The next morning, Lili lingered under the stream of the shower longer than usual. The water was scalding, but it did nothing to wash away the tremble in her hands. Her fingers pressed to the tiled wall, her breath measured only because panic threatened otherwise.
Today would change everything. No longer the exile. No longer the half-shadow haunting corridors where whispers trailed behind her with suspicion. After today, they would see her not as a threat tolerated, but as a teammate—someone to rely on and who belonged. Her chest ached at the weight of that thought. She took a deep breath.
Today, she told herself. Today, I leave my past behind.
Was she ready? She didn’t know. That world—the one with chains, with betrayal, with blood on her palms—it didn’t want her anymore. But that didn’t mean she knew how to live in this one either.
She stepped out of the shower, dressed in black. Long sleeves, sleek pants, nothing flashy. Only practical and controlled. She tied her hair back into a high ponytail, pulling it tight until it stilled the shake in her fingers.
Without another word or thought, Lili stepped out of her quarters and into the waking corridors of the base. Her path led straight to Rafael’s office—where she knew he would be, and where Mike would no doubt be waiting too.
She reached Rafael’s door and paused, just long enough to hear voices murmuring inside.
She knocked twice.
“Come in,” Rafael called, his tone already anticipating her arrival.
Lili opened the door and stepped inside. Rafael stood by the window, hands behind his back, his gaze steady as it met hers. Mike sat at the edge of the desk, arms crossed, his expression unreadable—but softer than before.
“I’ve made my decision,” she said.
Mike arched an eyebrow, but didn’t interrupt.
Rafael turned fully now, nodding once. “And?”
Lili took in a slow breath. “I’ll join the team.”
Rafael stepped forward, the lines on his face deepened. “This is a commitment, Lili. Not just a title.”
“I know,” she replied, and her voice didn’t shake this time. “I spoke with the team yesterday. That’s why I needed the day. I needed to be sure… that I wasn’t walking into this alone.”
Mike tilted his head, curious. Rafael raised a brow. “You spoke with Lukas and Adam?”
Lili offered a small, almost mischievous smirk as she tilted her head slightly to the side, revealing the faint bruise blooming on her cheek.
“I did,” she said, with something that wasn’t quite pride, but close. “We boxed. Proper sparring match this time. No one drugged anyone.”
Mike exhaled a short, startled chuckle under his breath. Rafael, however, studied her a second longer.
“And?” he finally asked.
“They didn’t hold back,” Lili said. “But neither did I. And in the end… I think they saw the true me.”
Rafael nodded thoughtfully. “That’s how trust is usually forged in this place.”
“And choices,” she added. “Mine’s made.”
She stood straighter as the words left her mouth.
Mike reached into his pocket, retrieving a small box wrapped in black velvet, understated yet solid. He opened it slowly, revealing the badge inside.
He raised it to her. “Welcome to the team, Lili,” he said, his voice low but resolute. “Let’s make sure they never forget why we brought you in… and why they should never underestimate you again.”
Lili looked at the badge, then at the two men, finally her fingers closing around the symbol short after.
***
Lili stepped out of Rafael’s office with her shoulders squared and the badge clipped firmly to her side. Beside her walked Mike, with an expression marked by a flicker of pride.
“I asked everyone to wait outside,” he said as they moved down the corridor toward the base’s main exit.
When the doors opened, sunlight greeted them. Outside, the gravel crunched under boots and watchful eyes turned toward them. Soldiers stood at ease around the perimeter, guarding not just the grounds—but the uncertain balance within it. But it wasn’t the soldiers Lili focused on.
There they were—Notori, arms crossed and eyes locked on hers the moment she emerged; Lukas and Adam standing on either side, more reserved but undeniably present; and finally, Katika, whose gaze burned not with hostility, but something far more complicated.
Mike cleared his throat once they reached the center of the open courtyard. “Lili is now one of us.”
There were no cheers. No applause. Just the solemn silence of respect. The kind that weighed more than celebration ever could.
“She won’t be sent on solo assignments yet,” Mike continued. “First, she’ll learn how we operate. By the book. That means a teammate.”
Lili turned slightly, catching movement in the corner of her eye—Notori, taking a subtle step forward, his mouth parting as if to offer himself without hesitation.
But Mike raised a brow and shook his head before a word could leave his lips. “You two are a destructive force together,” he said, the faintest smile tugging at his lips. “It won’t be you, Notori.”
Notori paused, lips pressed tight, but he didn’t argue.
“Let me.” Katika told while stepping forward, her head held high. “I have a lot to teach her.”
All eyes shifted to Lili. Lili met Katika’s gaze calmly.
“Very well,” Mike said after a pause, stepping back with a nod. “I’ll leave you to it then. Tomorrow, you’ll both receive your first joint assignment.”
