KILLIN' ME

Silence hung heavy in the Bastion, broken only by the ragged breaths of the Clan as they tried to collect themselves. The mission was over. They had barely made it out. And now...

Myst stood at the center of it all, shoulders tense, fists clenched at her sides. Exhaustion clawed at her, but the weight of their stares was worse than any wound.

Razor was the first to break the silence. His voice was steady, controlled but sharp enough to cut. "We told you to stay. Why didn't you listen?"

His boots echoed against the concrete as he stepped closer. Myst flinched, but she held her ground. "Because I had to be there."

Blaze exhaled sharply, his frustration visible like a live wire. He ripped off his gloves, throwing them to the ground. "What the hell were you thinking?" His voice was rough, loud. "You almost got yourself killed—got us killed!"

She swallowed hard, but before she could respond, Echo let out a sharp, humorless snort. "Oh, come on, Blaze, you know how it is. Stubborn and always headfirst into shit. That's what she is."

The smirk on his face didn't reach his eyes as he glance at her. His jaw was tight, his body still wired from the fight. "You thought you'd just sneak in, tail us like a ghost, and what? Wait for the perfect moment to jump in like some hero?"

Myst clenched her jaw, his words hitting deeper than she wanted to admit. "I was trying to help."

Shade scoffed, arms crossed. There was no warmth in his voice, only cold fact. "You triggered the alarm, Myst." He met her gaze, unflinching. "That was you. Was that help?"

She pressed her lips together, her throat burning. She knew. She fucking knew. But hearing it laid out so plainly still stung.

Nyx, who had been silent until now, finally spoke. His voice was calmer, but his eyes flickered with restrained emotion. "We understand why you did it. But you have to understand why we're pissed. You didn't trust us to handle it. You acted like you were the only one who could make a difference."

That hit differently. Myst's shoulders tensed. "That's not what I—"

"Isn't it?" Nyx's gaze softened, but his words didn't. "You didn't think we could handle it without you."

She wanted to argue. To tell them that wasn't the reason. But was it? The truth tangled in her thoughts, twisted in her ribs.

Cipher knelt beside her, already pulling open a medical kit. "What's done is done," he muttered, voice quieter than the others. "Stop yelling. We're all exhausted."

He was already scanning for injuries, fingers brushing over bruises and torn fabric. "You're damn lucky you're not worse off."

Myst winced at the contact but didn't pull away. She felt raw—like any more words might split her apart completely.

She let out a shaky breath, forcing herself to blink back the burn in her eyes. Not here. Not now.

Flux hadn't said a word. He stood slightly apart, lighting a cigarette with slow, quiet movements. His eyes flickered toward her, just for a second, before he exhaled smoke and looked away.

She hated that. Hated that he wouldn't even speak.

Flux didn't hold back when he was angry—unless he knew his words would break her. 

Myst inhaled sharply, forcing the words out before they could strangle her. "I get it." Her voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. "I fucked up. I know that."

No one denied it.

Myst exhaled shakily, shoving past Cipher's hands as she steadied herself. Her legs were trembling, her body screaming for rest, but she didn't stop. Her hands quivered at her sides, fists curling as if she could hold the emotions in.

"Okay?" Her voice wavered. "I'm sorry."

The words barely made it out.

A heavy silence settled over them again. The argument was over, but the tension lingered, thick in the air.

Cipher packed up the medical kit. "We should rest. We're no good to each other like this."

One by one, they started to pull away, each lost in their own exhaustion, their own thoughts. Myst didn't move for a long time, not until the last of them had gone.

Only then did she let the tears spill over.