The door to Evelyn's office closed with a quiet click that felt far too final. She pressed her back against it for just a moment, her eyes taking in the organized chaos of paperwork, screens, and secure communication devices that defined her workspace.

She couldn't afford to fall apart. Not now. Not when Reynard was broken in the bathroom and the world was turning against them.

She moved to her desk with practiced efficiency, pulling up her secure contact list. The allies. The people who'd stood with Reynard during the UN meeting. The ones who'd pledged support when it mattered.

Time to see if those pledges meant anything.

France first. President Dubois had been instrumental in providing information about the Cain Protocol. Had seemed genuinely supportive of their cause.

The call connected after three rings.

"Mademoiselle Evelyn," Dubois's voice came through, cautious. Guarded in a way it hadn't been during previous conversations. "I was expecting your call."

"You've seen the broadcast," Evelyn said. Not a question.

"All of Europe has seen it," Dubois replied. "Multiple times. It's dominating every news cycle."

"Then you know we need support. A statement from France backing Reynard. Confirming that his work against the World President was legitimate."

Silence on the other end. Too long. Too heavy.

"Evelyn," Dubois said finally, "you must understand the position this puts us in. If what that man—Subject 3834—said is true, if Hugo Vale truly was the World President and Reynard is his son..."

"Rey didn't choose his father," Evelyn interrupted, her voice harder than she intended. "He's spent three years fighting against everything Hugo represented."

"Perhaps," Dubois said. "But the optics are catastrophic. A son of the World President leading a coalition against the World President? It looks like internal power struggle. Family politics. Not genuine revolution."

"So you're abandoning us."

"We're not abandoning anyone," Dubois said carefully. "But we cannot openly help. Not right now. Not until the situation clarifies. France has its own stability to consider, its own population to reassure. I'm sorry, Evelyn. Truly. But my hands are tied."

The call ended.

Evelyn immediately dialed the next number. Ghana. Samuel Osei.

He answered personally, his usually jovial voice subdued. "Evelyn. I'm glad you called. How is Reynard?"

"Alive. Injured. Exhausted," Evelyn said bluntly. "We need Ghana's support, Samuel. A statement. Anything."

Samuel sighed, and she could hear the genuine regret in it. "I want to help. You know I do. But there's a complication."

"What complication?"

"Subject 3834—Mark. He's being protected by citizens. Large groups of them. They've adopted him as some kind of symbol of resistance against corruption. My security forces can't arrest him without causing a significant incident. Possibly even riots."

Evelyn's jaw tightened. "So he's just free? After killing Anthony? After that broadcast?"

"For now," Samuel said grimly. "We're working on it, but carefully. The public mood is... volatile. Half the country sees Reynard as a hero who exposed the World President. The other half sees him as a fraud who inherited stolen power. And Mark is playing both sides brilliantly."

"Samuel—"

"I'm sorry, Evelyn. Ghana supports you personally. I support you. But officially? I have to be very careful how I move forward. One wrong step and this entire region destabilizes."

Another dead end.

Evelyn tried China next. They'd been cautious allies during the UN meeting—supportive but calculated in their support.

The Chinese representative who answered was someone Evelyn had spoken with before. Cool. Professional. Utterly unreadable.

"We've been monitoring the situation," the representative said after brief pleasantries. "It's quite concerning."

"We need China's support," Evelyn said. "A statement backing Reynard's legitimacy."

"And how would we justify such a statement?" the representative asked. "How would we deny allegations that appear to have substantial evidence? A man was broadcast standing over the body of Hugo Vale, confirming his identity as the World President. Reynard Vale is demonstrably Hugo Vale's son. The connection is undeniable."

"The connection exists," Evelyn admitted. "But Reynard isn't responsible for his father's crimes."

"Perhaps not," the representative said. "But in politics, perception often matters more than truth. And the perception is very damaging. China must consider its position carefully before making any public statements."

So in short, they were backing away too.

Evelyn made three more calls to other countries who were maybe willing to help Reynard, but the results were the same. Cautious interest but no firm commitment. Allies suddenly remembering they had other priorities. Support evaporating like morning dew.

By the time she finished, her hands were shaking with barely contained frustration.

-----

The elevator doors opened to reveal chaos the chaos to Sienna and Camille.

The building's lobby was packed with security guards trying to maintain some semblance of order. Outside, visible through the glass doors, was a crowd that had grown exponentially in just the past hour.

Reporters. Protesters. Agitators. All demanding access to Reynard Vale.

"This is insane," Camille muttered, her wild energy subdued by the sheer scale of what they were facing.

"We need to say something," Sienna said, her caring nature making her voice steady despite obvious fear. "If we don't, they'll just keep getting louder."

They approached the front entrance, and the head of building security—a stern woman named Martinez—stopped them immediately.

"Ma'am, I strongly advise against going out there."

