I wiped the tear from my face and took a deep breath, drawing on every ounce of willpower I possessed to compose myself. Whatever was causing this unexpected reaction, I couldn’t afford to fall apart right now. The others needed me to be steady, rational, capable of making decisions under pressure.
But the confusion lingered. I’d been shot at before. Multiple times during my escape from the lab in Northern Europe. I’d been kidnapped, tortured, forced to fight soldiers who were actively trying to kill me or drag me back to a laboratory for more experimentation. I’d faced death and dangerous scenarios in various forms and managed to maintain my composure throughout all of it.
So why was I crying now? Why was this assassination attempt affecting me differently than previous encounters with lethal violence?
The question would have to wait. Right now, the four women who’d chosen to build their lives around supporting my goals were watching me with expressions of concern and fear, waiting for some kind of leadership or reassurance that I wasn’t entirely sure I could provide.
We settled onto the living room couch, the familiar comfort of the furniture providing a strange contrast to the gravity of our situation. The news was still playing on the television, cycling through various angles and analysis of the assassination attempt, but I’d muted the sound. The last thing we needed was to hear pundits speculating about motives and implications while we were trying to process the reality ourselves.
For several minutes, nobody spoke. The weight of what had just happened seemed to fill the room like a physical presence, making even casual conversation feel inappropriate. Finally, it was Sienna who broke the silence, her voice carrying a heaviness that I’d rarely heard from her before.
"I need to ask something," she said, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. "And I need everyone to be honest about it, including myself."
We all turned to look at her, recognizing the tone of someone preparing to voice difficult truths.
"Is this all worth it?"
The question hung in the air like a challenge, simple in its phrasing but devastating in its implications. I could see the others processing it, each of them probably running through their own mental calculations of cost versus benefit, risk versus reward.
"I don’t mean that rhetorically," Sienna continued, her voice gaining strength as she worked through her thoughts. "I mean actually worth it. The assassination attempts, the constant danger, the knowledge that every day we wake up might be the day that one of us doesn’t make it home."
Alexis shifted uncomfortably beside her, but didn’t interrupt. Evelyn’s Psychological Insight skill was probably picking up the emotional complexity of what Sienna was expressing, while Camille watched with the kind of focused attention that suggested she’d been thinking about similar questions.
"I’m not stupid," Sienna said, looking directly at me. "I’m not suggesting we just give up and pretend none of this ever happened. I understand what you’re trying to accomplish, and I believe in the goals. But I also understand the risks, and they’re getting higher every day."
I nodded, recognizing that she deserved a real response rather than platitudes or dismissive reassurance. "What is it that specifically concerns you?"
"Everything." The word came out with quiet intensity. "I’m concerned that we’re all going to die, Rey. That this path we’ve chosen is going to get us killed before we accomplish anything meaningful."
She stood up and began pacing.
"We’ve always been in danger. From the moment we got involved with the government, from the moment you created the Masked Syndicate, from the moment we chose to support your goals. We’ve been targets. But it keeps escalating."
"The assassination attempt today—"
"Is just the latest example," she interrupted. "We’ve all been nearly killed multiple times. We’ve all been tortured and experimented on, which is how we got our job titles in the first place. Remember the Cain Protocol? Remember what they did to Evelyn?"
Her words hit like physical blows, each one a reminder of trauma that we’d all been trying to move beyond.
"Look at Evelyn," Sienna continued, her voice carrying a mix of pain and protectiveness. "She can barely make eye contact with you because if she does she loses control and attacks you...and worst of all is that we have no idea how to help her. For all we know and god I wish I’m mistaken, but this condition of hers could be permanent."
I glanced at Evelyn, who had gone very still, her eyes remaining hidden under her blindfold. I’d known that the Cain Protocol had affected her differently than the rest of us, but I hadn’t fully understood the lasting impact as I tried to remain optimistic.
"And even if you become World President," Sienna went on, "even if you succeed in everything you’re trying to accomplish, we’ll still have enemies. The people who opposed the Geneva endorsement aren’t going to just accept defeat and move on. They’ll keep trying to eliminate you, which means they’ll keep trying to eliminate us."
She stopped pacing and turned to face me directly. "We can’t travel anywhere without worrying that our plane will be sabotaged and we’ll end up stranded on some abandoned island, fighting for survival again. We can’t have normal relationships or normal lives because everything we do is carrying the risk of death and endangerment. We can’t even do normal things like go shopping or go on a date because we run the risk of getting swarmed by either fans or enemies."
The weight of her words was crushing, not because they were unfair or inaccurate, but because they were completely true. Every point she’d made was based on reality rather than hypothetical concerns.
"And eventually," she said, her voice dropping to barely above a whisper, "someone we care about is going to die. Maybe all of us. Maybe you. The probability keeps getting higher with every victory, every time you get stronger, every step closer to actually challenging the established order."
Tears were running down her face now, but her voice remained steady. "I don’t want us to die, Reynard. I don’t want to lose any of you. But every day that passes, the odds of that happening get worse."
The room fell silent again, but this time it was the heavy quiet that followed brutal honesty rather than the uncertain stillness that preceded difficult conversations. Everything Sienna had said was accurate, and we all knew it.
Alexis reached over and took Sienna’s hand, offering comfort without trying to argue with her assessment. Camille had gone very pale, probably running through her own mental catalog of close calls and traumatic experiences. Evelyn still hadn’t looked up from her hands, but I could see her shoulders shaking slightly.
"You’re right," I said finally, my voice coming out hoarser than I’d expected. "About all of it. The risks are real, they’re escalating, and they’re not going away even if we succeed."
Sienna nodded, wiping her eyes with her free hand. "I’m not trying to talk you out of this. I’m not trying to convince anyone to abandon the cause or pretend that the problems don’t exist. But I need to know that you understand what you’re asking of us. What you’re asking of yourself."
"Do you?" She sat back down, but maintained eye contact. "Because sometimes I think you get so focused on the bigger picture—the global implications, the systemic changes, the potential to help millions of people—that you lose sight of the human cost. The personal cost."
I thought about the tear I’d shed earlier, the unexpected emotional response that I still didn’t fully understand. Maybe it hadn’t been about the assassination attempt itself. Maybe it had been about the cumulative weight of everything Sienna was now articulating—the recognition that my choices were putting people I cared about in mortal danger.
"The experiments," I said, looking at each of them in turn. "The kidnapping and torture. The constant security concerns. Today’s assassination attempt. You’re right that it’s all connected, and you’re right that it’s all because of the path I’ve chosen."
"We’ve chosen," Alexis corrected gently. "We made these decisions together."
"But I’m the one who set everything in motion. I’m the one whose goals and methods have created the situation we’re all living with."
Sienna nodded again. "Which is why I need to ask you this, and I need you to really think about it before you answer."
She paused, seeming to gather herself for what she was about to say.
"We’ll support you no matter what. All of us. If you decide to continue on this path, if you decide to keep pursuing the goal of becoming World President and challenging the established order, we’ll be with you. We’ll face whatever comes, accept whatever risks are necessary, and do everything we can to help you succeed."
The weight of that loyalty, that unconditional commitment, was almost overwhelming.
"But before we go any further," she continued, "I need you to think to yourself—really think—about whether this, everything that you’re doing right now, is worth it. And what you actually want to do."