Chase hated funerals.

As a kid, he had accompanied his father to quite a few. They were always the same. Men and women dressed in starched officer uniforms standing in a row behind the casket. They would fire their rifles into the air, the sound echoing for miles.

He could still see the American flags fluttering over the black coffins.

His jaw clenched at the thought. Scowling, he wiped the raindrops off his forehead.

It always seemed to be raining during them, too. Though, that might've just been his mind fusing all the memories into one large, unpleasant souvenir. He didn't remember every single thing about them—not that he wanted to anyway.

But he did remember how lifeless the corpses looked inside of their wooden boxes. They were always dressed up in the nicest clothes. It was usually something the person would never wear if they were alive. In fact, the body inside almost never matched the picture that stood tall next to their casket. They always looked like someone—something—else.

He never truly felt the true weight of loss. Not really at least. None of the deceased were ever directly related to him, and he had never been to a funeral for a family member. Despite that, he recalled the dull, hollow feeling that always settled in his chest.

But this particular funeral was different. This time he felt the loss. It was agonizing and painful. It cut deep like a jagged knife, tearing through flesh and digging into his bones. The pain ached and stung and gnawed away at his core.

Holly had been dead for five days. Five days had passed since she died. Five days.

It still didn't feel real to him. He wasn't sure if it ever would.

A lot had happened during the past week.

After the disaster that was Alastair Crane's campaign rally, a search party went looking for the senator. Somehow, his security team found and rescued him from the Primes who had abducted him. Chase still couldn't wrap his head around how they managed it. He had been abducted by a team of six Primes; six powerful Primes. How could a group of normal humans rescue someone from their clutches?

He wasn't sure—but Emily had her theories, which she didn't hesitate to share with the rest of the team.

The media didn't seem to have the same questions they did. Instead, they heralded Crane's rescuers as heroes, and they painted the senator as a saint—despite his incitement of violence at his own rally.

To make things worse, Senator Crane used the situation to cast stones at Atlas and the Prime Task Force. He pegged them both as incompetent and inefficient. A failure.

And everyone was buying it.

Crane's stock had skyrocketed since his abduction. More United Nations officials had expressed their allegiance to the PRA. There were only a few left who opposed the act. He wanted to believe that Crane wouldn't succeed, but the odds looked to be swinging in his favor.

The fight was almost over.

But Chase didn't care about that at the moment. All he cared about was Holly Primrose Green-Taylor. Dryad. Flower Girl.

When he had received the distress signal from Lucky during the fight, he didn't know what to expect. Oscar's team had gone after the fleeting van Senator Crane had been taken in. They had chased the Primes into an electrical power plant. That's when everything hit the fan.

Holly had been killed in an explosion caused by Circuit. The same explosion also left Archie paralyzed from the waist down. And, to top it all off, they had no leads on where the rogue Primes had escaped to. They had vanished like ghosts.

To say things were hopeless would have been the understatement of the century.

"Chase, come on," Stella said from behind him. "It's time."

Everyone had left the cathedral where Holly's service had been held a few minutes ago. Her body was currently being driven to the cemetery where she would be put to rest. For good.

He stuck his hands into his pocket, his jaw taut and his gaze studying the smooth bricks beneath his dress shoes.

"Chase..." Stella grabbed his hand and squeezed it softly. He faced her, sorrow oozing from his entire demeanor. "It's time to go."

He nodded and let her lead him out of the high-ceilinged building. As they approached the exit, he glanced up at the stained-glass windows above. Images of angels and saints stared back at him, their beautiful colors dancing with the faint light shining through the stormy clouds outside.

While he wasn't a devout Christian, he did believe in some kind of higher power. At least he thought he did. Nowadays, he wasn't so sure. So much had happened since he got his powers—and not all of it was good.

He wasn't sure if God existed, but he was sure about one thing:

Holly didn't deserve to die.

She had been a kind soul at heart, despite her brash personality. She had been strong, brave, and compassionate. And she loved plants. He had never seen someone care so much about tomatoes and beetroots. Back at The Acropolis, she had grown an entire garden out of her dorm room.

She even made healthy smoothies for the team after their training sessions. And she was always trying to teach them Scottish slang words.

Holly didn't deserve to die.

If God was real, why did he let it happen?

He repeated the question in his head for what felt like hours. Eventually, he made it down the stone steps of the cathedral and to the black SUV parked on the curb. Andre, Theo, Oscar, and Emily stood outside the vehicle. Their outfits were as black as night. The dark colors fit in perfectly with the dreary weather around them.

