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Wanda's Reckoning

Wanda's magic doesn't break the dampening field—it bypasses it, threading through the metal chair, the floor beneath her, the air between them. She feels Selina's whip hand twitch, Harley's breath catch, Felicia's claws retract a fraction. The chair rises an inch off the ground, and Wanda spreads her thighs wider, a dare in the slick gleam of her skin. She's not free—but she's never been more dangerous, and they can feel it in the way the room hums with her pulse.