“No more apologies. It’s fine. Anyone would have done the same in your position.”

Nova’s attention caught on the third member of their group. Though Danna had followed Ruby and Oscar, she stayed back a few steps, her arms crossed, her jaw set.

Clearly not about to apologize.

Nova had prepared herself for this, though. Of everyone she would have to persuade of her innocence, she knew Danna would be among the most difficult. Her accusation had landed Nova in jail in the first place. Nova still wasn’t sure what Danna had seen; she knew only that her testimony must have been shaky enough to allow for doubt once Narcissa showed up in Nightmare’s mask, helmet in hand.

And so, despite Danna’s cool demeanor, Nova beamed at her, as wide and chipper as she could. “Danna, we were so worried about you. Being stuck in swarm mode for that long … I know it must have taken a toll on you, but I’m really glad to see you’re okay.”

Danna’s expression thawed … but only a little, and only on the surface. The look in her eyes remained speculative. “Thanks. I’m glad there aren’t any hard feelings.”

“None at all. I’m still not sure I understand how Nightmare managed to frame me like that, but the way I see it, you were as much a victim as I was. I just hope we can work together to bring her down, for real this time.”

Something flickered across Danna’s face, and though Nova couldn’t be sure, she thought it might be a hint of uncertainty. An ongoing question. Could she really have been wrong about Nova after all?

Whatever she saw there, it would be left uninterpreted, as Oscar thumped his cane on the tile floor. “Hear, hear to that! We are going to destroy Nightmare. But first…” He grinned at Ruby, and in unison they both shouted, “Pizza!”

“You have to come with us,” said Oscar. “It’s a celebratory yay-our-newest-recruit-isn’t-a-murderous-villain-after-all meal.”

Nova’s gut tightened at the insult. “Actually, I—”

“Don’t worry, Adrian will be there, too,” said Ruby, winking impishly as she took Nova’s elbow. “He was going to visit Max for a bit and then meet us there.”

At the mention of Max, Nova’s thoughts catapulted over themselves. Max. Max. She’d been so bewildered when she’d been released from the prison, so full of disbelief and so eager to find a way to ensure Ace’s freedom, too, that she’d completely forgotten about Max.

“How is he?” she said, refusing to budge when Ruby tried to lead her toward the exit. “Last I heard he was recovering, but—”

“Oh, you don’t know!” bubbled Ruby. “He’s out of the coma and doing great! In fact, Adrian had the brilliant idea to let him stay—”

“In the hospital,” Danna practically shouted, startling them all. “For a little while longer. To make sure he has a full recovery before they move him anywhere else.” She shot a glare at Ruby and Oscar, one that wasn’t particularly subtle.

“Um … okay…,” said Ruby, cocking her head at Danna.

“And they’re rebuilding the quarantine,” Danna added, jutting her thumb toward the busy construction zone at the far end of the lobby. “But they’re going to make it nicer, bigger … make sure he’s extra comfortable this time.”

Nova’s mouth went dry as she took in the glass walls that were waiting to be finished on the mezzanine. “I didn’t think they would rebuild the quarantine.”

“Yeah, well, Max is safer here,” Danna said. “You know. From all the people who would hurt him. Like Nightmare and the Anarchists.”

Oscar cleared his throat. “Yeah, so, there’s a basket of garlic bread sticks calling my name from three blocks away … Are we going?”

“You guys go ahead,” said Nova.

“Oh, Nova, no!” said Ruby. “You have to come! I’m sure they’ll give you the day off after what you’ve been through.”

“Next time, I promise,” Nova insisted. Extricating her arm from Ruby’s grip, she walked backward, waving good-bye. “Have fun. Tell Adrian I said hi.”

“He’s going to be devastated!” Oscar called after her. “If his heartbroken tears fall on my chicken pesto deluxe, I’m blaming you! I don’t like salty pizza!”

“Noted,” said Nova, offering him a salute.

Her three teammates sulked grumpily toward the main entrance. Nova started to turn around when she crashed into an unexpected wall. Or—a chest that felt like a wall.

She tilted her head back to be met with the rosy cheeks and pearly smile of Captain Chromium.

“Oops, sorry, Nova.”

“Uh … hi,” she stammered, not sure what she should call him. Captain Chromium or just Captain? Adrian’s dad? Mr. Everhart?

She was saved from making a decision when Hugh clasped her right hand and gave it a solid handshake. “I asked Sampson to let me know when you came in. I wanted to be one of the first to welcome you back to the team.”

