I woke up clutching the jade cocoon in my hand. My body was sore, but my ribs were no longer broken. I got up slowly.
Half of my armor was already off, making it easy to strip off the rest. I made my way to the shower. It was homemade—barely functional—and only ran cold water.
I didn't waste time. I never do. Once I was out, I dried off, threw on some decent clothes, and set my armor back on its stand.
I glanced at the jade cocoon resting on my desk.
"So… still not ready to talk to me?" I muttered.
Silence. Then—Ping!
"Hey, I'm excited for tonight." —Wren
"Oh yeah. I almost forgot. I should be getting ready." —Me
"Can't wait to see you, Nate." —Wren
I smiled. Then looked around The Lantern.
There was an old box tucked under one of the crates—my dad's old clothes. I dug through it and found a black button-down shirt, dark tailored jeans, and polished black boots. I cleaned up, did my hair—short, jet-black, mullet-style—and gave myself a once-over in the mirror. Not bad.
I walked over to the far side of the hideout. Two bikes. My armored mothcycle… and my everyday ride: a matte black Honda CB650R.
Tonight felt like a CB night.
I grabbed two helmets, tossed on my leather jacket, and rode out.
⸻
When I pulled up to Wren's place, she was already waiting outside. So was her dad.
I parked and approached, extending my hand.
"Hello, sir. I'm Nate. It's nice to meet you."
He shook my hand firmly. "None of that 'sir' nonsense. Call me Caleb."
"Okay—Caleb. Sorry, I'm used to calling people of higher status 'sir.'"
"Oh yeah? And why's that?"
"I was in the Army."
"What division?"
"75th Ranger Regiment. Sergeant."
Caleb gave a low whistle. "Special Operations, huh?"
"Oh, nothing special about it. Just did my job."
He looked me over. "Well, Nate… I like you so far. But if you hurt my daughter, I will kill you."
"Dad!" Wren snapped.
I smiled. "That's fair. You're just looking out for her. I respect that."
Wren groaned. "Okay! Enough bonding, let's go."
She pulled me away toward the bike.
"I like him," I said.
"So, is this date for me or my dad?" she teased.
"All you."
I handed her a helmet and buckled it under her chin.
"If I'd known we were riding this thing, I wouldn't have worn a dress."
She wore a dark green wrap dress with a subtle floral texture, black heeled ankle boots, and a gold moth pendant. It was like… she knew. Or maybe she just has good taste.
I fired up the bike. She held onto me tight.
For a second, I wished I never had to go back to the mask. Maybe… someday, I won't have to.
⸻
We pulled up to Lucca di Notte, a cozy upscale Italian spot tucked near downtown.
"I know this place. It's impossible to get a table here," Wren said.
"Not unless you know the owner," I replied.
Right on cue, Vincent "Vince" Moretti came out the front door, arms wide.
"IT'S THE KID!"
He hugged me like I'd been gone for ten years. "Look at you! You look sharp. And this girl—how beautiful is she?!"
A slap landed on the back of his head.
"She's too young for you," scolded Rosalie, Vince's wife.
"Oh, Nate! It's good to see you, boy." She kissed my cheek.
"Woman! You can't just slap a man with a bad heart!"
Rosalie rolled her eyes. "You've had that 'bad heart' for fifteen years. Yesterday you said you wanted to get back into boxing. Bad heart, my ass."
They were exactly how I remembered them—warm, chaotic, full of love. Just like my mom used to be.
"You still making the meatballs the same way?" I asked.
"For you? Always."
"Come on," Rosalie said. "We'll seat you at your mom's table."
It was the best seat in the house—near the window, candles lit. A plaque on it read:
Isabella Moretti-Ward
I froze. My chest tightened.
"Yeah… we had it made a few months ago," Vince said softly.
"She would've loved it. Thank you," I told him.
"No need to thank me. It felt right. Only family sits here. That includes your date. So what's her name?"
"This is Wren Calder."
"It's nice to meet you both," Wren said politely.
Vince squinted. "Calder… why do I know that name?"
"Oh my god," Rosalie said. "Her dad did the very first review of the restaurant!"
"That's right!" Vince laughed. "Girl, that makes you family."
Wren grinned. "Was it a good review?"
"Oh hell yeah, it was."
Dinner flew by. We talked. We laughed.
Then Wren leaned in.
"You don't talk much about your mom and dad."
"I know. It's just… a lot. And we haven't really been in a good place to talk about it."
"You don't have to say anything if you don't want to."
"It's not that. Sometimes, it's just easier to show people what they meant to me than say it."
"They must have meant a lot."
"They did. My mom opened this place with my uncle. They built it together. Then she was taken from us."
"Killed?" she whispered.
I nodded. "Yeah. I was a kid. After that, the state wouldn't let my uncle take me in. So I was on my own—until I found my brothers in the Army. And now I have you. So… thank you, Wren. For putting up with me."
She smiled, eyes soft. "Of course, Nate. I lo—"
She stopped herself.
Then asked, "Am I your girlfriend?"
"Wait, are you not?"
"Well… most guys ask first."
"Oh. My bad. Do you want to be my girlfriend?"
"I would love to, Nate Ward."
I leaned in to kiss her—
"NATE!" Vince appeared, breaking the moment. "There's someone here I want you to meet. Real sharp guy."
A tall man in a tailored suit stepped forward, calm and confident.
"This is Mr. Roth Vex."
My heart stopped. My mouth went dry.
Of all the people in the city… of all the nights…
Roth Vex just smiled.
And I knew—this night wasn't over.