Codename: Midnight Thorn

The room was heavy with silence after Myst stormed out. The weight of her words lingered in the air, settling uncomfortably in their chests.

Cipher was the first to move, rubbing his temples with a sigh. "That could've gone better."

Blaze scoffed. "You think?" He ran a hand through his hair before dropping into a chair, tension radiating from his posture. "I don't get it. Since when did she think we blamed her? Have we ever said anything like that?"

Cipher shook his head. "No. But guilt has a way of twisting things. And let's be real, we've all been walking on eggshells around her ever since she got back."

"We don't treat her the same way we used to. Not on purpose, but it's there. The hesitation. The way we don't even talk about…" Echo trailed off, unwilling to say the name lingering in the air.

Flux.

Razor, arms folded across his chest, finally spoke. "We've been so damn relieved to have her back that we forgot to show it." His voice was low but firm, carrying the weight of responsibility. "She only sees what we lost, not what we've been trying to hold on to."

Blaze let out a bitter chuckle. "Damn it, boss. That might be the saddest thing I've ever heard you say."

Razor didn't respond.

The room felt smaller, the weight of their unspoken grief pressing against the walls.

"Well, she's not the only one thinking about him," Cipher murmured after a beat.

That single sentence seemed to pull at something inside all of them.

Because it was true.

Flux's absence was a raw wound in all of them. He had been more than a comrade—he had been their backbone, their reckless but dependable force, the one who could take the hits and still smirk through them.

Now he was gone.

Blaze clenched his jaw, gripping the edge of the table. "She thinks she deserves the worst of it because she survived. But if Flux were here, he'd tell her to stop being a damn idiot about it."

Shade, who had been listening quietly from his spot near the doorway, finally spoke. His voice was even, almost unreadable. "She wants us to resent her because it'd be easier than accepting that we don't."

His words settled into the silence like a final puzzle piece clicking into place.

Echo let out a slow breath. "So… what now? Just let her sit out there thinking we all secretly hate her?"

Razor's gaze flickered toward the door before locking onto Echo. "Then go talk to her."

Echo blinked. "Me?"

Cipher shrugged. "You're the best at it."

"You have a way of getting people to listen without making them feel like they're being forced to," Razor added.

Blaze smirked. "And you're annoying enough that she'll at least argue with you instead of shutting down completely."

Echo let out a long, dramatic sigh, standing up and stretching. "Ah, so it's my undeniable charm that gets me sent into emotionally charged situations. Got it."

Blaze tossed a nearby dirty cloth at his head. "Just go before she freezes her ass off out there." Echo caught it one-handed, smirking slightly, but the expression didn't quite reach his eyes.

Before he turned to leave, his fingers lingered on the fabric for a second longer than necessary. It was the only sign that the moment had gotten to him, that maybe this hit a little too close to home for all of them. He tossed the object to his chair.

Because the truth was, it wasn't just her dealing with guilt.

Echo gave the group a lazy salute and headed for the door. But as he stepped out into the cold night air, his usual playfulness faded.

Myst wasn't going to listen if they tried to force her to.

But Echo?

He had a way of getting people to hear what they needed to.

And right now, Myst needed to hear the truth. Whether she wanted to or not.