"James! James!"

The voice was unmistakably Australian—tight vowels, scratchy with urgency. I groaned and rolled under the sheets, barely registering it until a hand yanked me over with a force that jolted me awake.

"Oi, wake up, mate!"

Fingers jabbed into my side. I shot upright, heart hammering, sweat clinging to my skin like a second shirt. The room was drenched in a weird purple glow for half a second, then gone.

Two figures—one hooded, face hidden—the other watching from the corner like a ghost in tactical gear.

"Son of a bitch," I hissed, instinct taking over as I launched forward. My shoulder slammed the kid against the wall.

He put his hands up fast. "Whoa, easy! Chill, mate—I'm not here to start nothin'!"

His accent cut through the adrenaline haze—soft, coastal. I blinked, and the panic cracked just enough to register his face beneath the mask. Young. Cautious. Scared, even. My grip loosened.

"You're strong," he muttered, rubbing his neck and brushing his hoodie.

"Yeah? Good to know. Who the hell are you?" I snapped, squinting at him. He was my height, maybe a bit taller. Deep brown eyes. That stupid mask made it hard to tell... Noah or Max?

"Bloody hell," he muttered, half laughing. "You lot have trust issues, don't ya? I'm just gonna hand over my name 'cause you look angry?"

He smirked like he had a secret. Ruined the whole fragile moment.

I slammed him back into the wall—harder this time.

He grunted. "Alright, alright—settle down!" Hands went up again.

"What do you want?" I growled. My fist tightened, ready to swing.

"Relax, mate. You hit me, I'm still not tellin' you, Jack." He ducked his head as I drew back, half-shielding his face.

That's when we both heard the footsteps—heavy ones. Sam.

The boy glanced toward the door, then moved fast. He swept my legs out with one fluid kick, knocking me to the ground with a solid thud.

"Cheers for the wake-up," he said halfway through the window. He turned, a crooked grin on his face beneath the brim of his hoodie.

"I'll see you around, Knight."

And then he was gone—vanished into the night.

Sam rounded the corner a heartbeat later, gun half-raised.

Too late.

Sam burst into the room just as the wind from the open window settled. His gun was drawn, his expression tight.

"You alright?" he asked, eyes scanning the space before landing on me, sprawled on the floor.

I took his outstretched hand and pulled myself up, chest still heaving from the adrenaline. I stared at the window where the masked boy had escaped.

"Yeah," I muttered, running a hand through my damp hair. "I should've killed him when I had the chance."

Sam looked at me sharply, his voice calm but firm. "You know killing him won't solve our problems," he said.

I didn't answer—the weight of what could've happened hung in the air like fog.

Sam stepped closer. "You don't want to live with the guilt of having killed—" He stopped himself, hesitation flickering across his face.

"Whatever," I muttered.

He sighed, changing the subject. "I'll drive you to the mall. Matthew and Derek had an emergency meeting this morning. You've been holed up too long. It might be good for you to get out, breathe, and look normal."

"Fuck," I muttered, still staring at the window.

"You've got ten minutes, James," Sam added, already heading for the door. "Act like a teenager for once."

He tapped his watch before disappearing down the hall.

∆∆∆

The mall was the last damn place you'd expect to find me, but there I was—propped against the glass of some deserted boutique, sharing melted cookie dough ice cream with Derek like we didn't have a world of secrets to hide.

"So... those new guys in chem? Pretty sure they're supers," I muttered, licking a trail of vanilla off my thumb.

Derek narrowed his eyes, crunching into his mint-chip cone like an animal. "Huh? What makes you say that?"

"They showed up outta nowhere. And their accents? Australian. Same as that powered guy who wrecked the gym last week."

He shrugged. "You don't have proof."

"Nope. But my gut's yelling at me. Loudly."

"Well, then maybe you should listen to it," Derek said, mouth full of ice cream. "Might be your 'Spidey sense' kicking in."

I rolled my eyes. "Don't ever say that again."

