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“Move, Noelle.” Wren’s boot hooked behind my ankle and sent me down hard.
My shoulder hit the padded floor. Pain shot up my neck. Somewhere above me, a camera lens clicked into focus.
“Seriously?” I snapped. “You couldn’t warn me first?”
“If I warn you, the viewers see the move coming.” Wren stood over me in her silver combat jacket, one hand raised, glowing white around the fingers. “Get up.”
“Try asking nicely.”
“Get. Up.”
I pushed off the floor and swung for her ribs.
Wren caught my wrist before I could touch her. Her grip was warm and annoyingly steady. She twisted just enough to make my knees bend.
“Your left side is open,” she said through clenched teeth. Her smile stayed bright for the camera. “You keep leaving it open.”
“Maybe I want you to hit it.”
“Don’t tempt me.”
“Are we flirting now, Starr?”
Her eyes flashed. “I’m breaking your arm for the audience.”
“Same tone.”
The camera drone floated closer. A red light blinked above its lens.
Wren shoved me backward. I let my boots skid across the mat, then threw a black shard from my palm. It cut through the air with a sharp crack and smashed into the metal barrier behind her.
The barrier folded in half.
The crew behind the glass screamed.
Wren’s smile dropped for half a second. “Ellis.”
“What?”
“That was not the prop barrier.”
“Then maybe your people should stop putting real metal in the fight zone.”
“Your hand is smoking.”
I looked down.
Black light crawled over my fingers. It burned under my skin, hot enough to make my teeth lock together. I closed my fist before the camera could catch the shaking.
“Keep going,” Cade said over the speakers. “That was great. Do it again.”
I turned toward the observation booth. “You want another piece of furniture destroyed? Put your stupid desk in here.”
Cade’s voice stayed smooth. “The stream goes live in thirty seconds. If you stop now, the contract flags a failed performance.”
“Go to hell.”
“Already tried. The ratings were terrible.”
Wren stepped between me and the drone. Her shoulder brushed mine. The contact lasted barely a second, but heat climbed up my arm anyway, right beneath the black glow.
“Don’t make this worse,” she muttered.
“You’re the one throwing me around.”
“I’m making sure you don’t get crushed by your own power before we go live.”
“Aw. You care.”
“I care about not standing next to a walking disaster on camera.”
“Your hand says otherwise.”
Her fingers were still wrapped around my wrist.
Wren released me like she’d been burned. “That’s the link. Not caring.”
“Sure.”
The wall screen lit up with the show logo. STEAL THE STARLIGHT flashed in white across a black background. Under it, a countdown began.
00:29.
Wren rolled her shoulders. Her perfect braid had started coming loose near her cheek. A tiny smear of dust marked her jaw. She looked less like the city’s golden hero and more like someone who had been dragged into the same cage I was in.
I hated noticing.
Cade came through the speakers again. “Simple setup. Ellis attacks first. Wren blocks, disarms, and pins her. Keep the fight under three minutes.”
“Three minutes?” Wren asked. “You said ninety seconds.”
“Plans change.”
“You didn’t tell us.”
“That’s why they call it live entertainment.”
“Cade,” Wren said, dropping the smile from her voice, “if she loses control—”
“Then you stabilize her.”
My stomach tightened. “No.”
The black glow jumped from my palm to my wrist.
Wren looked at it. Then at me.
“Don’t use that word,” I said.
Cade laughed softly. “You signed the stabilization clause.”
“I signed because you threatened to sell my debt to a recovery crew.”
“And you’re welcome.”
“You locked me in your apartment.”
“Our apartment,” Wren cut in.
I turned on her. “Don’t start.”
“I’m not defending him.”
“Sounds like it.”
“Sounds like you’re about to get both of us sued before the first audience even sees you.”
The countdown reached ten.
Wren leaned closer. Her breath touched the side of my face. The camera caught the angle and zoomed in.
“Listen to me,” she whispered. “You throw wide. I block high. Then you fake a stumble.”
“I don’t fake anything.”
“Ellis.”
