Chapter 13
Gwen never meant to end up in the middle of a crisis. In fact, the only thing on her mind that morning was coffee and getting to campus early enough to steal a sunny bench. Her backpack was heavy with textbooks, her hair was still slightly damp from her rushed shower, and her earbuds were in—blasting a playlist that only half distracted her from thinking about a boy. Or two.
The city was already buzzing when she stepped off the bus, people streaming past like waves. She was halfway through a sip of her latte when the first scream rang out.
She froze.
More screams. A crash. Something thundered against concrete.
And then she saw it.
A delivery truck flipped onto its side like it weighed nothing. Smoke billowed from a nearby alley, and something—someone—was walking through it. A tall figure. Not human. Not exactly.
People scattered. Gwen dropped her drink.
The figure had armor. Glowing red tech along its arms. A face that looked like it belonged in a horror sim, all sharp angles and shifting metal. It wasn’t just some mugger with an attitude—it was a villain. An actual supervillain.
And Gwen was in its path.
She ducked behind a kiosk as the armored figure sent another shockwave through the ground, flipping over a streetlamp like it was a twig. Cars honked. People screamed. Gwen’s heart pounded in her ears.
Where was Spider-Man?
She tried to breathe. She knew she should run, but her legs wouldn’t move. The villain said something, but her mind was too panicked to translate it. Whatever was going on, it wasn’t a robbery. It was bigger. Deliberate.
And she was right in the middle of it.
A little girl nearby cried out as her mom tried to drag her to safety, but the shockwave had knocked them down. Gwen didn’t even think. She dashed out, grabbed the girl’s arm, pulled her up—
A sharp snap of sound tore through the sky like a whip.
Webbing.
He was here.
Spider-Man dropped from the rooftops like a meteor, slamming into the villain with enough force to crack the pavement. Gwen gasped, shielding the child with her arms as debris flew.
And for just a second, Spider-Man’s head turned. Toward her.
Their eyes met—if only briefly—and she swore she saw something like panic flash behind his mask.
Then he turned back to fight.
Gwen pulled the girl and her mom behind a building, her heart still pounding.
She didn’t know why her hands were shaking so badly.
She didn’t know why Spider-Man looked… scared.
Miles had been trailing the armored threat since early morning.
This wasn’t some low-level crook with too many gadgets and a bad attitude—this guy was something else. High-level tech. Military-grade maybe. And dangerous enough to toss a truck into the air like it was made of paper.
The worst part? He wasn’t after cash or chaos. He was looking for something. Or someone.
Miles didn’t have time to figure it out. Not when the guy leveled a city block in thirty seconds flat.
He’d barely managed to web-swing into position when the first shockwave hit. Alarms. Screams. Explosions. He zipped between buildings, heart pounding. He had to stop this. Fast.
Then he saw her.
Just a flash of blonde hair. Striped hoodie. Wide eyes frozen in panic.
Gwen.
Gwen was here.
Miles almost missed his landing. He crashed into the villain like a wrecking ball, forcing the guy back with a powerful kick. Concrete shattered under their feet.
But his mind wasn’t on the fight anymore.
What is she doing here?! Why isn’t she running?!
He risked a glance—just a quick one.
She was helping a little kid, shielding her like she was made of steel herself. Fear in her eyes. Dirt on her cheeks. And somehow still standing.
Miles felt his gut twist.
Another explosion.
He turned back just in time to catch a glowing red punch to the side. He skidded across the asphalt, groaning. His ribs ached. The villain came for him again, but Miles shot two quick webs, slinging himself back into the fray.
He needed to end this fast.
He needed to get her out.
But she was already gone. When he looked again, she’d disappeared behind a building—safe, maybe. He didn’t know. And that not knowing was crawling under his skin.
Punch. Duck. Web. Slam.
He was losing focus.
His head kept spinning back to her—her wide eyes, her trembling hands, the way she looked at him like she knew something wasn’t right.
And he couldn’t let her get hurt. Not her.
Not Gwen.
Everything was ringing.
Not a sharp, painful kind of ring, but the weird, distant, echoey kind that made the world feel underwater. Gwen coughed, brushing ash and bits of debris off her sweater, blinking through the haze.
She was alive.
Somehow.
She didn’t remember the exact moment it happened. One second she was crouched behind a half-collapsed bench, trying to keep the little girl from crying, the next—
Spider-Man. He dropped from the sky like a meteor.
He had looked at her.
Not just in passing. Not just in that heroic, generic way he always scanned crowds. No, he had stopped mid-fight, eyes locked with hers. It had been just a flash, but in that split second, Gwen had felt something entirely irrational and terrifying:
He recognized her.
Her knees buckled slightly as she sat down on the curb, adrenaline crashing all at once. The girl’s mother had already whisked her away, leaving Gwen alone in the debris-strewn silence. People were gathering again—cameras, cops, some news drones.
But no Spider-Man.
He was gone.
She pressed her palms together, knuckles white. Her ears still rang. Her heart still hadn’t slowed down.
He had thrown himself into the fight like he didn’t care what happened to him.
And when he looked at her, it wasn’t the cool, confident stare of a superhero.
It was worry.
Real worry.
For her.
Gwen wiped a speck of blood from her cheek, barely a scrape, but somehow it made everything feel more real. Her fingers trembled as she dug her phone from her backpack and opened her blog draft.
No words.
Not yet.
Just the echo of that moment.
He looked at me.
The phone buzzed in her palm as she trudged up the apartment steps, backpack swinging heavy on her shoulders. She didn’t need to look at the screen. She knew.
Mom & Dad.
She hesitated.
Everything felt sore. Her clothes still smelled like smoke. Her brain was stuck in that moment—his eyes, the dust, the way the street cracked like paper beneath his landing. But she couldn’t ignore it forever. With a shaky thumb, she hit accept.
“Hi.”
“Gwendolyne!” her mother’s voice cut through immediately, sharp with panic. “Are you okay? We saw the news—your school sent out a mass text. They said some students were caught in the—”
“I’m fine,” Gwen interrupted quickly, walking into her apartment. Amaya wasn’t home yet, thank god. “I was just… nearby. Not hurt.”
There was silence on the other end for a beat too long.
Her dad’s voice joined in, calmer but no less serious. “Gwen, we’ve talked about this. About staying aware. You have to be more careful.”
“I was careful,” she said, voice thin. “I wasn’t trying to get involved or anything. It just… happened.”
“I hope you didn’t go running toward the commotion like last time,” her mom snapped.
“I didn’t,” she lied. “Promise.”
More silence.
Her mom sighed, softer this time. “We just worry, sweetheart. That neighborhood isn’t always safe. We want to keep you safe. Maybe it’s time to start thinking about ballet again. Your teacher said she’s happy to—”
“Mom.”
Her voice cracked just a little.
“I don’t want ballet right now.”
Her mom didn’t argue. Not today.
“We’re just glad you’re okay,” her dad said, filling the silence. “Do you want us to come by? Or maybe you can come home for the weekend?”
“I’m okay,” she whispered. “I think I just… need to rest.”
“Alright. We love you.”
“Love you too.”
The line clicked off.
Gwen let the phone fall to the couch, curled up beside it, and closed her eyes.
She didn’t feel safe.
But she’d seen him.
And for the first time since the ground cracked open under her feet, she finally breathed.