When Miles Vance stepped out of the elevator, his legs were weak.
It wasn’t from fear.
It was anger!
The fury burned in his chest like a fire, leaving his throat parched.
Homelander knew everything.
He knew about Butcher, the Nokia phone, Mrs.
Park, and the photos Miles had taken.
But he didn’t care.
He felt completely in control—as if every piece on the board was his to move, and every step was exactly as he had planned.
Miles walked through the crowd.
The gala was still underway, the crystal chandeliers still blazed, and the champagne towers still bubbled.
Everyone was laughing, clinking glasses, and chatting.
No one noticed a pale-faced intern stepping out of the elevator.
A hand caught him by the wrist.
He whipped his head around.
It was Starlight.
She looked at him without saying a word, but her eyes spoke volumes.
She pulled him through the crowd, past the champagne tower, and pushed open a side door leading into a quiet hallway.
At the end of the hallway was a small balcony overlooking the Manhattan night sky.
Starlight shut the door.
The music and chatter were cut off.
The balcony was quiet, save for the occasional honk of a car horn in the distance.
“You saw him?” Starlight asked.
Miles leaned against the railing and looked down at his hands.
They were still trembling slightly.
“He knows everything.”
Starlight was silent for a moment.
“Then now you know. In this world, the more you know, the faster you die.”
Miles looked up at her.
The night wind blew, stirring the stray hairs on her forehead.
The hem of her blue dress swayed gently in the breeze.
“Then why aren’t you dead yet?” he asked.
Starlight looked at him.
There was a mix of emotions in her eyes—weariness, helplessness, and a hint of…
tenderness.
“Because I pretend I don’t know anything.”
Miles looked into her eyes.
He suddenly realized that Starlight had been trapped in this living hell for three years.
Three years.
Smiling in her uniform every day.
Saying things she didn’t believe in front of the cameras every day.
Hanging around the people she loathed every day.
Pretending she knew absolutely nothing every day.
He looked at her face.
Not the face on the magazine covers, and not the smiling face from the morning meetings.
This was the real her—with tiny lines of fatigue at the corners of her eyes, her lips pursed slightly as if she were holding something back.
“I deleted your location history for you,” Miles said.
Starlight froze.
“From now on, no one will know where you go or what you do.”
Starlight was stunned.
The night wind swept between them, carrying the scents of the city—exhaust fumes, roasted hot dogs, and the faint tang of the distant river.
For the first time in this world, she felt like someone was protecting her.
It wasn’t the “I’ll defeat the bad guys” kind of protection.
It wasn’t the “I’m a superhero so I can protect you” kind.
It was the kind that said, *I know you’re trapped, so I’m unlocking the cage for you.*
Starlight took a step forward.
And then she kissed him.
It wasn’t a passionate kiss.
It wasn’t like the movies where music swelled and fireworks erupted the moment their lips touched.
It was a “thank you” kiss.
It was light.
Fleeting.
Their lips met and lingered for barely two seconds.
Then she pulled away.
Miles stood frozen, unable to move.
Starlight looked down and let out a soft laugh.
This laugh was different from all her others—it wasn’t polite, it wasn’t guarded, and it wasn’t bitter.
It was the laugh of someone who hadn’t expected herself to actually do that.
“Sorry,” she said.
“Why are you apologizing?”
“Because… I don’t know. Maybe because I’ve never done anything like that before.”
Miles looked at her.
Her ears were flushed red.
It was hard to see in the darkness, but he noticed.
“It’s fine,” he said.
Starlight raised her eyes to meet his.
The two of them stood there in silence.
Beyond the balcony was the New York skyline, a sea of glittering lights.
In the distance, the top floor of Vought Tower was still lit up—Homelander was still up there.
“Do you know what?” Starlight said, her voice so soft it was almost swept away by the wind.
Miles watched her.
“You’re the first person who has made me feel like this world is still worth saving.”
Miles didn’t answer.
He didn’t know how to.
He wasn’t even sure himself if the world could be saved.
He didn’t even know if he would survive until tomorrow.
Homelander knew his name, his background, and exactly how many coins he had in his pocket.
He was like a bug trapped in a glass jar, every twitch of his antennae scrutinized by someone else.
But he knew one thing—he now had a reason not to die.
It wasn’t for Butcher’s mission.
It wasn’t out of Batman’s sense of duty.
It was for her.
Miles looked down at Starlight, who was now resting her head against his shoulder.
Her eyelashes were long, casting tiny shadows under the glow of the streetlights.
Her breathing was steady, as if she had finally found a place where she could let her guard down.
He remembered the first time he had seen her in the cafeteria—holding her tray, looking down at the floor as if terrified of making eye contact with anyone.
He remembered her saying, “Everyone in this building is smiling, but under the table, everyone’s hands are dirty.” He remembered her telling him that her mother had cried the first time she saw her light up.
She, too, was a bird in a cage.
Starlight leaned against his shoulder.
Her hair smelled of shampoo—not some expensive designer perfume, but a cheap, store-bought brand.
Sweet orange.
Miles looked up at the night sky.
No stars were visible through the Manhattan glare.
There were only the lights of a few airplanes gliding slowly across the sky like shooting stars in slow motion.
“Are you cold?” he asked.
“No.”
“You’re shivering.”
Starlight was silent for a moment.
“Okay, maybe a little.”
Miles took off his suit jacket and draped it over her shoulders.
The jacket was slightly too large, slipping down a bit at the shoulders.
Starlight pulled the lapels together, wrapping it tightly around herself.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
They remained standing there.
In the distance, a siren wailed, growing louder before fading away again.
The city was never quiet at night, but on this tiny balcony, it felt as though everything had been put on pause.
“What do you plan to do next?” Starlight asked.
Miles looked toward the distant lights of Vought Tower.
“Keep investigating.”
“Until you find what?”
“Until I find the truth.”
Starlight didn’t speak.
She buried her face into the collar of his jacket and took a deep breath.
“Then I’m coming with you.”
Miles looked down at her.
“There’s no need,” he said.
“You’ve already helped me enough.”
“I’m not helping you.” Starlight looked up into his eyes.
“I’m choosing a side.”
Miles stared into her eyes, which shone brightly in the dark.
“Which side?”
“Yours.”
Miles didn’t say a word.
He reached out and gently took her hand.
Starlight’s fingers twitched, then she squeezed his hand back.
Their hands clasped together in the night breeze; neither was particularly warm, but both held on tight.
In the distance, the lights on the top floor of Vought Tower went dark.
Homelander had turned off the lights.
But Miles didn’t look in that direction again.
He looked down at Starlight.
The corners of her lips curved upward in a slight smile.
It wasn’t a guarded smile, but the smile of someone who had finally found someone she could trust.
Miles smiled, too.
It wasn’t the smile of a schemer whose plan had succeeded.
It wasn’t the smile of someone who had gained a trump card.
It was the smile of someone realizing—*I am not alone.*