You're probably wondering what came next.
The Spire went dark. No statements. No PR spin. No damage control.
And Titania?
She vanished.
No dramatic last stand. No surprise attack. Just... gone.
Boring, I know.
But I knew where she went.
Of course I did.
---
She always goes there when she's conflicted—Unit 7. Top floor gym. Private. Soundproof. Surrounded by training bots that can't talk back.
The same room we trained in years ago.
The same one where I used to tease her mercilessly.
Push her too far. Get too close.
Say the kind of things that made her stumble in her footwork and curse under her breath.
Back then, she wore her armor like a wall.
Now?
She wasn't wearing much at all.
---
Her fists slammed into the training dummy.
Again and again and again.
Sweat slicked her golden skin, hair tied back in a perfect ponytail, body carved like something sculpted out of divine frustration.
But her eyes weren't on the bot.
They were on the monitor behind it—muted footage of me.
Me.
Casually saving a bus full of kids by flipping the entire highway over the flood zone.
Cassie's footage, of course. Stylized. Slow motion. Zoomed in on the abs.
(Thanks, babe.)
Titania bit her lip hard.
Her breathing hitched—not from the workout, from the conflict.
She hated this, she hated me
But she couldn't stop watching.
---
She's always wanted me since day one.
Since I pulled her out of a collapsing simulation during training, winked, and said, "Guess you owe me dinner now."
She rolled her eyes and said she'd rather eat glass but I caught her looking at me three times that day.
And every day after that.
---
She told herself I was a flirt. A danger. A distraction.
She was right, letting me in would ruin her. I would turn her world upside down.
Make her forget every code, every vow, every chain she ever wrapped around herself to stay "good."
Because with me? There are no chains, there's only freedom and she craved it.
Even now.
---
She fell back on the mat, chest heaving, gaze still locked on the screen. The training dummy stood smoldering and headless beside her.
Her hand brushed down her side. Not touching. Just thinking.
Just imagining.
The line between fantasy and memory was so thin, it might as well have broken.
---
She hated Lilith, despised Nova and if Cassie got hit by a flying bus tomorrow, she wouldn't shed a single tear.
Because Titania? She wanted me all to herself.
No competition. No distractions. Just us—as if we ever were an us
And the worst part?
She still thought she was better than them.
Hotter than Nova, stronger than Lilith.
Not quite Cassie—Cassie was Cassie, and everyone knew it—but Titania didn't need to be the prettiest.
She needed to be mine.
---
And of course, I knew.
I always knew.
She bites her lip when I talk.
Just slightly. Just enough.
The others never notice but I do.
I always do.
Because I watch her, too, not like the others, not like Cassie's voyeur-lens.
More like…
Something deeper.
The kind of watching that makes me wonder—if I really pushed, if I said the right thing at the right time, how fast would she fall?
The answer?
She wouldn't fall.
She'd leap.
And she knows it.
---
Later that night, while the city buzzed with whispers of her betrayal, she stood on her apartment balcony.
Wind in her hair, eyes on the skyline.
On me.
Because she knew I was out there, somewhere.
Waiting.
---
Her communicator buzzed.
Valor.
But she didn't answer. She was too busy watching one of Cassie's live replays.
Another close-up of me tearing through an entire squad of armored drones like they were wet paper.
Titania exhaled—sharp. Frustrated.
Her nails dug into her palm.
The screen flickered as I turned, winked at the camera, and said:
> "You're either with me… or behind me."
She whispered something.
Something she wouldn't even admit to herself.
Just one word, my name and in that moment, she didn't feel like a hero.
She felt like a woman one heartbeat away from surrender.
---
To be continued...