The way she said my name made my mouth go dry.
“What?”
“Stay on your feet.”
“Bossy.”
“I’m serious.” Her hand closed around my elbow. “Your power’s climbing.”
“It’s fine.”
“You’re lying.”
“Keep smiling.”
The countdown hit zero.
The logo vanished. The audience counter jumped from zero to forty thousand, then kept climbing.
A bright red LIVE icon appeared above the main camera.
Cade’s voice boomed through the arena. “Welcome back, Starlight City! Tonight, the city’s favorite hero faces its newest villain.”
The crowd beyond the studio wall roared through the speakers.
Wren lifted her chin. Her white energy flared around her like a halo.
I raised both hands, black light leaking between my fingers.
“Say hello,” Cade ordered.
Wren smiled at the camera. “Try not to blink.”
I bared my teeth. “Try not to cry.”
The comments exploded across the side screens.
WREN IS SO HOT.
WHO IS THE NEW GIRL?
KNOCK HER OUT, STAR GIRL!
I launched forward.
Wren blocked my first strike, but the impact cracked through my shoulder. She caught my second hand and spun me into the barrier.
Metal slammed against my back.
“Too slow,” she said brightly for the camera.
“Too pretty,” I shot back.
Her smile twitched.
I drove my knee toward her hip. She twisted away, but not fast enough. My boot clipped her thigh.
Wren stumbled.
The crowd made one giant noise.
“Got you,” I said.
“Enjoy it.”
She grabbed the front of my jacket and pulled me close. The fabric tightened across my chest. Her body heat cut through the thin material between us.
For one stupid second, we were nose to nose.
Her eyes dropped to my mouth.
Then she slammed me onto the mat.
Air left my lungs.
“You did that on purpose,” I wheezed.
“Obviously.”
“Your agency teach you that?”
“No. My ex taught me.”
“Should I send her a thank-you card?”
Wren’s gaze sharpened. “Keep talking.”
She pinned my wrist above my head. White energy tightened around her fingers. The black shard under my skin pulsed in answer.
Pain ripped through my arm.
I jerked hard. “Get off me.”
“Not yet.”
“Wren.”
Her face changed. The bright performer slipped for half a breath.
“You’re shaking,” she whispered.
“I said get off.”
“If I let go, you’ll discharge.”
“Then let me.”
“That could break your hand.”
“Not your problem.”
“It becomes my problem when the link takes the damage too.”
The comment feed raced faster.
SHE’S HOLDING HER LIKE THAT ON PURPOSE.
THEY HATE EACH OTHER? SURE.
JUST KISS ALREADY.
Wren glanced at the screen. Her jaw tightened.
“Cade,” she said without looking away from me, “cut the comments.”
“No chance,” Cade replied. “They’re carrying the show.”
“They’re distracting me.”
“They’re making you money.”
“I don’t need—”
I twisted my wrist and drove my free hand into the floor.
Black force burst through the mat.
Wren flew backward.
I rolled away, coughing, while the floor buckled between us. The cameras jerked to follow the movement. One nearly hit the ceiling.
“Nice,” Cade said. “Very nice. Again.”
“Shut up!” Wren and I yelled together.
She landed on one knee. Blood showed at the corner of her mouth.
My stomach dropped.
“That’s real,” I said.
“Brilliant observation.” She wiped it with her thumb. “You hit me.”
“I didn’t mean to.”
“Then stop using the power.”
“I can’t exactly switch it off.”
“Then control it.”
“Why don’t you come over here and teach me?”
Wren stood and charged.
I brought my arms up. She struck my guard, once, twice, three times. Each hit rattled my bones. I backed into the damaged barrier.
“Left,” she snapped.
“What?”
“Move left!”
I moved. Her fist passed my cheek and smashed into the barrier instead.
The metal split.
Wren stared at the opening. “You could’ve said thank you.”
“Thank you for almost taking my head off.”
“You’re welcome.”
I grabbed her sleeve and pulled. She lost balance. We hit the floor together, her shoulder against my chest, my hand caught between us.
The black light surged.
