Chapter 31
Chapter thirty-one
Mandie
The Keystone’s common area was alive with the warmth of shared laughter and the scent of yeast and herbs. Donovan stood at the counter, back to me, stretching a ball of dough between his palms. The muscles in his forearms flexed with the effort, his black hair sticking to his forehead.
The thrifted apron spelled Flexel’s Pizzeria scrawled across the front in peeling red letters and was dusted with flour. Every time he moved, the fabric shifted against his slim frame like a second skin.
I watched him from the table, my thigh pressed against the empty chair where he’d been sitting. The spot was still warm.
Johnny was sprawled on the couch, tossing a stress ball into the air. "You sure that’s dough and not a science experiment, Doc?"
Sebastian didn’t look up from his tablet. "If it were my experiment, it wouldn’t be edible."
Roger leaned against the counter beside Donovan, arms crossed, sharp features softened by an easy grin. "Ignore them. They’re just jealous they didn’t think of pizza night first."
Donovan’s lips twitched. "It’s not hard. Flour, water, yeast. Anyone could do it."
"Yeah, but they wouldn’t make it look like that," Matt rumbled from the fridge. He cracked open a beer, his massive frame taking up most of the kitchen. He took a long pull, blue eyes flicking to me for half a second. "You got a knack for it."
Donovan paused mid-stretch. "I just… I like making things."
The oven timer beeped. Donovan slid the first pizza into the fancy pizza oven. The cheese bubbled, golden and perfect, crust charring slightly at the edges. My stomach growled.
"Someone’s hungry," Johnny smirked.
"Shut up," I muttered, no heat in it.
Donovan set the pizza on the rack and wiped his hands on his apron, leaving a fresh streak of flour on the black apron. "Mandie, you want the first one?"
I reached for it before he finished asking. The cheese stretched between the pan and my plate. The first bite was too hot, but the flavor burst across my tongue. It was rich, savory, perfect.
"Damn," I said around the mouthful. "This is good."
Donovan’s gray eyes flickered to mine, warm and quiet, before he ducked his head to cut the next slice. "Glad you like it."
The TV was on low in the background, playing a mindless sitcom. Then the news alert chimed, and the room stilled.
The screen cut to a grave-faced anchor. "Breaking news: Sum Zero Tech CEO Victor Scarpetta has announced a new initiative to push congress toward the criminalization of vigilante activity."
Johnny’s stress ball hit the floor with a dull thud. Roger’s smile vanished.
"These so-called heroes are no better than the villains they claim to fight," Victor Scarpetta said, slicked-back hair gleaming under conference lights. "At least villains don’t pretend to be saints."
My fingers tightened around the crust of my pizza.
Then the screen changed again.
This time, it was Cassie.
She stood at a podium, dark hair pulled back, expression tight with desperation. Behind her, a banner read #FindMandie.
"It’s been forty-five days since my best friend, Mandie Weaver, disappeared," she said, voice straining. "Forty-five days of silence."
The air left the room.
Johnny moved first. He was a blur of motion, appearing beside the TV in a flicker of speed to snap it off, plunging the room into silence. "We don't need to watch this garbage," he said, sarcasm replaced by sharp protectiveness. "It’s just noise, Mandie. Don't let it get to you."
But the image of Cassie’s red-rimmed eyes was burned into my retina. "I know some of you think she left on her own… but Mandie wouldn’t do that."
"Forty-five days," I whispered.
Sebastian put an arm around me.
"She thinks I abandoned her," I said, voice cracking.
I stood up. The chair scraped loudly against the floor. "I can't; I need air."
I turned for the hallway.
Matt was there before I made it three steps. He didn't block me, but he stepped into my path, a solid wall of muscle and calm. He reached out, his large hand resting gently on my shoulder.
"You're protecting her," he rumbled, blue eyes locking onto mine. "By being here, you're keeping the target off her back. Don't forget that."
"Doesn't feel like protection," I choked out. "Feels like cowardice."
Matt squeezed my shoulder, just once. "It feels like sacrifice. There's a difference."
“I should at least get her a message; tell her I am ok.”
Roger sighed before speaking. “Any message to her can be traced back here to you and then it will be harder to protect you.”
I shoved my way past Matt. This time, he let me pass.
I walked down the dim hallway, chest heaving. I needed to hit something. I needed to scream. I stepped into the empty gym, the scent of sweat and metal greeting me, and dropped onto a bench, burying my face in my hands.
Forty-five days. To me, it had been a blur of training and laughter. To Cassie, it had been hell.
The door creaked open.
I didn’t look up. "I’m fine, guys. Really."
"Liar."
It wasn't Matt or Roger. The footsteps were silent on the mats.
