Chapter 17
Gwen knew someone had been following her for weeks.
At first it was just a feeling—eyes that lingered too long, footsteps that matched hers in empty streets. Then she started catching shadows in her periphery. A silhouette that vanished too fast. A reflection in a window.
And tonight? She was done waiting.
She perched on the same rooftop where she and Miles used to talk, drumsticks tucked into her jacket pocket, Spider-Woman suit pulled under her hoodie. The night wind tugged at her blonde hair as she stared at the skyline, waiting.
And then—behind her—a quiet voice.
“You knew I’d come.”
She turned slowly.
Miles stood at the edge of the rooftop, hands in his pockets, face unreadable. No mask. No hood. Just him.
“Yeah,” she said. “I knew.”
The silence between them cracked with tension.
“Why’d you run?” Miles asked, voice tight. “Why’d you start pulling away?”
Gwen hesitated. “I saw something I didn’t want to believe. A scar. On you. And then again on the Prowler. Same place. Same shape.”
Miles looked away.
“I tried to tell myself it was just a coincidence. That it couldn’t be you. Because you’re you, Miles. And then I started thinking… what if I was wrong?”
“You weren’t,” he said quietly.
Gwen’s breath caught.
Miles took a step forward, the streetlight behind him casting long shadows.
“I didn’t want you to find out like this. I didn’t want you to think I was some kind of monster.”
“Then why didn’t you tell me?” she whispered.
“Because I didn’t want to lose you,” he said, raw. “And I couldn’t stop. Not after everything. The city’s a mess, Gwen. You know that. And I thought if I could just do something, even if it wasn’t clean or right, then maybe it was worth it.”
Gwen walked toward him, slow and careful. “You hurt people, Miles. I know why. But you still hurt them.”
“I know,” he whispered. “I never wanted to scare you. But when I saw you getting close to someone else, I… I lost it. I thought you were leaving me.”
Tears welled in Gwen’s eyes. “You followed me. You watched me. You stalked me.”
“I know,” he said again, broken.
There was silence again—sharp, cutting.
Then, Gwen reached up. Pressed her hand to his chest.
“I should hate you,” she said. “But I don’t.”
Miles blinked. “Why not?”
“Because I loved you. And maybe a part of me still does. But you have to change. Or this ends here.”
He didn’t say anything—just nodded, swallowing hard.
“I’ll help you,” she said softly. “If you let me.”
For the first time in weeks, Miles looked like he could breathe again.