LIAR

Mikey stared down at her, heart thudding so loudly it felt like it might echo off the rooftops. There was something unmistakable swirling in his chest—warm, electric, impossible to name but undeniably real.

She was still looking up at him, eyes wide and unblinking. The kind of gaze that made time feel like it had slipped into slow motion.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

The glow of the holographic whale cast shifting shades of blue and pink across her face, catching in the edges of her dark hair. She looked like something out of a dream—no, not a dream. She was too real for that. She was standing here, holding his hand.

Mikey's breath caught in his throat. His eyes flicked down—from her eyes to her lips—then back again. His body moved before his brain caught up, drawn toward her like a magnet he didn't know was inside him.

He leaned in, slow, uncertain, but pulled forward by the sheer gravity of the moment.

His eyes slipped shut. Lips parted.

And for the first time in his life, he was about to kiss someone not because he felt like he was supposed to…

…but because everything in him told him he wanted to.

She leaned in with him, their faces just inches apart, breath mingling, time suspended like the city lights below them.

But then—right before their lips could meet—she froze.

Her eyes snapped open, wide with realization, like a thought had crashed into her mind mid-motion. In a breathless stammer, she pulled away, stepping back as if she'd just remembered where she was.

"I can't. I can't," she muttered, shaking her head. "God, I'm such an idiot. This isn't why I'm here."

Her voice was barely more than a whisper, like she was arguing with herself more than him.

Mikey blinked, stunned, his heart still caught somewhere in midair. He opened his eyes fully, breath hitching.

"Whoa, whoa... I'm sorry if I—"

But she cut him off, raising a hand, still backing away slightly. "No, it's not you—I mean, it is you, but not in that way..."

Her fingers rubbed at her temples, eyes darting as if trying to unscramble thoughts that didn't want to stay still. She looked overwhelmed, like something bigger than either of them had just slipped between them.

Mikey stayed quiet, not sure if stepping forward would fix things… or make them worse.

"What did you mean by 'this isn't why I'm here'?"

Mikey's voice cut through the air, quiet but sharp, laced with confusion. Nadia didn't answer immediately. She blinked a few times, her brows furrowed as she rubbed her temples, still pacing like her thoughts were sprinting faster than her words.

Mikey took a few steps back toward the ledge, eyes still locked on her. He bent down, scooping up the implant from the rooftop's edge. The holographic whale flickered and vanished in a shower of dissolving neon, leaving the sky bare again. With a soft hiss, the device clicked back into his temple. His expression was different now—no longer dreamy, just clouded.

"Nadia," he said more firmly, stepping toward her again, "why are you here? Why… why did you bring me here?"

She stopped pacing. Stared at the ground. Her shoulders rose with a deep inhale, and her lips trembled slightly on the exhale.

"I… It's complicated," she muttered. "God, I screwed this up. I should've told you before any of this happened."

She sounded like she was scolding herself, like the rooftop moment, the laughter, the whale—maybe even the almost-kiss—were all mistakes she was trying to erase.

"Told me what?" Mikey's voice cracked, frustration breaking through. He wasn't used to feeling vulnerable like this—never let anyone close enough to hurt him. And now his heart felt like it was caught in some kind of trap, twisting in a way he didn't expect.

"Why did you bring me up here?" he asked again, louder this time.

"To warn you!" she blurted out.

Mikey froze.

His weight shifted back instinctively, like her words had struck him physically. His brows pulled together, trying to piece it all together—but it didn't make sense.

"To warn me?" he echoed, voice lowering with disbelief. "Warn me about what?"

Nadia took a shaky breath and steeled herself. Her fingers hesitated at the hem of her sleeve, and for a moment, Mikey thought she might change her mind. But then, slowly, deliberately, she pulled it up to her elbow.

Mikey's stomach dropped.

There—burned into the pale skin of her forearm—was a mark he knew all too well. A jagged, horseshoe-shaped "U" with a sharp blade splitting through the center, twisting it into a crude, violent-looking "W."

