CHAPTER 40: THE EVE
The sunset painted the kitchen window orange and gold.
I stood at the stove with Danny's good steaks sizzling in the pan, the ones he'd been saving for a special occasion. Taylor's favorite mashed potatoes were already done, keeping warm in a covered pot. Green beans with garlic butter, the way Mom used to make them according to the recipe card still pinned to the fridge.
Danny sat at the table, watching me cook with an expression I couldn't quite read.
"Special occasion?" he asked.
"Just felt like doing something nice."
The lie tasted like ash. But I couldn't tell him the truth—that tomorrow an Endbringer would hit Brockton Bay, that the city I'd learned to call home might not survive the week, that this dinner might be the last meal we shared as a family.
Taylor came downstairs as I was plating, her hair still damp from a shower. She stopped in the doorway, surprised by the spread on the table.
"Whoa. What's the occasion?"
"Your brother's being mysterious," Danny said. "Sit down before it gets cold."
We ate. Danny asked about Taylor's school—she mentioned Charlotte again, the new friend who liked bugs—and I memorized the way her face lit up when she talked about something that made her happy. I memorized Danny's tired smile, the gray at his temples, the calluses on his hands from work that barely paid enough.
This might be the last time.
The thought sat in my chest like a stone.
"This is really good," Taylor said around a mouthful of steak. "When did you learn to cook like this?"
"Practice." I pushed the mashed potatoes toward her. "Have more."
Danny's fork paused halfway to his mouth. He looked at me—really looked—and something in his expression shifted. He recognized the gesture for what it was, even if he didn't know the context.
"Evan," he said quietly. "Is everything okay?"
"Yeah. Everything's fine."
Another lie. Danny nodded slowly, but his hands went still around his fork. He knew something was wrong. He just didn't know what.
I finished my plate and cleared the dishes while Taylor helped with cleanup. Danny stayed at the table, nursing a beer, his eyes tracking me around the kitchen.
"I need to go out tonight," I said. "Check on some people."
"Cape business?"
"Sort of."
Danny nodded. "Be careful."
"I will."
Taylor looked up from the sink. "You're being weird tonight."
"Am I?"
"Yeah." She dried her hands on a towel. "Good weird, though. The cooking was nice."
I hugged her. Held it a beat too long, long enough that she squirmed.
"Okay, definitely weird," she said, pulling back. But she was smiling.
I hugged Danny too. His arms came up automatically, wrapping around me with the same awkward warmth I'd learned to expect from him.
"Whatever it is," he murmured near my ear, "just come home."
"I'll try."
It was the best I could offer.
The loft was quiet when I arrived.
Brian had the full team assembled—Rachel in the corner with her dogs, Alec sprawled on the couch, Lisa at her laptop with a expression I recognized as controlled fear. The windows were dark, curtains drawn, and the only light came from Lisa's screen and the emergency lamps positioned around the room.
"He's here," Lisa said without looking up. "Close the door."
I closed it. The lock clicked with finality.
"What's this about?" Alec asked. "The cryptic summons are usually Lisa's thing, not—"
"Seismic activity offshore," Lisa interrupted. "Significant readings on multiple sensors. Pattern matches historical data from previous Endbringer attacks."
The room went silent.
"Which one?" Brian asked.
Lisa looked at me. The question was in her eyes: Is this what you meant?
"Leviathan," I said. "Tomorrow. Brockton Bay."
Brian's jaw tightened. Rachel's dogs whined. Alec's usual boredom evaporated, replaced by something that looked a lot like fear.
"How sure are you?" Brian asked.
"Certain."
"And you know this because..."
"My power." The partial truth Lisa and I had agreed on. "Precognitive elements. I've been... watching for this."
Brian processed this for a moment. Then he nodded, accepting the explanation because there wasn't time to question it.
"How bad?" he asked.
"Worse than Bakuda. Worse than anything we've faced." I moved to the territory map on the wall, still marked with bomb sites and patrol routes. "Leviathan targets coastal cities. Brockton Bay's waterfront will take the first hit. From there, he pushes inland, destroying infrastructure and casualties mounting with every block."
"Casualties." Lisa's voice was flat. "Give me a number."
"In my projections? Dozens of capes. Hundreds of civilians. Maybe more."
"And us?"
I didn't answer. Couldn't answer. In my meta-knowledge, the Undersiders survived Leviathan—but that was a different timeline, a different team composition, a world where Taylor's bugs had been present to change the flow of battle.
"We prepare," I said instead. "Safe houses, evacuation routes, gear checks. The Endbringer truce means capes fight together regardless of affiliation. When the sirens go off, we respond."
"And if we don't?" Alec asked. "If we just... leave?"
"Then other people die in our place." I met his eyes. "And we live with that."
Alec looked away first.
The team dispersed after the briefing—Rachel to secure her dogs, Alec to whatever he did when he was scared, Lisa to coordinate with her contacts and verify what I'd told her. Brian stayed.
We stood in the main room, alone, with the emergency lights casting long shadows across the floor.
"You knew," Brian said. It wasn't a question.
"Yes."
"For how long?"
"Since before I joined the team."
He absorbed this. His expression didn't change, but something in his posture shifted—not anger, exactly. Something more complicated.
"And you didn't tell me."
"I couldn't. Telling you would have changed things, maybe made them worse. The timeline is... fragile."
"The timeline." Brian's voice was flat. "You sound like Lisa when she's hiding something."
"She knows. Part of it, anyway. We have an arrangement."
"And me?" He stepped closer. "What do I get?"
I didn't have an answer. The space between us felt charged, heavy with everything we hadn't said and everything we might not get the chance to.
"Do you expect to die tomorrow?" Brian asked.
"Yes." The honesty came easier than I expected. "Multiple times, probably. Leviathan kills capes by the dozen. I'll be in the thick of it."
"Because of your power."
"Because of who I am." I met his eyes. "I can come back. Most people can't. If my deaths buy time for others to escape..."
"Then you'll keep dying." Brian's voice cracked. "Over and over, until the battle ends or your power gives out."
"Yes."
The silence stretched. Brian's hands flexed at his sides—the same hands that had trained me, had caught me when I stumbled, had almost touched my arm that night in the hallway.
Then he reached out and took my hand.
Not a combat grip. Not a pat on the shoulder. Just his fingers lacing through mine, warm and solid and present.
"I can't stop you," he said quietly. "I know that. But I need you to know—"
"I know."
"No." His grip tightened. "Let me say it. I need you to know that you matter. Not just your power, not just what you can do for the team. You. The person who cooks dinner for his family and cleans up the loft without being asked and looks at me like—"
He stopped. Started again.
"Come back," he said. "However many times it takes. Come back."
I squeezed his hand.
"I always do."
The walk home was quiet.
The city felt different in the dark—waiting, holding its breath. The streets were empty except for the occasional car, and the buildings stood silent against the night sky. Tomorrow, some of them wouldn't exist anymore.
I reached the Hebert house and let myself in through the back door. Danny had already locked up for the night; Taylor's music played faintly through her bedroom wall.
I lay in my childhood bed and listened to the house settle around me.
Last night, I thought. Last night before everything changes.
The metal-sense fragment hummed against the springs of my mattress, the pipes in the walls, the fixtures throughout the house. Without the echolocation, the world felt quieter—smaller, somehow. Less information, less awareness, less warning.
Two fragments, I thought. Two fragments against an Endbringer.
It wasn't enough. It would never be enough.
But it was what I had.
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