“Oh. Thanks.”

“And,” he said, releasing both her hand and the dazzling grin. His brow creased with regret. “I wanted to offer you a formal apology for this abysmal misunderstanding. I’m ashamed to think how we treated you, as one of our own, when your loyalty and dedication has been so unwavering. It’s just…” He shook his head. “All this turmoil that’s been going on lately, you know? The parade, Cosmopolis Park, the attack on headquarters, Ace Anarchy … sometimes I feel like we’re jumping through hoops set on fire, and every one of them is a little bit smaller. If we don’t keep ahead of all the threats and dangers, then one of these days, the whole thing will go up in flames.”

Nova narrowed her eyes, not entirely sure this was a good analogy, and also wondering whether the Captain was aware of the insensitivity of the statement, given what had become of the house on Wallowridge.

But no—she could tell he was oblivious.

And so she chuckled understandingly. “Well, good thing you’re invincible, at least.”

“Yeah,” he said, with a small shrug. “I might be, but there are people I care about that don’t have that luxury, and I’m just doing what I can to protect them. I hope you understand that we did what we had to do, given the circumstances.”

The circumstances, she thought. Those circumstances being that they had been prepared to execute her, without so much as a proper trial. Because they were the Council, and their word was law. Because they were Renegades, and the Renegades could be judge, jury, and executioner, if that’s what they felt was required for the protection of the people. The normal people. Not villains. Not prodigies who could be dangerous. Protection of their rights didn’t matter.

But Nova didn’t say any of that. She just kept smiling, jaw clenched. “Of course.”

“Good. Because you are a part of the Renegade family now, and it’s important to me and all the Council that everyone here feels like they’re being treated fairly. That they are a part of this team.”

Suddenly, it became clear to Nova that this wasn’t just an apology.

Hugh Everhart was worried. Given the drama with Genissa Clark, which continued to shake their sterling reputation, he was afraid that Nova, too, would go to the media and begin exposing the mistreatment within their ranks.

He was trying to head her off at the pass.

In that moment, Nova felt almost giddy to realize she had stolen another small piece of power away from the Council. They had built their organization on a shaky foundation, and she could put one more fatal crack into it.

Lucky for Captain Chromium and the Council, she wasn’t planning to go to the media with her story of unjust imprisonment. She had other plans for the future.

But that didn’t mean she couldn’t use this conversation to her advantage. What if she could make the change she needed right here, right now?

“I don’t blame you and the Council for what happened,” she said. “You were given information and you had to act on it. I understand why you did what you did.”

Before Hugh Everhart could appear too relieved, Nova added, “But I was surprised by the whole execution thing.”

His gaze darted away. “Yes … it’s unfortunate that we … Well, I hate to think what you went through. But I am so glad it’s all worked out.”

“Yes,” she said slowly, “it worked out for me, thankfully. But I have to admit that I’d always wanted to believe the Renegades were, well, above capital punishment. To end someone’s life, giving them no possible chance for restitution, and to do it without even offering a fair trial, it seems—how do I say this?—a little villainous.”

To her surprise, the Captain chuckled, as if the idea of the Council doing something even remotely villainous was too absurd to consider. “To be fair, we did believe you were Nightmare, and Nightmare did try to kill me.”

She bristled. “I’m aware of that, but … don’t you think she would at least deserve another chance?”

His eyebrows shot up.

Realizing that she was edging too close to an unspoken hope, she immediately withdrew. “Or, maybe not Nightmare, specifically. But think about it. I was in that prison—wrongfully, yes—but it still gave me time to think about my life and my choices, and to decide that, if I ever got out of there, I would do things differently. The Renegades have to be willing to look beyond the mistakes of the past and understand that people can change. And I’m not just talking about the execution, either. I know you’ll never forgive Ace Anarchy for what he did, and maybe you’ll never forgive Nightmare, either, but there are dozens of prodigies on that island, some who have been there for more than a decade. And yet—we have no systems in place to see if they really are as dangerous as we think they are. To see if they deserve the punishment they’re receiving. Maybe some of them want to become useful citizens in this world; maybe some of them deserve that. But you want to strip their powers from them, without even giving them a chance to explain why they did the things they did or how they’ve changed in the years since. Many of them are still being persecuted for crimes they committed in the Age of Anarchy … I mean, didn’t you do anything during that time that you’re not proud of?”