His breath caught.

The symbol of the Defectors.

The silence between them was deafening. For a long second, all Mikey could do was stare, his face draining of color. He took an instinctive step back, his hands half-raised like the mark itself might strike him.

"No…" he whispered. His voice was low, frayed. "You're… you're one of them."

The words barely left his mouth, but they echoed between them with finality. Nadia didn't speak. She didn't need to. The brand did all the talking.

And Mikey? His world began to tilt. A storm of emotion hit him at once—shock, betrayal, confusion, fear—fighting to rise through the haze clouding his thoughts.

His heart, which only moments ago was trying to give itself to her, now hung in limbo.

Nadia opened her mouth, her voice trembling under a thin veneer of control. "Yes… I'm one of them. But Mikey, I—"

Mikey snapped.

"No wonder I didn't recognize you at graduation," he barked, cutting her off. "I know every damn face at that academy! And you—how the hell did I miss it? God, how am I so stupid?!"

He paced like a live wire, hands clutching his hair, tugging at the roots. Panic. Rage. Heartbreak.

"You're a goddamn spy!" he shouted, spinning toward her. "And I almost kissed you! Shit!"

Nadia flinched. Her hand lifted, shaking slightly as if to reach out and pull him back from the edge. "Mikey, I—"

"Save it!" he snapped again, louder this time. His voice cracked, the pain cutting through the anger. "You know, I really thought you liked me."

His breath caught in his throat, chest rising and falling in short bursts. "I was starting to like you too… like really like you. But no. It was all a ploy, wasn't it?"

He stepped closer, finger pointed like an accusation. "My dad's the Vice Secretary of Defense. That's what this was. That's why you brought me up here. You were just trying to get inside. Get Council secrets out of me, huh?!"

His voice echoed off the rooftop, mingling with the wind and the faint thump of music far below. All that magic—her laugh, her eyes, that almost-kiss—collapsed under the weight of suspicion.

And Nadia stood there, frozen in guilt, branded by more than the mark on her arm.

Little did they know—they weren't alone.

Just behind the rooftop door, Cal Drexler, of all people, crouched low. His short frame was barely concealed, one eye peeking through the crack. His face had drained of all color, lips parted in silent disbelief. The word "Defector" hit his ears like a bullet.

Back on the rooftop, Mikey was still unraveling.

"You used me," he muttered, voice cracking as he turned away, practically stumbling.

But Nadia's voice cut through. "Your dad is what I'm here to warn you about!"

Mikey froze mid-step. He turned, eyes wild. "What the hell are you talking about?!"

She swallowed hard, steadying herself. "I'm surprised he hasn't told you yet…"

"Mikey… your dad is a Defector."

The words hit him like a gut punch.

His jaw clenched. "You're lying," he said, voice rising. "He's the Vice Secretary of Defense!"

"That's just his cover!" she snapped. "He's been working on the inside for years. And he's in trouble. Payne Morrison knows. He knows everything."

Mikey blinked. Once. Twice. He looked like the floor beneath him had cracked open.

"You're out of your mind," he hissed. "Whatever—you're just a damn terrorist."

He brushed past her, ready to leave her in the wind.

But she grabbed his arm, desperate now. "Mikey—please. Just listen. Our communication lines went dark. I can't reach my people. I can't warn him. You're the only one who can."

He hesitated. Didn't look at her yet—but didn't pull away either.

"I didn't come here for this originally," she said, breath hitching. "My mission… it was just to get intel on the Academy. That's it. I didn't even know about your dad until recently."

She stepped closer, softer now. "But you—us—what happened tonight… I meant it. All of it."

Mikey finally turned. His eyes were fire and heartbreak all at once.

"I don't even know your name," he said quietly.

She nodded slowly. "My name isn't Nadia. It's—"

He didn't let her finish.

"I don't care," he said, voice low and trembling. "Leave me alone."

He shook her hand off his arm, and walked away without looking back. 

At least for a second—everything was still.

Then came the roar.