No one looked happy. Not that they should've been.

"Finally," Emily said with a scoff. "We've been waiting for you for like...ten minutes."

Stella glared at her. "Lay off, Emily. Now is not the time."

"Whatever."

Chase ignored her. In fact, he barely heard what she had said. He was too busy being swallowed whole by dread. His eyes widened. He was going to have to face Holly's parents. Director Shaw had been doing most of the contact, but now it was his turn. It was his responsibility as leader of the team.

What was he going to say to them? What were they going to say to him? How would they react to him letting their daughter die on his watch?

His palms began to sweat.

"You okay?" Stella asked him, obviously concerned. "You don't have to do it, you know." His friends peered at him with worry in their eyes.

"I have to," he replied, his voice low. Clearing his throat, he opened the SUV's rear door and climbed inside. "Let's get going." Stella joined him in the backseat and the others quickly piled in after them. Once they all were buckled in, they began their drive to the graveyard.

#

The sky was crying, along with a few other people in the small crowd surrounding Holly's casket.

It was a beautiful box, constructed from glossy birch wood. Decorative vines and roses had been carved into the coffin. An elderly priest stood next to it, a bible in his hands and a thin line stretched across his lips. His white robes stood out among the dreary black clothes of those around him.

Holly's parents stood closest to the man. Her mother was crying into her father's shoulder. His eyes were redder than the tomatoes his daughter used to grow in her room. Chase could tell he was trying to stay strong for his wife.

The boy felt his own throat constrict. He averted his gaze to the crowd. Muffled cries filled the cold air. The clouds above continued sending torrents of rain down. The water came down in relentless sheets, the sound drowning out the prayers the priest had started to recite.

Chase's hand tightened around the umbrella he held. His jaw flexed, the muscles tensing beneath his skin. He couldn't get Holly's face, her smile, and heavily accented voice out of his head. Tears welled in his eyes.

Stella squeezed his hand and gave him a small, comforting smile. Even through the rain, she shined like a star. He was grateful for her presence. He wasn't sure if he would've been able to make it through the funeral without her.

Once the priest finished praying over Holly's casket, he invited people from the crowd to say a few words. Her parents went first. They barely made it through their speeches before breaking down in tears. Watching them felt like someone was tearing Chase's heart out and stomping on it in front of him.

A few of Holly's relatives spoke next. They told stories of how she used to terrorize the boys in their neighborhood as a child and how she chased after squirrels. They told of her brilliance when it came to botany. Chase learned that if she hadn't joined Atlas, she would've become a florist.

That only made the pain in his heart worse.

Atlas' mission was to protect people. But lately, they hadn't been doing a good job. Something Senator Crane said to him before the rally stuck out to him.

Why were children the ones laying their lives on the line? One of the conditions in Crane's PRA was that only those aged eighteen and older would be able to participate in any task force initiative.

Maybe that was a good thing. Maybe if Atlas had that rule, they wouldn't all be standing in the rain for some poor girl's funeral.

"Would anyone else like to speak before we lay Holly to rest?"

The only answer the priest received was the loud whistle of the wind. The chilling noise sent a shiver down Chase's spine. As he stared at her casket, he thought of the mission they went on in Ireland just a week ago.

She had volunteered when no one else would. She had even saved him from the monster that nearly pulverized him. She deserved a lot more than what she got.

He handed Stella his umbrella. She gave him a reassuring nod. He smiled back at her. Taking a deep breath, he stepped out from underneath it and joined the priest next to the casket.

Everyone looked at him with an air of uncertainty. What was he going to say? Hell, even he didn't know. But he had to say something.

Rain droplets crashed atop his shaved head. They spread down his face, obscuring his vision. He wiped his eyes, ignoring the coldness setting into his skin. He took a glance at everyone in the crowd as they waited for him to speak.

He then awkwardly cleared his throat.

"Er, hello, everyone," he began, his voice uncharacteristically timid and low. "I'm Chase...Chase Masterson. Some of you may know me as Sentinel. I was...I was a friend of Holly's. She was a member of my team. One of the best members of my team, actually. I won't pretend to have been her best friend or anything. Frankly, I didn't know her for that long.

"But I didn't have to know her long enough to tell what kind of person she was. She was full of courage and spunk and personality. She never shied away from a challenge and she always did her best to help everyone."

Everyone nodded as they most likely drew upon their own personal experiences with the girl. Chase started to speak again, but the words died in his throat. He felt the tears in his eyes mix with the rain sliding down his face.

