The word didn't get taken back.
That mattered.
They didn't say it again right away—no one wanted to test their luck—but it sat there between them, solid and real.
Big Sis.
Aria ate her chips like nothing had happened.
Crumbs fell onto the mat. She didn't brush them off.
Someone—no one ever figured out who—cleared their throat. "So… uh. Big Sis."
Every head snapped toward the speaker.
Aria glanced up. Neutral. Waiting.
He froze, sweat already forming. "I mean—if that's okay—"
She raised a hand.
The room went silent.
"If you're going to say it," she said, "say it normally."
He blinked. "…Normally?"
"Yeah. Like you're not about to be executed."
A beat.
"…Big Sis."
This time it landed differently.
Natural. Easy.
Aria didn't flinch. Didn't correct him. Didn't warn him.
She just kept chewing.
That was all the permission they needed.
"Big Sis," someone else said, softer.
"Big Sis," another followed, testing the sound.
By the third, it wasn't a title anymore. It was a habit returning to its rightful place.
No rank.
No hierarchy.
Just recognition.
Noah watched from the edge of the room, chest tight in a way that surprised him. He hadn't realized how badly he'd wanted this—not authority, not command—but belonging without conditions.
Aria wiped her fingers on her jacket and finally spoke again.
"I'm not taking responsibility for your bad decisions," she said.
Several people nodded immediately.
"I'm not leading missions."
More nodding.
"I'm not cleaning up messes you could've avoided by using your brain."
Someone winced.
"But," she added, eyes sharp, "if anyone hurts you without a damn good reason—"
The temperature dropped.
"—they answer to me."
No one doubted that.
Scar-Jaw exhaled slowly. "Guess that makes you what you always were."
Aria tilted her head. "Which is?"
He smiled, small but sincere. "The one everyone stands behind."
She snorted. "Sounds exhausting."
Yet she didn't deny it.
She leaned back against the wall, chips balanced on her knee, surrounded by people who had once followed her into hell and now chose—freely—to stay.
For the first time, there was no past pulling at her ankles.
Only a present that fit.
And if someone wanted to call her Big Sis while they were at it?
She didn't object.