Wren sucked in a sharp breath.
“Ellis,” she said, low enough that the microphones almost missed it.
“What?”
“Don’t move.”
“That’s usually my line.”
“Don’t.”
Her palm pressed over my hand. Warm skin. Steady pressure. Her face was inches from mine, close enough for me to see the tiny gold flecks around her pupils.
The pain eased.
Not gone. Just quieter.
I stared at her. “What did you do?”
“Linked the output.”
“You said the link takes damage.”
“It does.”
“Then move.”
“I’m trying to keep you standing.”
“I can stand.”
“You’re on the floor.”
“Technicality.”
The crowd screamed again as the camera zoomed in.
Cade sounded delighted. “Hold that position! Perfect chemistry!”
Wren’s eyes narrowed. “I’m going to kill him.”
“Get in line.”
The black light pulsed between our hands. Wren’s fingers tightened around mine.
“Lean on me,” she whispered. “Don’t fall.”
The words hit harder than her punches.
I swallowed. “You giving orders again?”
“Yes.”
“What if I don’t?”
“Then I hold you up.”
“That sounds dangerous.”
“It is.”
Her thumb shifted against my knuckles. The small movement sent a hot shiver up my arm.
I should’ve pulled away.
I didn’t.
Instead, I pushed up with her help. Our shoulders stayed pressed together as we faced the cameras. Wren took most of my weight without letting the audience see it.
“Your fans are going to love this,” I muttered.
“They already do.”
“Not you. Me.”
“Don’t get excited.”
The comments on the side screens became a solid blur.
STAR GIRL SAVED HER.
THE VILLAIN TRUSTS HER!
WRENELLIS IS REAL.
“Wrenellis?” I said.
“Don’t read them.”
“That ship name is terrible.”
“You’re the one staring at it.”
“I’m checking the threat level.”
“Sure.”
Cade cut in. “Final exchange. Wren, disarm her. Ellis, give us the big collapse.”
“No,” Wren said.
Cade’s voice cooled. “That wasn’t a suggestion.”
“I’m not slamming her into the floor again.”
“Then the contract marks you noncompliant.”
Wren looked at the nearest camera. Her smile returned, but it was tight enough to crack. “You hear that? Our boss wants another hit.”
I leaned toward the lens. “He’s worried the audience might notice he’s a coward.”
The comment counter jumped.
Cade swore over the comms. “Take her down.”
Wren’s hand slid from mine to my waist. She pulled me close enough that her jacket brushed my arm.
“On three,” she whispered.
“You’re going to throw me.”
“I’m going to catch you.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
“One.”
“Wren.”
“Two.”
Her grip tightened.
“Don’t miss,” I said.
“Three.”
She spun me hard. I went with it, using her momentum instead of fighting it. My boots left the mat. Wren caught me against her, one arm locked around my back, the other braced behind my neck.
The move looked brutal from the front camera.
It didn’t feel brutal.
It felt like her heartbeat was punching against my ribs.
“You’re supposed to be on the ground,” she breathed.
“You’re supposed to let go.”
“Can you walk?”
“Can you stop asking?”
“Answer me.”
I tried to straighten.
My knees buckled.
Wren caught me tighter. Her mouth came close to my ear.
“Lean on me,” she said again. “Don’t fall.”
The audience went wild.
Cade shouted something, but the cheers swallowed it.
The black fragment in my palm suddenly flared.
I gasped and grabbed Wren’s jacket. A sharp line of heat tore up my arm, then jumped into the space between us. Wren stiffened.
“What was that?” she asked.
“Nothing.”
“Your hand is burning.”
“Keep smiling.”
“Ellis—”
“Camera.”
She looked at the lens, then back at me. Her expression went still.
“You’re scared,” she whispered.
“Don’t say that.”
“Why?”
“Because then I might admit it.”
For one beat, Wren forgot the audience.
Her fingers rose toward my face. They stopped just short of my cheek, hovering beside the bruise forming there.
I held my breath.
She lowered her hand.
Cade’s voice cut through the arena. “End pose. Now.”
