As the lingering tension from Stephen's departure faded, Harley turned to Shawn with a curious gleam in her eye.
"Boss… did you really save Kingpin's son?" she asked, surprised.
Shawn nodded without hesitation. "That's right."
He wasn't the type to brag, but he also saw no reason to hide the truth—especially not from Harley.
"But… Kingpin's a villain, right? Why do you keep getting mixed up with people like that?" she asked, narrowing her eyes. "First it was Joker, then Deathstroke, and now Fisk? None of them are exactly saints."
Shawn couldn't help the amused smirk that tugged at his lips. If I hadn't met you sooner, you'd probably be running your own criminal empire by now, he thought.
Of course, he didn't say that out loud.
Instead, he reached out and lightly tapped Harley on the head. "That's adult business. Kids shouldn't worry about it."
Harley pouted and crossed her arms. "Cut it out, I'm not a kid!"
She tilted her head down dramatically, then looked back up at him through her lashes.
"Not small at all, either."
Shawn followed her gaze—and chuckled quietly. Indeed… not small at all.
But before he could say something flirty in return, his attention snapped elsewhere. A sudden wave of magic pulsed through the air.
Origin Magic Power.
It was subtle but distinct, and it came from upstairs.
Wanda.
The energy signature matched the chaotic, raw magic he'd sensed earlier. She was losing control again.
Just as he was about to excuse himself to investigate, Harley spotted someone in the crowd and tugged his arm.
"Boss! That's my friend over there! Can I go say hi real quick?"
Shawn followed her gaze and saw a cheerful-looking girl waving enthusiastically at Harley from across the room.
He nodded. "Go ahead. I need to check something upstairs anyway."
Harley lit up instantly and darted toward her friend.
Without another word, Shawn turned and headed toward the grand staircase.
The second floor of the hotel was much quieter. Unlike the bustling banquet hall below, this level was designed for relaxation and privacy. Private guest lounges and quiet rooms lined the hallway, meant for those who wanted to escape the noise of the party.
But right now, it was practically deserted.
Shawn passed a couple of hotel staff and nodded politely, but his focus remained locked on the magical signature that was steadily growing stronger.
He followed it to a closed door near the end of the corridor.
From behind it, he could hear raised voices.
"Pietro, this isn't right! You know we can't just do things like this!"
"I don't need a lecture, Wanda. I'm not a kid!"
"I'm your sister! I care about you—I'm supposed to teach you what's right and wrong!"
Shawn paused just short of the door. He could feel the tension in the air—emotional and magical.
Wanda was upset.
The magic that had been simmering inside her was starting to bubble dangerously close to the surface.
If this continues, she might lose control again.
It wasn't his business. He knew that.
But he also knew what happened when Wanda's emotions exploded unchecked.
He knocked firmly on the door.
Bang, bang, bang.
There was a brief silence.
Then a wary voice called out, "Who is it?"
"It's me," Shawn said calmly. "The guy who brought you in. Remember?"
Another pause.
Then, the door creaked open.
Wanda stood in the doorway, her expression cautious but not unkind. Beside her, standing stiff and alert, was a silver-haired young man—clearly on guard.
Quicksilver.
Unlike Wanda, Pietro looked like he was ready to bolt—or fight.
"What do you want?" Wanda asked, trying to keep her voice level. Clearly, she wasn't thrilled to have their private conversation interrupted.
"I don't mean to intrude," Shawn said, "but the magical energy in this room could probably be felt from the roof. If you two keep yelling, you're going to attract more attention than you want."
"And so what?" Pietro snapped before Wanda could respond.
Shawn looked at him evenly. "I'm not here to scold you. Just making sure you're not about to light up the hotel."
Pietro narrowed his eyes, his muscles tensing. "You've been eavesdropping?"
"Only as much as the hallway allowed," Shawn replied, calm as ever. "I wasn't exactly trying."
He paused and then added, "You might want to dial it down unless you want security—or worse—coming through that door."
Quicksilver scoffed, clearly unimpressed.
"What's it to you anyway?" he muttered. "You're not the boss of us."
"I'm not," Shawn agreed. "But I do know what happens when a Maximoff meltdown goes unchecked."
That comment made Wanda freeze.
Pietro, meanwhile, clenched his fists. "You don't know anything about us."
Shawn's gaze shifted toward him. "Don't I?"
Then he added with a knowing tone, "You've been stealing, haven't you?"
Pietro's face darkened.
Wanda shot her brother a glare, but he looked away, jaw tight.
"I'm not here to arrest you," Shawn said, voice low. "But you're going to get caught if you keep going like this."
Pietro opened his mouth to retort—then hesitated.
Shawn had hit a nerve.
In truth, Pietro had been using his speed to steal food, clothes, and even electronics. They were struggling, constantly on the move. He didn't see what was wrong with taking what they needed.
But Wanda disagreed. Fiercely.
That was what the argument was about. Pietro thought survival justified the means. Wanda thought it was a slippery slope.
"You think you're better than me?" Pietro snapped. "You want to try and stop me? Go ahead!"
A streak of silver light flashed.
In the blink of an eye, Pietro blurred across the room toward the exit.
But just as he reached the door—he stopped. Abruptly.
It was as if an invisible wall had slammed down in front of him.
His feet froze in place. His limbs locked up.
"What the hell?" he gasped.
He struggled, trying to move, but his entire body felt pinned by a crushing weight.
He turned his head and looked back—only to see Shawn standing there, perfectly still, one hand raised slightly, fingers barely twitching.
"You're fast," Shawn said. "But not faster than me."
That made Pietro's eyes widen.
Wanda stepped between them quickly. "Please, don't hurt him."
Shawn lowered his hand.
Instantly, Pietro stumbled forward, free again.
He backed away from Shawn, eyes narrowed. "What was that?"
"A suggestion," Shawn replied calmly. "Not a threat. Don't make a mess where people are already watching."
Pietro remained silent, though his jaw tightened in frustration.
Wanda turned to Shawn. "Why are you helping us?"
"Because I know what it's like to be alone. To be lost. And I know how dangerous it is to let emotions dictate your magic," he said, meeting her gaze.
"You have power, Wanda. More than you realize. If you let your emotions control it, you'll hurt people. And yourself."
Wanda looked conflicted, her hands tightening into small fists.
But she didn't argue.
Not this time.