Before he could argue, a shrieking alarm went off from down the corridor. We spun around to see glass explode out of a jewelry store. A guy in a full-face mask walked out holding a loaded duffel, a pistol in one hand.

"Stay where ya are—or I'll put a fuckin' hole in someone's skull!" he shouted.

His accent hit hard. Australian. Thick. No way it was a coincidence.

Derek flinched. "Son of a bitch."

We ditched our cones in the trash and locked eyes.

"You go," I said, pulling my hoodie up.

"You've got the powers, you go," he shot back.

I didn't argue. I pushed off the ground and floated silently above the mall's second level. Down below, the robber was helping himself to gold chains and diamond rings. The clerks were huddled behind the counter. Nearby shoppers did what American civilians always do—pulling out their phones and recording like this, a TikTok trend.

"Hands in the air!" Derek called, gun out.

The robber turned lazily. "Ya really wanna play hero, mate?"

With a flick of his fingers, the gun tore from Derek's hands and zipped across the store, landing in the robber's grip.

"Oh hell no," I muttered. "Telekinetic."

He floated off the ground like it was nothing. My heart started hammering. Great—he could fly, too.

"Well, well," he said, spotting me hovering across from him. "Didn't expect another flyer. Not in this little corner of the world."

"Put the gun down," I ordered, voice steady.

He just smirked, aimed past me, and fired.

My instincts took over. I dove down, intercepting the bullet. It slammed into my chest and flattened with a sharp crack, bouncing off like a snapped bottle cap. I hit the ground hard, gasping.

"It's been a while since I've done that," I wheezed, brushing off debris as I stood.

The guy descended smoothly, boots touching down like he owned the place. Then his eyes met mine, and something shifted.

"Stand up, James."

My blood turned to ice. "What did you just say?"

"Stand. Up," he repeated, harsher. "Go ahead and ask your dear ol' dad about me."

That voice—cold, sharp. He knew me.

I raised my hands, heart pounding. "Alright. Easy."

"Derek, too," he barked.

Derek crossed his arms, clearly over it. "Screw that."

The Aussie turned his gun toward the clerks again.

"Hey, leave them out of this," I snapped.

He spun back to me. "You wanna die, kid?"

My mouth stayed shut. Didn't need to tempt fate again.

The clerk behind the counter suddenly reached under and hit a silent panic button. The blare of a triggered alarm followed the soundless alert.

"Aw, piss off," the robber snarled. He clicked the gun, stepping closer.

"Wanna fuckin' die today?!" he shouted at me.

He was stronger than Noah, more violent than Max. This wasn't some wannabe with powers—this guy had done time in the big leagues.

And he wasn't playing games.

I bolted forward and crashed into him midair. We slammed through the glass railing and tumbled down three floors, smashing into a decorative fountain below. Shards of tile and metal clanged around us.

The gun lay beside us, busted to hell.

The guy growled and rolled to his knees. "Bloody hell, you're a pain in my ass."

I stood, panting. "Should've neutralized you when I had the chance."

Cops stormed in. Guns were drawn.

My dad led the charge. "Hands up!" he barked.

But every cop there pointed their guns... at me.

I raised my hands. "You've gotta be kidding me."

Dad hesitated, then yelled, "Stand down! That's my—" He stopped mid-sentence, his eyes peeling toward mine in silence.

The weapons shifted away just in time for Derek to catch up and slide to a stop beside the rest of the officers.

"Where's your brother?" Dad snapped. His eyes snapped in my direction again, and I knew he knew it was me under the hoodie. Then his eyes darted away.

Derek gave me a subtle look, then turned back. "I dunno. I lost him in the chaos."

"Find him."

More officers tackled the Aussie. One muttered, "He's a super."

All eyes landed on me again.

"Well... I think that's my cue," I said, lifting off.

Gasps erupted. Phones came out. Flashes flickered from every direction.

I caught one last look from Dad—his expression unreadable—as I zipped upward, breaking through the sliding doors and into the open sky.