The more he watched her, the less able she was to meet his gaze; Terra's face was turned down, away, and the straight and unyielding sense of certainty she'd carried in was falling away.

"No..." He hadn't. Times Square aside, where everyone had seemed just as confused as Terra felt, they'd only helped people. But even if he hadn't made her do anything bad, it didn't mean he wouldn't use her, or have some reason to trick her. For as many months as she'd worked under him, he still didn't know the full extent of her power—she'd done her best to protect the secret of her heritage and her other face from him, and the rest of the team. But wasn't it possible he suspected? That he was just waiting for her to slip up and reveal the full fury of her power?

Who was right? Who was wrong? How could she know for certain? If there was one thing Terra did know, it was that she couldn't trust her own judgment. In profile, the tight knit of her eyebrows was mostly hidden behind her hair, but there was a tense pull to her cheek and the worrying of her lower lip. She didn't even know what to say.