Diane set her phone down on the bedside table and allowed herself a small smile. Her daughter, Sloane, was experiencing her first real crush, though calling it a crush felt insufficient for what Diane had witnessed in the theater room earlier. The way Sloane had looked at Lukas, the way her entire body had curved into his like she was trying to crawl inside his skin—that was want. Pure and undeniable.
Diane shifted against the headboard, drawing her knees up under the silk sheets. The house had settled into its late-night quiet, that particular stillness that only ca after everyone had retreated to their separate corners to process the day’s chaos.
And what a day it had been.
Her eyes drifted to the frad photograph on her nightstand. Two won in their early twenties stood pressed together in front of a concert venue, arms slung around each other’s shoulders. Both grinning like idiots. Diane’s hair had been shorter then, barely touching her shoulders, and Reina Belmont’s dark blonde hair had been pulled into a high ponytail that defied gravity.
Best friends. The kind that shared everything—clothes, secrets, the conviction that they could save the world if soone would just give them the chance.
Reina never got that chance. Not enough of one, anyway.
Diane touched the glass covering the photo, her fingertip tracing the outline of Reina’s face. Nine years had passed since the funeral. Nine years of raising Reina’s son alongside her own daughter, watching him grow from a grief-stricken eight-year-old into the young man currently sleeping down the hall.
The young man who had manifested an Aspect at seventeen, defying every diagnostic scan that had declared him permanently Unmarked.
The young man who had kissed her daughter with enough intensity to fog up the theater room.
The young man whose hand had very deliberately cupped her ass during their hug earlier.
Diane’s smile turned sharper.
Bold.
That was the word for what Lukas had beco this past week. Bold in a way that the withdrawn, quiet boy she’d known for nine years had never been. The Lukas she rembered would have stamred and fled at the first sign of confrontation. This new version had looked her in the eye and told her he cared about Sloane, no deflection, no excuses.
And then he’d grabbed her ass like he had every right to.
Her body’s response to that contact had been... inconvenient. The warmth that had spread through her stomach, the way her breath had caught for half a second before professional composure reasserted itself. Diane was a grown woman with decades of experience managing unwanted reactions. She knew how to compartntalize.
But that didn’t an the reaction hadn’t happened.
"He needs a proper scolding tomorrow," Diane said aloud to the empty room. Her Southern drawl ca through stronger when she was alone, the vowels stretching out in a way she never allowed during business hours. "Can’t have him thinking that kind of behavior is acceptable."
Except part of her—a part she refused to examine too closely—had found the boldness attractive. n who grabbed what they wanted rarely did so with that kind of confidence at seventeen.
Most boys his age were still figuring out how to make eye contact with won they found attractive, let alone initiate physical contact that bold.
Diane stood, her silk nightgown sliding against her skin as she crossed to the desk where her laptop sat open. She’d been reviewing footage from the house’s security system earlier, checking to make sure the exterior caras were functioning properly. The Fitzgerald estate had top-tier security, befitting soone who managed the public images of California’s most valuable Heroes.
But it was the interior cara footage that had caught her attention.
Diane settled into her chair and pulled up the saved file from tonight’s training room recording. The tistamp showed 11:47 PM. She’d already watched it twice, but repetition was necessary for proper analysis.
The screen displayed Lukas alone in the training room, wearing grey joggers and a fitted black shirt that showed off the lean muscle he’d been building these past two weeks. He moved to the center of the mat, dropped into a low stance that looked vaguely athletic, and then—
He blurred.
Not vanished. Not quite. But the distance between his starting position and the padded wall collapsed in less than a second, faster than any baseline human should move. Faster than most trained Heroes moved without enhancent.
Diane rewound the footage. Watched it again at half speed.
The movent was still too fast to track properly. One fra showed Lukas in his starting stance. The next showed him slamming face-first into the wall ten feet away. No transition. No visible acceleration. Just instant repositioning, like soone had edited out the fras in between.
"Hm."
Diane sat back in her chair, tapping one manicured nail against her lower lip. The telekinetic Aspect Lukas had demonstrated earlier—Phantom Touch, he’d called it—was straightforward enough. Range of fifteen feet, limited weight capacity, standard Channeler classification. Nothing remarkable beyond the fact that he’d manifested it at all.
But this? This was different.
She rewound the footage again, pausing on a fra that showed Lukas’s face mid-movent. His expression was pure focus, no surprise or confusion. He’d known what he was doing. This wasn’t an accident or an unexpected manifestation Aspect.
This was a separate ability entirely.
Which ant either Lukas had manifested dual Aspects—vanishingly rare and usually accompanied by serious biological complications—or he’d lied about the nature of his power from the start.
Diane’s Read the Room Aspect humd at the edge of her consciousness, that familiar sensation of information arranging itself into patterns. She’d felt sothing off when Lukas demonstrated his telekinesis earlier. Nothing concrete enough to call him on it, just a vague sense that the narrative he’d presented didn’t quite align with what her Aspect was telling her about his emotional state.
He’d been nervous. Not surprised, not uncertain about his power. Nervous like soone telling a story they’d rehearsed.
"Seems like my little darling has so secrets."
Diane closed the laptop, her mind already working through implications and probabilities. If Lukas possessed an Aspect more powerful than he’d revealed, that complicated everything. The Halloran application, his safety, the attention he’d draw once people realized what he was capable of.
The Hero industry ran on spectacle and marketability, but it also ran on power. Raw, undeniable power that could be photographed and ranked and sold. Heroes with flashy, visible Aspects climbed faster than those with subtle abilities, even if the subtle ones were objectively more useful.
But power attracted danger. Villains, corporate interests, governnt agencies looking to recruit promising candidates before they hit the open market. Diane had spent two decades managing those pressures for her clients, and she knew exactly how ugly things could get when soone decided you were worth acquiring.
Lukas was already vulnerable. Unmarked for nine years, suddenly manifesting at seventeen with no clear lineage explanation since both his parents had been mid-tier Heroes with thoroughly docunted Aspect profiles. The story raised questions, and questions drew attention.
If word got out that his actual power exceeded his registration, the attention would intensify.
On the other hand, deliberately underreporting an Aspect was a prosecutable offense under IHL regulations. If soone caught Lukas using abilities beyond his registered classification, he could face license suspension or criminal charges depending on how the regulatory board felt that morning.
Diane had navigated worse situations. She could handle this.
The question was whether Lukas understood the ga he was playing. Whether he’d thought through the consequences of hiding his true capabilities or if he was just a seventeen-year-old boy who’d stumbled into power and didn’t know what to do with it yet.
She would need to talk to him. Soon.
Before the IHL registration tomorrow made everything official.
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