Donovan sat beside me, close enough that our shoulders brushed. I could smell the flour on him, the faint metallic tang of the oven. He didn't say anything at first, just let his presence settle the air around us.
"I don’t need a pep talk," I muttered into my hands.
"I wasn’t going to give you one."
I finally looked at him. His gray eyes held no pity, just a quiet understanding. "Then what are you doing here?"
He reached out, fingers hovering near mine before curling into his palm. "I just… I know what it’s like. To have people think you’re gone."
The words hit hard. I knew enough about Donovan’s past to know he meant it. He understood disappearing better than anyone.
"She thinks I’m dead," I whispered. "Or that I just walked away. I don't know which is worse."
He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to.
I rubbed my thumbs over my palms. "I need to call her."
Donovan stilled. "We went over this. It isn't safe. Not yet."
"So I just let her keep grieving? She is my best friend, Donovan."
"I know this has been going on for a while. But the boss is working hard to get this all figured out."
"Fuck your boss."
"I'm sorry, but it is for the best."
I knew what he meant. The Keystone. The team. This fragile sense of belonging I’d found with five broken superheroes.
I leaned forward, pressing my forehead to his shoulder, my hand fisting his shirt. He didn’t pull away. He just sat there, solid and steady, while I tried not to fall apart.
"We’ll figure it out," he murmured, his other hand coming up to rest lightly on my back.
I wanted to believe him. But the weight of forty-five days pressed down on me. For the first time since I’d walked into the Keystone, I wasn’t sure I could stay.
A sharp beep cut through the quiet.
Then another. And another. Six devices chiming in perfect, terrifying unison.
Donvan’s watch vibrated against his wrist, pulsing red.
Quantum Knight’s voice filled the room, crisp and urgent. "Situation in Greece. A facility outside Athens has been breached. Suspected meta-human activity. I need four of you to meet me there immediately. Full gear, full stealth. You’ve got twenty minutes."
The room snapped into motion.
"Matt, Sebastian, Donovan, you’re with me," Roger barked, already moving.
Roger didn’t hesitate, stripping off his shirt as he headed for the gear room. Sebastian set his tablet down with a sharp click, adjusting his glasses.
Donovan paused. Just for a heartbeat. His gray eyes met mine, worry, reluctance, apology, before he nodded, untied his apron, and let it drop to the counter.
"Be right back," he murmured, before disappearing down the hall.
Johnny stayed on the couch, watching me with an intensity that made my skin prickle. "You good?" he asked, sarcasm stripped clean from his voice.
I gripped the edge of the table. "Peachy."
He smirked, but it didn’t reach his eyes. "Liar."
Before I could answer, they were back. The shift was jarring. The domestic family was replaced by a paramilitary strike team.
Matt had swapped his t-shirt for a tactical suit that could stretch as he grew. Roger was in his suit with the yellow cape, holding his reflective helmet. Sebastian’s goggles were perched on his forehead, expression coldly analytical as he pulled on his trench coat.
Donovan was the last to reappear. The flour and the shyness were gone, replaced by the form-fitting black and green suit of Flexel. His hair was damp, pushed back from his face.
He moved toward me first. Quiet. Deliberate.
I stood up as he approached. There was no hesitation now. His hands found my waist, pulling me against him with a firmness that stole my breath. His lips pressed to mine, warm and sure, grounding me in the chaos.
"Be careful," I murmured against his mouth.
He pulled back just enough to meet my gaze. "Always."
He stepped away, falling into formation beside Matt.
Roger was next. He didn’t waste time. He cupped my face, kissing me hard and fast. "Don’t miss us too much, Weaver," he said, a ghost of his usual smirk in his voice. Then he was striding away.
Sebastian’s approach was controlled. He stopped in front of me, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers lingered. "Stay out of trouble," he said softly.
He leaned in, his kiss slow and precise, tasting faintly of coffee. When he pulled away, his thumb brushed my bottom lip. "And don’t touch my lab equipment."
I huffed a laugh, but it died in my throat as Matt stepped in.
He didn’t speak. He just gripped my hips and lifted me effortlessly onto the counter, bringing us eye-to-eye. His blue eyes burned. His kiss was possessive and demanding, beard scratching my chin as he devoured me.
I gripped the front of his vest, nails digging in. He groaned low in his throat.
"We’ll be back," he growled, resting his forehead against mine for a split second.
Then he set me down and turned, broad back disappearing through the door with the others.
The door sealed. The common area felt suddenly vast, the silence returning with a vengeance. The only movement was a cleaning robot scuttling across the floor to sweep up the flour Donovan had spilled.
I touched my lips, feeling the phantom pressure of their goodbyes.
Johnny’s voice cut through the quiet from the couch.
"Well," he drawled. "That was… something."