is symbolism in the number four. There’s way-out-there stuff like Room E33 and how there’s a phantom chapter in the Bermuda triangle. But lately the boards have been filled with the siege, people wondering what’s going on, where these anti-hero villains are coming from, why Millie seems to be telling us less and less every day—”
“That!” Bridgette interrupts, pointing a finger my way. “Tell me more about that.”
“Oh.” I pause, surprised that’s the detail that caught her attention. “Well, Millie has always been super thorough in her press conferences, going above and beyond to detail what happened and who was involved. But that’s kind of fallen off in the past couple weeks, and sometimes she’s skipped public press altogether, which is understandable, I guess, since there have been so many back-to-back crimes.” I picture Millie scurrying around HQ, always on top of every single movement within the organization. She personally crafts how every battle and victory is perceived in the press, both writing and delivering the media messaging. Teddy always complains about how she never delegates press releases, and how he could easily take those off her plate, but I think she likes being the one to shape the story. Publicizing the heroes and showing off their strengths is what she does best; the only time she squashes a story is when it highlights a mistake, a less-than-heroic fumble. Like that time when the police pulled bodies out of the river without the Warriors being there. She didn’t seem that upset about the actual victims; she was more annoyed at being called out for messing up.
Wait a minute.
A terrible idea strikes, instantly doing a number on my central nervous system. “But maybe she’s not skipping press because of her schedule. Maybe…she’s scared.”
“I mean, how could she not be scared?” Bridgette asks. “Everyone is.”
The thought snowballs, tumbling down a cliff so steep, I don’t want to picture its cavernous end. “No, I mean, maybe she knows the truth about the siege—what’s really happening—
and she’s scared because it’s something bad about Warrior Nation, something that would ruin the organization.”
Bridgette sits up in her plastic seat, turning toward me. “Claire! That makes total sense! If something damning has happened in Chicago, something that would cause all of this, bringing in backup from other chapters would only shine a spotlight on the issue. Which means…the problem is coming from HQ.”
“Like…a mole?”
“Yeah! Think about it!” She slides her sunglasses up on her head, eyes blinking as fast as her thoughts. “In the seventy-something years Warrior Nation has been around, no villain has ever defeated an entire chapter. And then, suddenly, wave after wave of crimes completely wears them out, to the point where they’re so tired, they all fall into a trap? Someone would have to intimately know these heroes—what they’re going through, their stamina, their weaknesses. They’d have to truly understand when and how to strike against them.”
I know I suggested it, but now that it’s outside my head, it’s sounding even worse. “So what you’re saying is…the siege isn’t just some general term for what’s been going on in the city, but a person? A mastermind with an agenda? Like…capital-S Siege?”
“I hate to say it, but yeah. Someone has to be pulling all the strings, coordinating all these attacks.” She stops, before shuddering with a thought. “Like that guy who was at our kidnapping! And on the video at the charity event! Even though a lot of these attacks have been random, he’s been the most consistent presence, wouldn’t you agree? He could be leading this whole thing, and maybe he’s using insider information to do it.”
It’s a lot to take in. “And you think Millie knows who it is?”
“Maybe? But maybe not. She could be doing something behind the scenes, trying to smoke out the culprit before the other chapters swoop in. Trying to save face for Chicago.”
I think of all my coworkers, our innocent conversations and casual interactions not setting off any red flags. Everyone I’ve met this summer loves the Warriors. Maybe not as obsessively as me, but the appreciation is there just the same. “But who? Who could do this?”
She slouches down in her seat, face creased in thought. “A rogue hero? Maybe one of them has faked their kidnapping to cover their tracks?”
“What?!” I yell, causing a few passengers to look my way. “No, no way!” I shake my head so hard that pieces of my braid shake loose, unwilling to accept that possibility. “Absolutely not! Can you