Wren pushed me upright. I managed to stay standing, though my legs shook beneath me.
She stepped behind my shoulder and caught my wrist, hiding the black glow from the main camera.
The stream ended with the two of us locked together, her white light wrapped around my dark one.
The LIVE icon vanished.
The studio fell quiet for exactly two seconds.
Then Cade burst through the side door, clapping.
“That was incredible.”
“You mean painful,” I said.
“Pain sells.”
Wren let go of me and turned on him. “You changed the fight without warning.”
“And you went off script.”
“I protected my partner.”
Cade’s gaze flicked to me. “That’s what the audience thinks.”
“Good,” Wren said.
“No. Better.” He held up his tablet. “The audience thinks you two are obsessed with each other.”
I wiped blood from my lip. “They need hobbies.”
“They need a romance.”
Wren’s face went white. “Absolutely not.”
Cade tapped the screen. “The numbers disagree.”
“Then fix the numbers.”
“Can’t. The network already approved the next segment.”
“What next segment?” I asked.
Cade smiled at the tablet.
A notification chimed from every screen in the room.
NEW PERFORMANCE DIRECTIVE: RIVALRY ARC—EPISODE SIX.
Wren snatched the tablet from his hand. Her eyes moved across the screen.
“No,” she said.
Cade reached for it. “Give that back.”
She shoved him away with one hand. “You added a kiss scene?”
My hand went cold.
Then the black fragment under my skin began to burn.
I looked down. A thin line of dark light crawled across my palm, matching the words glowing on the tablet.
MANDATORY CONTACT: WREN STARR MUST KISS ELLIS NOELLE ON CAMERA.
Wren stared at my hand.
Cade’s smile disappeared. “Ellis, don’t activate anything.”
“I’m not doing this.”
“You don’t get to choose.”
Wren stepped in front of me, blocking Cade and the cameras at once. Her fingers closed around my wrist. The heat jumped between us.
“Look at me,” she said.
“I am looking at you.”
“No, you’re looking at the exit.”
“Because I want to leave.”
“You can’t.”
“Then stop me.”
Her grip tightened. Her face was inches from mine again, but this time there was no fight to hide behind. No audience noise. No fake villain act.
Only the tablet glowing between us.
Cade’s voice sharpened. “Wren. Follow the script, or I trigger the debt clause.”
Her jaw clenched.
I saw the exact second he found the place to hurt her.
“What does it take?” I asked.
Wren’s eyes snapped to mine. “Don’t.”
“What does he have on you?”
“Ellis.”
Cade stepped closer. “She has a reputation worth protecting. You have a life worth keeping. Don’t confuse the two.”
The fragment burned harder.
Wren’s thumb pressed against the inside of my wrist. Her pulse beat beneath my fingers where our hands touched.
“Tell him no,” I whispered.
“You first.”
“I already did.”
“And look where that got you.”
The tablet chimed again.
LIVE REHEARSAL REQUIRED IN SIXTY SECONDS.
Cade pointed at the nearest camera. “The network wants the moment raw. No stunt doubles. No edits.”
Wren looked at me.
I could feel her breath against my mouth now. Warm. Unsteady.
“You hate me,” she said.
“Convenient, isn’t it?”
“Answer me.”
“I hate what you represent.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
The fragment flared black between our joined hands.
Wren’s eyes dropped to my lips, then lifted again. Her hand slid from my wrist to my shoulder, holding me in place while her other hand reached toward the tablet.
Cade raised his voice. “Thirty seconds.”
“Don’t do this,” I said.
“I’m not doing it for him.”
“Then why?”
“Because if I don’t, he’ll use the contract to—”
“Wren.”
She stopped.
The camera light turned red.
The directive refreshed across the screen.
MANDATORY CONTACT. TEN SECONDS.
Wren leaned closer. Her fingers tightened against my shoulder. The black fragment burned like it was waiting for a command.
“Ellis,” she whispered, “if you pull away, they’ll trigger the stabilization process, and I don’t know what it will do to you, but if you stay, I have to—”