The air in the principal's office was tense.
Miles sat slumped in the chair, his fingers picking at the frayed edges of his hoodie sleeves. Across from him, Principal Hargrove stared at him, her lips pressed into a thin line. Beside Miles was his father, Davis Thomas.
"$3,800 in damages," Hargrove said, sliding the invoice across the desk, "And a three-day suspension."
Davis snatched the paper, his jaw tightening as he scanned the numbers, "You've got to be kidding me."
Miles kept his eyes on the floor. "I didn't mean to—"
"You never mean to!" Davis snapped, crumpling the invoice in his fist, "That's the problem! If you'd just wear the damn bracelet—"
Miles flinched.
The bracelet.
A sleek, silver cuff designed to suppress his Trigger. To keep her locked away.
Principal Hargrove cleared her throat, "Mr. Thomas, we've been lenient because of Miles'… condition. But if this happens again—"
"It won't," Davis growled, standing abruptly. "Come on, Miles. We're leaving."
---
The car ride was suffocating.
Davis white-knuckled the steering wheel, his anger radiating in waves. Miles stared out the window, watching the city blur past.
"You're eighteen," Davis finally said, "You can't keep acting like a scared kid. That thing inside you—it's not your friend, Miles."
Miles' fingers twitched.
"Liar," the wyrm whispered in his mind, "I'm the only one who sees you."
"I know," Miles muttered.
Davis exhaled sharply, "Then put the bracelet on. Before you hurt someone."
Miles didn't answer.
---
Back in his room, Miles held the bracelet in his palm. The metal was cold, impersonal.
"Don't," the wyrm hissed, her voice slithering through his thoughts, "They want to cage you. To make you weak."
Miles hesitated.
"Remember Jackie? Remember how he laughed?" The wyrm's presence coiled tighter, "Let me protect you. Just once."
His hands shook.
Then—his phone rang.
"Miles, my star!" Mr. Perfect's shout through the phone, "The Hero Analysis is within a few weeks! And guess what? If you ace it, we both get paid."
Miles swallowed, "I… I don't think I should go."
"*Nonsense!" Mr. Perfect laughed, "Listen, kid—life's a scam. Heroes, villains, all of it. But you know what's real? Cold, hard cash. And you, my boy, are a *goldmine*."**
Miles closed his eyes.
"He's using you," the wyrm murmured.
"So suit up," Mr. Perfect continued, "Show 'em what you've got. And when you're standing on that podium, rich and famous?"
A pause.
"Nobody will laugh at you again."
Silence.
Then—
Miles dropped the bracelet onto his desk.
"…I'll do it."
The wyrm purred in satisfaction.