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I don’t want forgiveness. I don’t want pity. I’ve made my choices.

If you think I’m a hero, you’re wrong. If you think I’m a victim, you’re wrong.

I’m just a woman who did what needed to be done.

Callum Rowe is dead.

Figure the rest of it out for yourselves.”

The Unified Council has declined further comment, citing the ongoing investigation.

Crowds outside the hospital and the Ironside Academy campuses have swelled into the thousands.

Pro-Gifted demonstrators are calling for formal protection of Olivia Frisk, despite her clear admission of guilt.

Some are labelling it an act of political vigilantism.

Formal charges have not yet been announced.

“He’s dead.” Isobel tasted the words, the finality of them, as a huge weight lifted from her chest.

Gabriel’s body tightened behind her, his eyes still fixed to the screen like it might change, like there might be more coming, another alert, or a retraction.

“He’s dead,” Isobel repeated, this time louder. The words cracked through the silence.

A murmur passed through the room, a shared sound torn between relief and disbelief.

Before anyone could respond, Isobel’s phone buzzed in her hand.

Braun: It’s done.

Her heart seized. She tapped the link beneath the text and held it up as the page loaded.

FRANCE JOINS THE EUROPEAN HUMAN RIGHTS ACCORD FOR THE GIFTED.

Their group pressed closer for a moment, all trying to read her phone screen before Gabriel announced, “Found it,” bringing the article up on the larger screen.

Isobel dropped her phone down, scanning the words below the headline.

The French government has formally ratified its commitment to the European Coalition for Gifted Rights, signing into effect a new constitutional provision recognising all Gifted citizens as full legal persons under the law.

France becomes the thirteenth European country to join the coalition today, marking a monumental shift in continental policy.

As the primary host of the “Ironside Show,” France’s commitment sends a definitive message: The era of sanctioned exploitation is over.

“This has been a long time coming,” the Minister of Justice stated during a joint address this afternoon. “We cannot rewrite the past, but we can reframe the future.”

The announcement follows the resignations of multiple cabinet members, as well as sweeping indictments issued by the International Criminal Tribunal against former Ironside officials. Investigations continue into the Stone Dahlia Operation.

France’s alignment with the European Coalition signals not only a commitment to justice, but a unified stance on Gifted rights across the continent.

“Well,” Moses said, snatching the keys to the van off the table beside Elijah’s laptop and striding to the steel door. He passed into the hallway without another word, and Isobel, shocked, chased after him. She could feel the others behind her.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“To buy alcohol.” He strode outside without looking back.

“Did he just … leave?” Maya asked.

“To buy alcohol,” Niko confirmed, ambling out after him .

Gabriel followed.

“He doesn’t have an ID.” Elijah sighed, shaking his head, though he was only a few steps behind.

Mikel grabbed the second set of keys, following Elijah. “We’re in the woods—he’s not going to a bar. He’s going to find a countryside épicerie, get interrogated by a grandmother named Francoise, and come back with one bottle of overpriced Calvados and a baguette.”

“I want a baguette,” Kilian said, already shrugging on his jacket. “I’m going with him.”

“All right, everyone shut up,” Kalen said, holding up his hands. Isobel waited for him to order them back into the bunker, but instead, he pointed to the door. “Head out to the vans.”

“We’ll wait here,” Maya said, clutching Luis to her leg, her mouth a tight line of anxiety.

Kalen nodded, and the rest of them spilled outside.

“Wait.” Elijah was already pushing past them to re-enter the bunker. He emerged again with a handful of contact cases, handing them out to their respective owners as Sophia and Bellamy watched.

Nobody questioned Elijah. The world might have claimed to change overnight, but there were some things they still wanted to keep to themselves.

She could feel it through the bond—the covetous, protective emotions as her Alphas covered up their multihued irises.

She did the same and felt something settle within them all.

A decision they didn’t even have to discuss.

This was private. This was theirs. This was something they didn’t need to explain to anyone else, let alone the entire world. They had already given enough.

Kalen and Mikel led the way as Oscar and Niko caught each of her hands, their fingers twisting through hers as they made their way to where the vans were hidden.

They spilled into the two vehicles, Kalen and Mikel driving again.

Kalen turned on the radio, tuning into the news coverage of Callum Rowe’s death and the legislative changes on Gifted rights as the road curled through sleepy countryside, passing thick woods, pale fields, and the occasional bare, wooden fence.

An hour later, they stopped at a small shop tucked beside a petrol station.

The man behind the counter glanced up at the sheer number of them walking in, his eyes growing wide as they shot from face to face, settling on Isobel’s before flicking to the low hum of the small TV screen behind him, which was currently displaying an image of her face, with the headline: Gifted Whistleblower Group Still Missing.

The image on screen shifted to a protest outside Ironside Academy, with signs held high above the heads of the crowd.

PLEASE COME HOME.

YOU’RE SAFE NOW.

WE LOVE YOU.

“Oh la vache!” the shopkeeper said, mouth falling open .

“He said something about a cow,” Moses translated. “I … think.”

Sophia waved at the shopkeeper. His eyes bugged out even further.