Aircrafts thundered overhead, slicing through the night. Massive spotlights erupted from above, bathing the rooftop in blinding white light.

Mikey's heart jumped into his throat.

Black ropes dropped down like snakes, and Council soldiers repelled onto the rooftop—six of them, clad in obsidian armor, red trim gleaming like blood. Their faces were hidden behind polished, chrome-black helmets that gave away nothing.

Nadia whipped around, eyes flashing in panic. Her gaze snapped to Mikey.

"What did you do?!" she shouted over the roar. "Did you call them?!"

Mikey stumbled back, arms raised. "No! I—I swear—"

"You did this!" she snapped, voice cracking as fear twisted into rage. "Why would you—?"

Before she could finish, a soldier lunged forward and clamped a gloved hand over her mouth.

Her scream was muffled.

But she didn't go quietly.

With a furious grunt, Nadia jammed her hand into her jacket and whipped out a sleek silver handle. A high-pitched shhhhkt followed as a metallic blade extended in a flash—and with one clean motion, she plunged it into the soldier's neck.

Blood sprayed.

The man dropped.

Mikey stood frozen, breath shallow, eyes wide.

Another soldier dropped in behind her, this one armed with a high-tension net gun. A loud thwip! cracked through the air and wrapped around her like a constrictor. She hit the ground hard, arms and legs tangled.

"NO!" she yelled, thrashing violently. Her hand reached for the knife—but another boot came crashing down on her arm. She cried out in pain.

The blade skidded across the rooftop… and stopped at Mikey's feet.

He just stared at it.

The partygoers—at least two dozen of them—had burst through the rooftop door by now, their faces painted in neon and curiosity. Cheers turned to gasps. Disgusted whispers rolled through the crowd like a wave.

"She's a Defector…"

"God, I knew she looked shady…"

"Traitor."

Mikey still hadn't moved.

Nadia lay trapped in the net, bruised, panting, eyes locked on him.

There was a fire in her expression. Anger. Desperation. A silent question behind the glare:

Are you going to help me? Or are you going to leave me like the rest?

And Mikey—staring back, shattered by guilt and confusion—didn't know the answer.

The cables yanked taut.

The soldiers ascended fast, vanishing into the blinding glow of the aircraft above with Nadia thrashing in their grip. She kicked, twisted, shouted into the wind—but it was no use. She disappeared into the night sky, swallowed by the machines. Her fate sealed.

Mikey stood frozen.

His breath caught. His heart raced.

He looked down.

The blade.

It lay there, glinting cold against the concrete.

He knelt slowly, picked it up with trembling hands. The handle was still warm. He turned it over once, then slipped it into his pocket like it burned his skin.

And then—

"Mikey..."

A voice.

He turned, sharp and instinctive.

Cal Drexler stood near the rooftop door, pale and shaking, phone still in his hand.

"I-I didn't mean to—I didn't know she was really—"

But Mikey was already storming toward him.

"—a Defector?" Cal stammered.

CRACK.

Mikey's fist slammed into Cal's jaw, sending him stumbling back against the wall. The phone clattered to the floor.

Mikey grabbed Cal by the collar and shoved him hard into the concrete, eyes wild.

"You called them!" he shouted, cocking his fist again.

But something in his mind held him back.

His arm hung frozen in the air.

Why am I doing this? She's a Defector… she lied to me. She used me. Played me. So why the hell am I so mad?

He let go.

Cal slumped down, dazed and gasping.

All around, the crowd stared—silent now. No music. Just the low hum of the departing aircraft and the dull thud of his pulse in his ears.

Mikey turned away.

He looked up.

The ships were just distant dots now, disappearing beyond the skyline.

He clenched his jaw, fury simmering just beneath the surface. Not at Cal. Not at Nadia. Not even at himself.

At him.

At the man who raised him.

He shoved through the rooftop exit and bounded down the stairs, breath ragged, footsteps echoing down the stairwell.

He needed answers.

He needed to talk to his father.

Now.