"We have to try," Sienna said. "They need to hear from someone."

Martinez looked like she wanted to argue but finally nodded. "Stay close to the entrance. If it gets violent, get back inside immediately."

The doors opened, and the noise hit like a physical wall.

Hundreds of voices. Shouting. Chanting. Camera flashes going off constantly. Microphones thrust forward by reporters trying to get close enough for quotes.

"—statement from Reynard Vale—"

"—confirm or deny the allegations—"

"—connection to Hugo Vale—"

"—NovaCore experiments—"

Sienna raised her hands, trying to get attention. Trying to be heard over the cacophony.

"Please! Everyone, please listen!"

The crowd didn't quiet. If anything, it got louder.

Camille stepped forward, her fashion designer's instinct for commanding attention kicking in. "We have a statement!"

That got some attention. Not silence, but a reduction in volume.

"Reynard Vale is—" Sienna started.

"Is he the son of Hugo Vale?" someone shouted.

"Did he know his father was the World President?"

"How did he get his powers?"

"Was it through the experiments?"

Each question came faster, louder, overlapping until coherent communication became impossible.

Sienna tries again. "You don't have proof of anything! You're listening to a broadcast from a murderer who—"

"Subject 3834 exposed the truth!"

"The evidence was right there!"

"Why isn't Reynard answering?"

Camille raises her voice, her PR experience coming in with what can only be called a temporary excuse to make everyone leave or calm down. "Reynard isn't even home yet! He's been traveling! And you're all taking the word of someone who admitted to killing people on camera!"

That caused a split in the crowd. Some people looked uncertain. Others got angrier.

"Where is he then?"

"Prove he's not hiding!"

"If he's innocent, why won't he face us?"

A bottle flew from somewhere in the crowd. It shattered against the building's facade, glass spraying.

Security immediately moved forward, forming a tighter barrier.

"Inside. Now," Martinez commanded.

Camille and Sienna retreated, the doors closing behind them with a heavy thunk that barely muted the ongoing chaos outside.

"That went well," Camille said sarcastically, breathing hard.

Sienna looked pale. "They're not going to listen. Not to us. Maybe not to anyone."

-----

The bathroom door was unlocked. Alexis knocked once, then entered when there was no response.

Steam filled the space. The shower was still running, water cascading over Reynard's hunched form. He was sitting in the fetal position, exactly as she'd feared he might be.

"Rey," she said softly.

He didn't respond. Didn't even seem to hear her.

She turned off the water and grabbed towels. Approached him carefully, like he was a wounded animal that might bolt.

"Rey, come on. Let's get you out of there."

This time he moved, slowly unfolding himself. His entire body was trembling—from cold despite the steam, from exhaustion and from shock. She wrapped towels around him, noting the extensive bruising across his ribs, the swelling in his face, the way he moved like everything hurt.

She examined him with clinical precision. Light pressure on his ribs caused him to wince despite trying to hide it. His pupils were responsive but sluggish. His breathing was shallow.

"You need rest," she said firmly. "Real rest. No arguing."

He nodded mutely, and she helped him to the bedroom. Got him into clean clothes—just comfortable loungewear that wouldn't aggravate his injuries. Laid him down on the bed.

"Sleep," she ordered. "Your System comes back in three hours anyway. Until then, there's nothing productive you can do."

"Anthony—" he started, his voice hoarse.

"I know," she said gently. "I know, Rey. But you can't help him now. You can only help yourself. So sleep."

His eyes closed, and within minutes, exhaustion claimed him completely.

Alexis watched him for a moment longer, then quietly left the room.

All four of them met in the living room and to make it worse, all four of their faces had various degrees of stress and defeat.

Evelyn spoke first. "France won't help openly. Ghana can't arrest Mark because he's being protected by citizens. China is distancing themselves. Every other ally I contacted gave similar responses. We're on our own."

"The crowd outside is getting worse," Sienna reported. "We tried giving a statement but it just made things more chaotic. They're not interested in listening."

"Half of them think Rey is a hero, half think he's a fraud," Camille added. "And both halves are angry."

"Rey is asleep," Alexis said. "His System comes back in three hours, but mentally he's a wreck. Even with his abilities back, he'll need time to recover properly."

Silence settled over them as the weight of everything pressed down at once.

Then voices started rising between them.

"We need a better strategy, we can't just do our own thing—" Evelyn starts off.

Camille cuts her off. "The strategy is fine, the execution was—"

"Nothing about this is fine!"

"We can't just do nothing and think of a plan—"

"I didn't say do nothing, I said—"

Seeing as this was going nowhere, Alexis tried to put a stop to it. "Both of you, stop—"

The argument escalated, stress and fear bleeding into anger that needed an outlet.

Until Sienna's voice cut through, quiet but carrying enough weight to stop everyone.

"Should we go into hiding?"

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