle. You've seen worse, haven't you?"

"Not on you!" I shot back, hugging the bunny tighter. "You're not supposed to get hurt."

Sevika sighed, the kind of tired, heavy sigh that made her seem older than she was. "That's not how it works, kid. You live in Zaun, you fight. Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose, and sometimes you end up with a hole in your leg."

"That doesn't mean it's okay," I mumbled, kicking at a loose piece of debris on the ground.

She glanced down at me, her lips quirking into a faint smile. "You're stubborn, you know that?"

"Learned from the best," I muttered.

That earned a quiet chuckle from her. She reached out and ruffled my hair again, softer this time. "Come on. Let's get you something sweet before you keel over from all that righteous anger."

I didn't argue, but as we made our way down the winding streets of Zaun, I couldn't stop glancing at her leg, at the way her gait faltered every so often.

Our final stop was a little stall tucked into a corner, its neon sign flickering faintly. The man behind the counter gave Sevika a knowing look, but she waved him off before ordering for both of us.

The ice cream was strange, smoky and sweet with a tangy aftertaste that I couldn't quite place. Sevika ate hers quickly, as if the pain in her leg wasn't worth slowing down for, while I savored mine in silence, my mind still racing.

By the time we got home, the adrenaline had worn off, leaving me heavy with exhaustion and worry. As Sevika limped toward the couch, I hesitated before speaking. "You'll be okay, right?"

She paused, looking over her shoulder at me. "Of course, little rocket." Her voice was softer now, her usual sharpness replaced with something gentler. "You don't need to worry so much. I'm tougher than I look."

I gave a small nod, clutching my bunny tighter. But even as she settled onto the couch with a groan, I couldn't shake the knot in my chest. Someone had hurt her—and I didn't know if I could ever let that go.

By the time my parents returned, I was back in my pink dress, bunny in hand, the picture of an innocent little girl with not a care in the world. They asked about my day, and I smiled, nodding along to their questions, giving vague, sweet answers that made them smile. No one suspected a thing.

But that night, lying in bed, my thoughts churned like a stormy sea.

The ceiling above me was cracked and uneven, the kind of thing I'd never paid much attention to before. Now, I stared at it, unblinking, as my mind raced.

I couldn't keep doing this—living in the background, pretending everything was fine while I let life just... happen. Seeing Vi, Powder, and Vander today had ignited something in me—a determination I hadn't felt in years.

I couldn't be just another bystander in this story. Not anymore.

Vi would be fifteen when it all began. Powder, eleven. And me? I'd be thirteen. Still a kid, but old enough to make a difference. That robbery was the spark, the beginning of the end. If I could stop it—change the course of events—maybe... just maybe... I could rewrite everything.

But it wasn't just about them. Not anymore. The rage I felt earlier when I saw Sevika, bloodied and bruised, lingered like a hot coal in my chest. Someone had hurt her. Someone thought they could get away with it.

I gritted my teeth.

Not on my watch.

I didn't know who they were yet, but I would find out. And when I did, I'd make them regret it. The thought burned in my mind, and I let it linger, savoring the image of them squirming. Maybe I'd rough them up myself, or maybe I'd set their ass on fire. The picture of flames creeping up their legs flashed vividly in my head, and for a moment, I smiled—a sharp, satisfied curl of my lips.

Then my smile faded. How would I even rough them up? I rolled onto my side, my fingers gripping the blanket as doubt clawed at the edges of my anger. I wasn't exactly built for a brawl. My strength wasn't in my fists—it never had been. But not everything was about muscle. Smarts could get me where brute force couldn't.

I could be sneaky. Clever. First, I'd need to find them. My mind raced with ideas. I could hang around alleys, listen to conversations, pick up on whispers of their names or their movements. It wouldn't be easy, but it was a start. Then there was the matter of getting out of the house. I'd have to figure out how to slip away without drawing my mom's suspicion—no small task given how much she hovered lately.

I sighed, staring at the faint shadows on the ceiling. As much as I wanted to act now, the pit in my stomach reminded me of the harsh truth. Five years. That's how long I had. Five years to prepare, to figure out how to make my mark without unraveling everything else in the process. Five years to ensure that when the time came, I'd be ready.

But the thought didn't bring me comfort. It felt like a timer ticking down, every second pushing me closer to something I couldn't fully understand yet. I balled my fists, frustration simmering just below the surface. I wouldn't let the years slip by without a plan. They'd pay for what they'd done. It didn't matter how long it took.

The thought was daunting. I wasn't some action hero. I was a kid—a kid with too much knowledge of the future and not nearly enough power to change it. Yet.

I sighed, the sound bouncing off the walls of my small room. From downstairs, the clatter of pans and the soft hum of my mother's voice drifted up, a familiar melody that should've been comforting. Instead, it felt... off.

She was probably making something overly sweet again. Banana bread, banana muffins, banana whatever. I wasn't in the mood for banana anything.

I sprawled on my bed, bunny tucked under my arm, staring at the cracked ceiling as I pieced together fragments of a plan. My parents just thought I was an introvert, content to live in my little bubble. They didn't know how wrong they were.

No, I wasn't content. I was plotting.

"Grace!" my mom's voice floated up the stairs, warm and cheerful. "I made a treat for you!"

I groaned softly, rolling onto my side. I could already smell it—the sticky-sweet aroma of bananas and sugar wafting through the air. For a moment, I considered pretending to be asleep, but the sound of her footsteps on the stairs made that impossible.

She appeared in my doorway, her hands dusted with flour, a smile on her face that didn't quite reach her eyes. "I made banana cookies. Your favorite."

I sat up, smoothing down my dress. "I'm not really hungry, thanks."

Her smile faltered, just for a second. "Not even one?"

"I'm fine, really."

She hesitated, then walked into the room, brushing a stray curl from my face. "You've been up here all afternoon. What did you and Sevika get up to today?"

I shrugged, clutching my bunny tighter. "The usual."

"The usual," she repeated, her tone light but with an edge I couldn't ignore. She searched my face, hesitated, then straightened, brushing a stray hair from her cheek. "Your father was supposed to be home by now?"

I frowned, the tension in the air unmistakable. "He's late again?" I rolled onto my side, staring at the far wall. "Not exactly a surprise." My voice came out sharper than I intended.

She lingered, her fingers tugging at the hem of her apron. "I'm… not sure anymore," she said, quieter now, the words almost slipping out.

I glanced at her, catching the crease in her brow, the way her shoulders seemed smaller somehow. She looked like she wanted to say something—probably the usual excuse about how busy he was—but she stayed silent.