Chapter 20 #2
“He’s confident,” I murmured, stabbing a piece of broccoli. “Letting me walk around like this. Letting all of you see him without his mask.”
Twelve took a sip of his water. “He values efficiency over theatrics.”
“I suppose the fear of death is enough to keep everyone’s mouths shut,” I said, glancing at a group of men laughing near the soda machine. “One slip up, and Cipher turns you into a stain on the floor. That’s a powerful NDA.”
Twelve paused, his fork hovering halfway to his mouth. “Well, yes. There’s the fear of death. That’s always on the table. But that’s a last resort.”
“Is it?”
“Ms. Bishop,” Twelve said, leaning in slightly. “Do you have any idea how difficult it is to find a henching position that offers full medical, dental, and a matching 401k?”
I choked on my lasagna. “Excuse me?”
“The retirement package is phenomenal,” Twelve continued, his tone serious. “And the hazard pay is three times the industry standard. Most Villains pay in cash and threats. Cipher pays in equity and security. Anyone willing to mess that up by leaking secrets is a fool.”
I stared at him, my fork clattering onto my tray. “You’re loyal because of the benefits package?”
“Competence costs money,” Twelve said with a shrug. “Cipher knows that. We aren’t just loyal because we’re scared. We’re loyal because we’re the best, and he treats us like it.”
I tried to reconcile the monster who had killed Velocity for insulting me with the employer who apparently offered a 401k match. It didn’t fit. It made him seem rational. Pragmatic. And that was infinitely more terrifying than him just being a psychopath.
Twelve suddenly went still and cocked his head to the side, his eyes unfocusing. He sighed after a moment, wiping his mouth with a napkin and standing up. The casual, informative tour guide was gone, replaced instantly by the subordinate.
“Tour’s over,” Twelve said, gesturing toward the door. “The Boss says it’s time to go back.”
Twelve offered a small, tight smile that didn’t reach his eyes when we got to the command center, then the doors hissed open.
The room had changed since I’d last been in there. The main display was now a wall of violence. Cipher was watching fight footage and on the screen, a Hero named Sentinel was being thrown through a bus.
I looked at the chair he’d pointed to earlier.
The “timeout” chair. It was about as comfortable as a slab of granite.
Though looking back, maybe that was a deliberate choice to make me more likely to leave and run around for his amusement.
I sighed and started toward it. If I sat down and shut up, maybe he’d ignore me long enough for me to figure out a way to stab him with a pen.
“No.” Cipher didn’t look away from the screen. He tapped a command on the console, rewinding the footage of the bus impact.
I scowled at his profile. “Make up your mind. First, I’m supposed to sit and stay. Then you let me wander around your evil lair. Now I can’t sit?”
He finally turned his head. “I let you wander because it was entertaining to watch you try to outsmart a building that thinks faster than you do.”
My face burned. “Glad I could be your court jester.”
I turned back to the chair, determined to sit in it just to spite him.
I didn’t hear him move. The floor just dropped out from under me and I was hauled backward, landing hard on his lap.
“This is where you sit for now,” he murmured against my ear.
I scowled harder, knowing that fighting and arguing would do nothing. Sitting stiffly in silence was probably the best way to annoy him anyway.
He turned his attention back to the screen. On it, Sentinel was getting back up, blood streaming from his nose.
After a few minutes, Cipher made a thoughtful noise. “You’re angry,” he noted, his tone mild.
“Good job reading the fucking room,” I snapped, my voice shaking. “You kidnapped me and humiliated me.”
“Are you really that pissed I didn’t let you come?”
“That’s not why I’m pissed,” I hissed, twisting in his grip so I could glare at him. “Why did you finger me while on a call with Baron Ash? Was it just a power trip? Because listening to him threaten you wasn’t exactly a turn-on.”
Cipher paused the footage.
“Ash wasn’t just threatening me, Annie,” he said, his voice devoid of its usual mockery. “He was following League rules.”
“What?” I blinked.
“Ash wants the League’s approval of his petition.” Cipher shifted and placed his hand on my hip. His thumb began rubbing a slow circle. “He’s petitioned them for the right to kill me during our match next week and he called to give me the required notice.”
I just stared at him, not sure I’d heard him correctly. “He petitioned to kill you?”
“It’s a clause in the bylaws,” Cipher said, sounding bored. “Usually, killing a fellow member during a televised match is strictly prohibited. Bad for branding. Messy paperwork. But a member can always petition for a lethal match.”