Moses pulled out his phone and typed something into a translator app, holding it up to the man as the phone spoke his words in French. Isobel glanced at his screen.

We need alcohol.

The man pointed a shaking finger behind them, and they all turned to peruse the cluttered shelves.

Cian found three dusty bottles of white wine near the back. Gabriel picked out a few more bottles. Sophia and Bellamy stacked their arms with cheeses, crackers, and packets of dried fruit. Elijah found chocolate.

Kilian snagged two baguettes from a basket by the door, inspecting them with narrowed, pale eyes, before deciding they were good enough to eat. He grabbed three more, then shrugged and took the last one as well.

Mikel, standing beside the coolers, called, “We’re not getting drunk on an empty stomach. Somebody grab real food.”

“Am I invisible?” Kilian asked, making Moses snort.

“I found ham,” Niko announced, holding up a vacuum-sealed pack.

Oscar narrowed his eyes on a tin of lentils that had been added to the counter. He put it back with a shudder, grumbling, “No cans. ”

The shopkeeper hadn’t moved. His hands were planted on the counter, knuckles white. His gaze fell back on Isobel.

“We have money,” she assured him, holding out her credit card for him to take.

He blinked, his voice faint. “Vous êtes… les enfants d’Ironside?”

Theodore pulled out his phone, typing the sentence into his translator app. He and Moses both had a far better understanding of French than the rest of them.

“You are the children of Ironside,” the app vocalised.

Theodore looked down at himself. “Enfants?” he asked, blinking. “Did he just call me a child?”

The shopkeeper looked horrified and immediately began shaking both his head and his hands. “Pas des enfants, pas des enfants. Je suis désolé!”

“He’s apologising profusely,” Moses told them, though they had all gathered that much.

To hide his embarrassment, the shopkeeper hurriedly packed their haul, and as the final bottle clinked into the bag, he looked down at the register with a shellshocked expression. “Tout est gratuit,” he murmured, then louder, with conviction: “Pour vous, c’est gratuit.”

Theodore typed the words into his app, which said, “Everything is free. For you, it’s free.”

Oscar gave a low whistle. “That’s a first.”

Elijah reached over the register to ring them up anyway, and the small card machine blinked to life.

Isobel had no idea how he knew which buttons to press to make it all happen, but he swiped her card and handed it back to her.

“I am not about to be arrested for shoplifting a dozen bottles of wine and a baguette,” he muttered.

“Six baguettes.” Kilian looked down at himself. “Seriously, am I invisible?”

Isobel chuckled at Kilian and thanked the shopkeeper, who was hurrying out from behind the counter.

He grabbed several things from his shelves—two jars of fig jam, butter biscuits, a tin of sardines in lemon oil, and a small box of macarons—hurriedly pushing them into Isobel’s arms with mumbled French words.

Oscar plucked the tin of sardines out of the pile and silently handed it back, making their whole group pause.

To their surprise, the shopkeeper started laughing, like Oscar was hilarious.

He nodded several times, rushing back to the shelf and returning the tin.

He held out a packet of chestnuts, and Oscar nodded, like this was an acceptable trade.

For the first time, the shopkeeper smiled—truly beamed, crooked teeth on full display, wrinkles folding into his cheeks, eyes sparkling.

He handed the chestnuts to Oscar and then waved them all off, grinning at them as they carried their haul back to the vans under a sky that was just beginning to soften with sunset. They piled back inside, and Sophia popped open a bottle of wine before they had even pulled out of the lot.

“To the end of the games,” Kilian said, opening another bottle.

Moses fished out his own. “And to getting absolutely wrecked in a forest bunker no one can find.”

The next morning, they left the bunker.

Stuffed uncomfortably into the two vans, with raging hangovers and gnawing nerves, they drove back to Ironside. They listened to French pop songs on the radio, not the news.

It was the most trust she had ever placed in her father, and she was nervous, but he had reassured her and the others over and over again that the Unified Council were prepared to receive them and protect them.

And he was right.

The police had already cleared out a pathway for them through the gathered protestors and news vans, sweeping them past reporters who screamed for a statement, drowned out by the cheers that gradually rose in volume from the gathered crowd until the noise felt like it was pounding beneath Isobel’s feet.

Her father didn’t leave her side that day, as he fought for them to get settled in comfortable accommodations before the police descended to get their statements.

He held off a tidal wave of people all eager to speak to them, insisting that they needed rest and health checks first.

He guarded them through the first month of changes, against the police, the lawyers, and even the Unified Council.

Everyone wanted a piece of them, but all they got was Braun Carter’s scowling face.

When it became clear that their Gifted rights weren’t going to up and disappear overnight, Kalen and Mikel stepped up to reaffirm their roles as the true leaders of their group.

They negotiated with the lawyers to have all of their private recordings excluded from the Stone Dahlia trials.

They weren’t needed. There was more than enough evidence to put every implicated official behind bars, and they had already shared enough of their lives with the cameras.

They survived the changes, and then they survived the trial, and then … at some point, they stopped surviving and began to wonder what it would feel like to start living.

Suddenly, they had all the time in the world to figure it out.