Then he turned, gaze narrowing as it landed on Lukas and Adam, who remained still at the edge of the circle—arms crossed, jaws tight, and silent since the moment Lili had walked out into the sun with a badge.
“You two have nothing to say?” Mike asked with a challenge of his own.
Lukas shifted slightly, eyes flicking toward Lili, then to the badge at her side. “She’s earned it,” he said finally, the words stiff in his throat, but sincere.
Adam gave a slow nod, folding his arms tighter. “Doesn’t mean I trust her yet,” he added, then glanced at Lili. “But I’m willing to see what she does with that badge.”
Lili didn’t flinch. “I don’t need your trust,” she said quietly. “Just your eyes open when it matters.”
Mike gave a faint, almost imperceptible smile. “Good.”
As the quiet murmurs of the courtyard began to fade behind them, Katika turned slightly, casting a glance over her shoulder. “Follow me.”
Lili raised a brow but didn’t ask questions. She moved beside Katika. Their path led them through the outer corridor and toward the old training stadium, a structure still bearing the scorched scars and cracked foundations left behind from Lili and Notori’s last blazing collision. The wind whispered through the open arches.
Lili’s eyes narrowed. “Are we going to train?”
“No.” Katika’s answer came sharp. She didn’t slow down, didn’t even look back. “You know how to fight, Lili. That’s never been the issue.” Katika stopped in the center of the field and finally turned, eyes locking onto Lili’s. “But you still don’t understand what I meant yesterday,” she continued, voice low and loaded. “You have no damn clue what it means to show yourself to this team.”
Lili tilted her head slightly, arms folding. “I walked up to Adam and Lukas. I fought them. I didn’t walk away from it. I didn’t run.”
“That’s not showing yourself,” Katika snapped, taking a step forward. “That’s survival. That’s proving you’re not afraid to bleed, and trust me, we already know you’re good at that.”
Lili’s brow furrowed, her jaw tightening.
“You think carrying Cova out half-dead was enough?” Katika asked, voice rising just a notch. “You think earning a badge makes them see you? No. That’s not what makes you one of us.”
“Then what does?” Lili asked quietly.
Katika pointed a finger at Lili’s chest. “Letting them see who you are when the fight’s over. When the badge is on. When the wounds are stitched..”
Silence fell and in it, Lili felt something shift inside her ribs.
“You still think you’re here to earn our approval,” Katika said softer now. “But this isn’t about earning anything anymore, Lili. This is about giving.”
“Giving what?”
“Yourself.” A breath. A pause. “That’s the only way we survive each other.”
Lili stood still, as if the words themselves struck a nerve she hadn’t known was raw. “How… how am I supposed to do that?” she asked at last, voice rough with something close to vulnerability.
Katika’s brows rise in disbelief. “What are you? An alien?” she asked, incredulous. “Jesus, Lili.”
Lili let out a long sigh and looked away, shoulders drawing up in quiet defense. “I… When I was with the mafia, showing yourself—anything soft, anything real—that’s how you ended up dead. That’s how they broke you. I learned to build walls, not bridges.”
Katika’s features shifted—still stern, but softer now.
“To open up now… it feels like handing over a knife and asking someone to stab me with it,” Lili went on. “Like acknowledging I already lost. That I’m… weak.”
“No.” Katika stepped closer, her voice firm. “It’s not weakness. It’s the opposite. You want to be part of this team? Then you have to stop treating connection like it’s a liability.”
Lili didn’t respond immediately. Her eyes drifted toward the stadium stands, empty and burned. Echoes of fights still lingering somewhere in her head.
“I don’t know how to do it,” she finally admitted. “Not without feeling like I’m about to fall apart.”
Katika gave a small, dry laugh. “Then fall apart. Let us see it. That’s how we know you’re real. That’s how we start trusting you.”
Lili didn’t answer, but her posture shifted, the ever-present guard in her eyes faltering just enough to show something more fragile and honest beneath it and Katika saw it.
“That’s more like it,” she murmured, almost to herself, then stepped forward and gave Lili’s shoulder a firm, grounding pat.
“We’re going out tonight,” Katika added. “A team drink. You should come. And I hope you keep that expression on your face. The one that finally looks like a person, not a fortress.”
Lili blinked, caught off guard. “What?” she asked, voice low with disbelief. “While Cova is still in the medical wing? That doesn’t sound right…”
“No one’s celebrating, Lili. We’re breathing together. That’s what nights like these are for.” Her voice was gentler now. “You think staying away is loyalty, but isolating yourself won’t heal her, and it sure as hell won’t help the rest of us trust you.”
Lili hesitated, her eyes wavered—torn between instinct and instinct’s quiet death.
“She’s my friend too,” Katika added. “That’s why I’ll raise a glass in her name tonight because when she wakes up, I want her to find us standing, not shattered.”
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