“They won’t grant it though, right?” My stomach turned over. I didn’t particularly like Cipher at the moment and I dearly wanted him to suffer. But the thought of Baron Ash killing him? It made my blood run cold. “The League protects its assets and you’re its top performer.”
Cipher let out a dark, humorless huff. “They protect their ratings, Bishop. If the Syndicate thinks a death match will pull in the highest viewership of the decade? If they think the spectacle is worth the loss of an asset? They might just let him try.” He looked back at the frozen image of violence on the screen. “Are you worried about me, Bishop?”
“No,” I said, the word leaving my mouth a little too quickly. I stared at the screen where Sentinel was still bleeding, refusing to look at the man holding me.
Cipher hummed, a low sound of amusement. “Liar.”
I stiffened, but he didn’t press the point. Instead, he reached out with his free hand and tapped a sequence on the console. The footage of the fight vanished, replaced by a complex, rotating schematic of an arena.
“If the petition is granted, then the rules of engagement shift. Reciprocity is a fundamental tenet of the League’s combat bylaws. If he is permitted to kill me, then I am permitted to kill him.”
I looked at him then. The harsh lighting of the screens cast shadows across his face, highlighting the sharp angle of his jaw and the cruel curve of his mouth. He looked utterly unbothered.
“Will you? Kill him?”
“It depends.”
“On what?”
“On how bored I am.”
A chill skittered down my spine. He was talking about murder as a cure for ennui. Before I could think of a response to his psychopathic apathy, Cipher dismissed the holographic arena with a flick of his wrist.
He tilted his head, his silver eyes catching the faint glow of the console. “Tech Support? Really?”
My cheeks flooded with heat. I had forgotten he had strip-mined my digital life when he hacked my devices and now he had my phone and could do the same.
“You went through my phone,” I accused.
“I go through everything. It’s a character flaw. But Tech Support? I expected something with a bit more venom.”
“I work in the Tower,” I snapped. “I can’t exactly have Villain or Cipher sitting in my recent calls. But if it offends your massive ego, I can always change it to my first choice.”
Cipher arched a dark brow. “Which was?”
“Asshole.”
He chuckled. “Accurate. But lacking creativity.”
“Fine. Since you’re the pinnacle of creative genius, what am I saved as in your phone?”
Cipher didn’t answer right away. He just watched me, his gaze dropping to my mouth before dragging slowly back up to my eyes. My insecurities rushed in to fill the quiet. I knew exactly what I was to him. A pawn. A game. A warm body he could bend to his will.
“Let me guess,” I said, looking away from the intensity of his stare. “Hostage. Collateral Damage. Annoyance. Whore. Or maybe just a blank space, because I’m expendable the second I stop being entertaining.”
Cipher’s thumb stopped moving on my hip and his fingers dug in. I snapped my attention back to his face and saw that the amusement was gone, replaced by a deep frown.
“Sparks,” he said. The word was flat, almost a reprimand.
I blinked, the anger leaking out of my sails. “What?”
“You are in my phone as Sparks.”
I stared at him, my brain stalling. It wasn’t an insult. It wasn’t a degrading designation or a dismissive joke. “Why Sparks?”
His thumb resumed its slow stroke against my skin.
“Because our first real interaction ended with you using that cuff to shock me off a fucking building. And,” Cipher leaned in until his lips brushed my ear, “given the way the tattoos on my skin light up the second you touch me... The name continues to track.”
I had expected cruelty and braced for some mocking reminder of what I was expected to be to him. Instead, he had given me a nickname that was surprisingly affectionate.
It also made me deeply uncomfortable.
“So, while you were violating my privacy, did you find anything interesting in my phone?” I asked, my voice dripping with as much annoyance as I could muster. “Were you just riveted by my personal planner apps? Fascinated by my grocery lists?”
“I found texting Dawn to be highly educational.”
My stomach plummeted. “You texted Dawn?”
“I did,” he said, his tone infuriatingly casual. “In fact, your plans for the evening have changed. Dawn invited you to Luciano’s at eight and I accepted on your behalf.”
“I can’t go to Luciano’s.” I twisted against his grip. “We have a required event tonight and the Alliance expects me to be there hunting the rogue.”
“The Alliance expects Keeper Bishop to do what she’s told,” Cipher corrected. “But this is my career, Annie, and I’ve decided I don’t want my plaything present tonight.”
Plaything.
The word scraped against my nerves. A second ago, I was Sparks. A second ago, there was a hint of possessive warmth in his voice. Now, I was just a toy. A prop he could bench whenever he didn’t want to play with it.