He couldn't continue. He didn't even know why he got up there in the first place.

Soon, he couldn't breathe. A rush of uncomfortable warmth spread across his body. His chest started to heave. His breaths grew choppy. Sweat beaded against his temple.

I can't do this. I can't...

But then his searching, frantic gaze found Stella in the crowd. Her hazel irises were full of warmth and encouragement. She hadn't said anything, but she didn't need to. Her being there was all he needed.

He turned to Holly's parents, who were staring at him expectantly. "I'm so, so sorry for what happened to your daughter. I'm...I'm sorry I couldn't save her. I know nothing I say will bring her back. But I want you to know your daughter did not die in vain. She died protecting people from those who wish to hurt us. From those who wished to hurt others. She died a hero. I just...I want you to know that. She was...is...a hero."

Through their own tears, they nodded at him.

He faced Holly's casket. "I'm sorry, Holly. You deserved better." He mumbled a quick 'thank you' to the crowd and returned to Stella.

The priest said a few more prayers. A few of the funeral groundskeepers who had been standing off to the side began lowering the girl's casket into the six-foot deep hole in the ground. As Chase watched her coffin fade from his view, he wiped his eyes.

I'm sorry, Holly. I'm sorry.

#

Chase stayed near Holly's gravestone well after her funeral was over. The rain had stopped a while ago, but he still felt the water against his skin. He watched the left-over drops sparkling against the blades of grass below.

Her headstone was impressive. The stone was spotless. The engravings were immaculate. He found himself reading the inscriptions over and over again until they were ingrained in his head.

She was gone.

It had just started to sink in.

He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his suit jacket and kicked a rock lingering near his dress shoes. It sailed across the graveyard like a bullet, disappearing into the forest a few yards away.

It wasn't fair what happened to her. He wished he could back and do something. Anything. But he couldn't. No one could.

Behind him, he heard multiple sets of footsteps approaching. He didn't even bother turning around to see who it was. He already knew.

Stella appeared to his right. She rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. Theo stood to his left, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. After a while, the boy patted Chase on the shoulder. Andre, Emily, and Oscar arrived shortly after.

The six of them stood in front of Holly's headstone. Not a single word was spoken between them. The silence wasn't unbearable, though. In fact, it was comforting. Peaceful, almost. Accepting. Through the trees bordering the graveyard, he heard birds singing their songs for Holly. Rays of sunlight were beginning to break through the heavy clouds above.

The smell of wet grass wafted into Chase's nose. He felt his body relax into Stella's touch as she wrapped her arm around him.

"She's in a better place now," Emily said. He hadn't expected her to be one to break the silence. She huffed. "Any place is better than here."

"I dunno, Em," Theo said. "I thought Scotland was pretty cool."

"Not Scotland, you idiot," she replied. "I meant this world. This planet There's no place for us here. I wish there was someplace where we could go so we wouldn't have to deal with all of this crap." She sighed and glared at the ground. "As sad as it is, Holly's free from that now."

Andre rubbed his prosthetic hand. The metal glistened with light form the emerging sun. "I miss her."

"Me too, Big Guy." Chase wiped his eyes. "Me too."

Oscar was the only one who hadn't spoken yet. He had been standing away from the group, closer to Holly's gravestone. His hands were deep in the pockets of his parents. He dug his shoe into the grass beneath it.

"Oscar?" Chase raised an eyebrow at him.

He dragged the sleeve of his jacket across his nose before turning around. His eyes were bloodshot. He seemed like he had been crying nonstop for hours.

"I'm sorry, guys." He ran a shaking hand through his curls. "I...It's my fault. She was in my squad. She was my responsibility." He slammed his hand onto his thigh while releasing an agitated breath. "I shouldn't have let this happen. I should've saved her. I'm...I'm so sorry." He hung his head, his black curls falling into his face. "I'm sorry guys."

Chase exhaled deeply. He walked over to the boy and clapped a hand onto his shoulder. "It's not your fault, Oz. It's none of our faults." He looked around at everyone present. "Those rogue Primes are to blame for this. And we'll get them back." Nodding, he cast his gaze to Holly's headstone. "I promise."

Theo's phone chimed, interrupting their moment.

"It's time to head back," he told them.

Chase nodded. He kissed his palm and patted the girl's headstone. He studied the engravings one last time.

Holly Primrose Green-Taylor. Daughter. Hero. Will live in our memory forever.

She was gone, but she would never be forgotten. He would make sure of that.

"Goodbye, Flower Girl."