(Logan POV)
We drive in tense silence, the hum of the van and the occasional shuffle of weapons the only sounds in the air. Beside me, Maggie checks her knuckles, flexing her fingers. Hughie sits in the back, wedged between Annie and MM, fingers drumming nervously. Frenchie and Kimiko trail behind us in Butcher's battered car, headlights flickering in the rearview.
The plan is simple in theory: get Ryan. Get him away from Homelander. Then run like hell. Simple, but not easy, nothing ever is when Homelander's involved.
I glance over at Maggie. She catches my look, exhales, and reaches over to squeeze my wrist. "You know he won't let Ryan go without a fight," she says softly, too quiet for Hughie to overhear.
"I know," I mutter back. "Doesn't change what we have to do."
She nods, lips pressed in a thin line. Annie leans forward between the seats. "Where exactly are we meeting Butcher's contact?"
"Safe house on the outskirts. Abandoned church. Butcher said it's secure."
Up ahead, MM flashes the brights from Butcher's car. It's the signal. I steer the van off the main road onto a dirt path, the tires crunching over gravel as the trees close in around us. We pull up to the ruin of a white clapboard church, its steeple half-collapsed, the cross hanging crooked like it's tired of praying for salvation.
We pile out. The night air bites at my face. I lift my head, scanning the tree line. The forest is thick, but that means little, Homelander could be above us right now.
Butcher waits by the crooked steps, Becca beside him. He jerks his head. Around the corner, Butcher lights a smoke. "We good?"
"As good as it's gonna get," I say. "When he shows, I'll stall him."
"Try not to die," Butcher mutters, flicking ash to the ground.
Back with the crew, the plan's clear. Butcher, Becca, and I inside. MM and Frenchie outside. Maggie with me.
We move out. The wind cuts through my jacket as we cross the field. I catch the scent of wet earth, hear the distant bark of a dog miles off. I remind myself this is just another battlefield. France, Korea, doesn't matter. Same ghosts, same steel in my hands.
We reach the fence line. Maggie taps my shoulder, nods. One guard paces near the back door. His breath hangs in the cold air, unaware. I slip behind him, claws flash once, warm spray, then silence. Maggie eases him to the ground. We exchange a look. No words needed.
Inside, the farmhouse groans under its own weight. The smell of old wood and stale coffee clings to the walls. Becca's breathing quickens beside me. She's strong, stronger than most I've known, but this is her boy.
We step over squeaking floorboards, up the narrow stairs. Every creak feels like a gunshot. I hear Ryan's heartbeat, fast, rabbit-quick. Becca whispers, "Ryan." The door opens a crack, two eyes gleam in the dark.
"Mom?"
She sweeps him up, buries him in her arms. For a heartbeat, there's hope. Then I feel it, the shift in the air, a static charge crawling up my spine. Homelander.
"He's here," I snarl. Butcher stiffens behind me. "Take them. Now."
Maggie cracks her neck, eyes on me. "We finish this."
Outside, MM's voice crackles over comms. "Movement in the treeline. Frenchie's got eyes. Kimiko's on the side door."
Then he's here, the monster they call a hero.
Homelander floats through the hallway like he owns the air itself. "James," he says, his grin slow and cold. "How many times do I have to bury you?"
"Try one more," I growl. "John."
His eyes flick to Maggie. "Ah, Maeve. Still playing rebel? They'll never forgive you."
She steps forward, fists clenching. "I didn't ask for forgiveness."
His smile splits wider. "Cute."
He's fast, he always is. He lunges. I meet him halfway, claws tearing across his chest. Flesh opens, seals shut. He grabs my wrist, squeezing, sparks fly as his grip tests metal that won't yield. My bones don't break. His eyes flash frustration.
Maggie's fists slam into his ribs. The house shudders. She drives him back through a wall. Drywall explodes. He laughs, swings at her, she ducks, uppercuts him so hard he crashes through the ceiling. Splinters rain down.
I leap after him, claws first. He drops down behind me, heat vision slicing the air. I twist, feel it burn a line across my shoulder. He barrels into me, we slam through a doorway, crash onto the kitchen table. It shatters under our weight.
"You're old, Logan," he sneers, pinning me. "Rusty."
"Still here," I spit, driving my claws into his side. He howls. Maggie hits him like a wrecking ball, dragging him off me. She pummels him through the pantry door. Cans explode off shelves.
Outside, I hear gunfire. Frenchie's voice: "More guards! Kimiko's on them!"
Becca's scream pierces the fight, Butcher yells back, "We have him!"
Homelander twists, grabs Maggie by the throat, lifts her. She grins through gritted teeth, slams her forehead into his nose. Cartilage pops. He drops her with a snarl.
I'm up again, claws slashing. Sparks fly as they scrape his shoulder blade. We roll through broken cabinets, broken chairs, broken everything. The farmhouse trembles with every hit.
He tries the heat vision again, Maggie shoulder-checks him, blasting him through the front wall. Cold night floods in. I follow, boots crunching on broken glass. He floats, bleeding from his lip, chest heaving.
"Stay down," he growls.
"Never," I snarl. Maggie stands at my side, hair matted, eyes blazing.
"Logan!" MM calls from the yard. "Becca's clear! We're good!"
Homelander flicks his gaze to the treeline, rage flickers across his perfect face. "You think you can run from me?"
I lunge. Claws find his side. He grabs my shirt, lifts me, but Maggie's there, tackling him midair. They slam into the frozen ground. I land beside them, drive my claws in again. He howls, shoves us both back with a shockwave of force.
We skid through the yard, mud and snow mixing with blood. I push up on shaky arms. Maggie stands first, one eye swelling shut, but she grins.
"Round two?" I rasp.
She spits blood. "Always."
Homelander rises, breathing hard, blood on his teeth. For the first time, I see it, fear. Just a glint, but it's there.
"I'll kill you both," he hisses.
"Better try," I say. My claws gleam under the moon.
Behind him, the distant rumble of our van fades into the trees, Becca and Ryan are free for now.
Maggie steps closer to me. "Whatever happens — "
"I know," I say. "Let's end this."
And we charge.