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JUST ANOTHER COLD NIGHT.

It was icy outside, but warm in the Williamsburg warehouse-turned-punk-venue. Blue seemed to have an affinity for these little dive places. Part of her wondered if this was his scene, or if he was gathering them in places that no one would ever suspect.

The low thrum of a song reverberated through the air; an erratic beat drifted to meet them on the upper floor. Someone started to sing, in a low lull, a serenade of another fucking heartbreak.

It took everything in her not to roll her eyes. When would the whiny bullshit phase of music end?

"Star."

"Yeah," she murmured breathlessly, shaking off the dull sounds to face the right group of people. Seven sets of eyes narrowed in on her. "What? What's up?"

Blue placed a hand on her waist. "We're talking about what Vegas and Cadillac are going to do." Even beneath the faint music, she could easily find that sliver of amusement in his voice. "Yeah?"

Her gaze wandered up to Vegas, and she paused, indulging in a moment of perfection. There was something effortlessly cool about his posture, leaning against the wall with a Modelo in his hand, one foot kicked back, one hand in his pocket... a curtain of light and smoke concealing a secretive smile.

"Right."

"They have this... plan," Blue mused in her ear, almost too soft, almost too taunting, almost too fucking cold.

Her throat tightened. A plan. Cadillac met her gaze, dark eyes flashing with a warning. "Yeah," she said. "About the crane."

"Mmm." Blue snickered. "Yeah. We've got a lead on the crane, but I'm just curious."

When he was curious, Blue was dangerous.

Instinctively, she sought out Vans. They didn't have that unspoken language; they weren't fluent in silent motions and subtle looks. Vans simply stared at her.

Fuck. What did he say to Blue? Did he say anything?

Fingers dug into her hip, and she shifted uncomfortably, finally giving Blue her full attention. "What? What's wrong?"

"Well," he drawled teasingly, "when you three came up with this plan, how did you imagine you'd sneak a crane into Rockefeller Plaza on Christmas Eve?"

Blue made it sound fucking crazy. Her head spun with all of the conversations, the back and forth of suggestions, the quick, quiet plans they'd built together. "What..."

"Did you think that far into it?"

Yes. Confusion clogged her throat, and her brows furrowed. They'd already decided this... hadn't they? "Yeah. We did."

Cadillac took a step forward. "We wou—"

"I asked her," Blue said.

Sharp. Jagged. Cut.

With a warning.

"Yeah, we did think about it," she said, steadying herself long enough to level him with a hard look. "We would need to knock out the power. A blackout."

Blue cocked his head to the side... as if that was amusing. "A blackout. Okay, baby."

A wave of frustration swept through her, steering her gaze away from him. "We need someone to... to hit a breaker," she explained calmly. The music threatened to drown her out. "Because we need darkness to be... stealthy."

The words didn't fit together the right way, but as Blue hummed beside her, something warm flooded through her chest. Was that approval?

"That's not a bad idea," he said, squeezing her hip. "Who can do it?"

A collective murmur erupted from the other six, a mere whisper still hidden within guitar riffs and clashing cymbals and amp feedback and... noise. That's why Blue chose these places.

It was hard to think, and the last thing he wanted was for them to fucking think too hard.

When Blue glanced at Vegas, her heart skipped. No. Vegas had to be at Rockefeller Plaza with her.

"Atom," she clipped out carefully. Expendable. "Atom can do it."

Atom blinked in disdain. "Fuck you."

Whoa. Okay.

"Fuck you," she repeated, stepping forward and swinging her red cup at them. "Just because you're the star of the fucking show doesn't mean we listen to you."

This fucking bitch.

Her teeth ground together. "Atom. I'm just trying to help. It makes the most sense."

"Why?"

"Because we need..." A million words jumbled up in her throat, and she fumbled, sparing a single fucking look at Vegas. Fuck. Blue noticed shit like that. "Because we need most of the men in the Plaza, operating the crane and the boom."

Atom rolled her eyes. "Why the fuck can't you do it?"

A silence simmered, caught in the moment between songs, twisted into the harsh sound of the singer speaking into a microphone.

"I'm sorry," she drawled, giving Atom her trademark—that sweet fucking smile. If Atom wanted to see a bitch, oh, she'd be a fucking bitch. Passive aggressive pettiness was a pastime for her. "Are you doing anything to help?"

Another song kicked off abruptly. Atom took a step forward, hostility seizing a sharp smirk. "What about you?" she almost cooed as the space between them disappeared slowly. "What are you doing besides fucking Blue?"

Ouch. That one almost hurt. A dry laugh tumbled free, and she masked the mild surprise with cool indifference. "I'm keeping everything together. I'm going to make sure that this"—she gestured at all of them, lowering her voice—"doesn't blow up in our fucking faces."

Atom snickered. "That's a fucking joke of a job. You don't have to do anything but whore around for a fe—"

A fist cracked against her cheek, and then all hell broke loose.

Everything blurred.

They were nothing but a tangled mess in that dark, discreet corner, a fight lost in the sounds of a punk crowd, shouting rebellion and revolution to the city. They were nothing, strangers with nothing to fucking lose, flying hands and strangled hisses, slapping, cursing, fingers twisted into clothing, fingers tangled into hair, fingers digging into skin.

"Hell yes," Bang snickered, clapping his hands with an encouraging whistle. "Cat fight."

An arm wrapped around her waist, yanked her back, steadied her in a fit of rage. Burning cheeks and stinging eyes, she collapsed against his chest with a snarl. "Don't fucking touch me, puta."

Atom flung something equally nasty at her in another language, so fucking quickly that her head reeled, desperate to translate the slew of... Korean?

"Bitch," Atom spat at the end.

Rage catapulted her forward, but when she lunged for her, that arm around her waist tightened. She ricocheted backward, slamming into his chest again, again, again. Trapped in a vice grip. "Let go of me."

"Hey, hey, hey," Blue soothed in her ear, but it was nothing. It was background sounds, white noise, a buzzing.

Because suddenly, Vegas roped an arm around Atom's waist, pulling her back, echoing everything Blue was doing to her in that moment... and something in her chest threatened to crack. Fuck this.

"Fuck you," she hissed, shaking off Blue with a clenched jaw and blazing eyes. When she steadied, Vegas released Atom. His dark eyes found hers—unreadable and unapologetic.

She didn't need his help.

"Fine." Atom flicked a lock of hair over her shoulder, brushed herself down, flashed a sarcastic smile. "I'll do it. If I don't do it, nothing else can happen." Her shoulders lifted in a coy shrug. "Because my job is important."

What a petty bitch.

"Yeah." Her fingers curled into fists, and her nails bit into her palms. Grinding back a curse, she met Atom's gaze, settling for a sugary-sweet smile to rival hers. "It would be nice if you could make yourself useful."

"Okay, Star, tranquilo," Vans drawled from the side, quirking a brow at her curiously. Cautiously.

That's right. None of them knew her. None of them understood that this... this was her.

The best version of her.

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**I'm actually kind of in love with her character lately. I see a lot of horrible qualities, but I see a lot of really admiring qualities too. I don't know. We'll see how she turns out. 😅