Chapter 32
ANNIE
Viper’s green-tinted hair seemed particularly venomous this morning as she delivered the news with barely concealed excitement.
“—sources confirm all victims had connections to the late Baron Ash, leading analysts to speculate this unprecedented rampage was Cipher’s way of securing his position at the top of the League rankings for the rest of the season. Let’s take a look at those numbers now—“
The screen shifted to the League rankings board. Cipher’s name blazed at the top, his point total so astronomically higher than second place that it looked like a glitch in the system.
I heard the shatter before I registered that my coffee cup had slipped from my fingers. Hot liquid splashed across my bare feet, but I couldn’t feel it.
Twenty-seven people. Dead. In one night.
“Annie?”
Havoc’s voice came from behind me. I couldn’t turn around. Couldn’t tear my eyes from the screen where Viper was now showing grainy security footage of a shadow moving through a warehouse, followed by flashes of light and then nothing.
“Annie, your cup.” Havoc stepped around me, his body blocking my view of the screen. He glanced down at the ceramic shards scattered across the kitchen floor, then up at the television. “Oh, that.”
“That?” My voice came out strangled. “Twenty-seven people are dead, and you’re saying ‘oh, that’ like he forgot to take out the trash?”
Havoc’s expression didn’t change. “They were Baron Ash’s network.”
I stared at him, this man who’d raised me, who’d taught me about rules and boundaries and the careful balance between Heroes and Villains. “Since when do you condone mass murder?”
“Since when do you care about the people who helped drug and kidnap you?” He countered, his blue eyes piercing mine.
I flinched. Last night I’d come here because I couldn’t go home to Dawn covered in blood. I’d needed Havoc and his steady presence while I tried to process what had happened in that recovery room.
What I’d let happen. What I’d wanted to happen.
“He sent me away,” I said, hating how small my voice sounded. “Like I was nothing. And then he went and—” I gestured helplessly at the screen, where they were now showing body bags being loaded into coroner vans.
Havoc’s expression softened. “Annie—”
“Don’t ‘Annie’ me! Twenty-seven people! That’s—“ My voice cracked. I bent down to pick up the broken pieces of the mug, but Havoc caught my arm.
“Leave it. Sit down.”
I let him guide me to one of the kitchen stools, as the VEN broadcast continued in the background, Viper’s voice now excitedly breaking down Cipher’s meteoric rise in the rankings.
“He fucked me and sent me away,” I said, the words tumbling out. “Used me like a fucking stress ball and then dismissed me so he could go on his murder spree.”
Havoc’s expression shifted, his eyes widening slightly. Oops. Probably shouldn’t have led with that particular detail.
“Annie—”
“Twenty-seven people, Havoc!” My hands fluttered in the air, gesturing wildly at the screen. “Because Baron Ash touched his property. That’s all I am to him, a possession. Something he owns. And when someone messed with his things, he had to send a message.”
I was talking too fast, my words running together. The coffee puddle spread across the floor, seeping between the tiles. I couldn’t stop staring at it, watching it divide into tiny rivers.
“He got what he needed from me. A quick fuck to take the edge off before he went hunting. Because that’s our arrangement, right? No strings attached. Just bodies.” I laughed. “And now everyone knows exactly what happens when you touch Cipher’s plaything.”
Havoc’s hand settled on my shoulder. “Annie, stop.”
“Why? It’s true! He paraded me around like a trophy, and the minute someone damaged his property, he eliminated them. All of them. Because I’m his, and nobody touches what’s his without consequences.”
My voice had risen to something approaching a shriek. I clamped my mouth shut, mortified by the outburst. Havoc looked like he’d been hit with a stun gun, his expression frozen somewhere between shock and concern.
“Are you finished?” he asked quietly.
I nodded and the fury that had propelled my rant drained away, leaving me hollow.
Havoc shook his head. “Annie, he killed those men to send a message because it needed to be sent. But he also killed them because they helped Baron Ash do what he did to you.”
I just stared at him.
“Each one of them contributed to what happened in those tunnels. The security guard who looked the other way. The dealer who supplied the Somnolax. The technician who messed with the cameras so no one would come help you. They couldn’t be allowed to live.”
Cipher’s words echoed in my head: I’m going to kill anyone who touches you. Not because you’re mine, but because they deserve to die.
Apparently that extended to touching by proxy.
Twenty-seven people who’d never laid a hand on me personally, but who’d made it possible for Baron Ash to do so.
I should feel horrified, or at least outraged at the disproportionate retribution.
That should be the response of Annie Bishop who’d spent her life following rules and maintaining order.
Instead, I felt nothing. Just a hollow space where horror should be.
“Annie?” Havoc’s voice gentled. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I said automatically. “Just processing.”
Why had Cipher sent me away, then? If he’d gone on this rampage to avenge me, why dismiss me like I didn’t matter? The question burned in my throat, but I couldn’t bring myself to ask it out loud.
Havoc sighed, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “Look, maybe next time don’t tell me about you having—“ He trailed off, making a vague gesture with his hand.
“Oh god,” I groaned, covering my face with my hands as my cheeks flamed with mortification. Oh fuck, I’d told him we’d had sex. “Can we pretend I never said that part?”
“Already forgotten,” Havoc said, though his pained expression suggested otherwise. “It’s okay, Annie. I’d be foolish to think it wouldn’t happen eventually.”
I peeked through my fingers. “What does that mean?”
Havoc just shook his head, a strange half-smile on his face. “Nothing. Let me clean up this mess.”
He grabbed a roll of paper towels from the counter and knelt down, soaking up coffee. I joined him on the floor, gathering the larger ceramic shards.
“Careful,” Havoc warned as I reached for a particularly sharp piece. “You’ll cut yourself.”
“I’ve been handling my own broken mugs since I was twelve,” I reminded him.
“Yes, and you needed stitches that time.”
“That was one time and it was because you startled me when I was already holding the pieces.”
Havoc’s laugh rumbled through the kitchen, and for a moment, it was just us, the way it had been for years. No Cipher, no twenty-seven dead bodies. Just Havoc and Annie, cleaning up a mess together.
My hands still trembled slightly as I deposited ceramic shards into the trash, but the numbness was receding, replaced by something that felt almost like relief.
Twenty-seven people who would never hurt anyone again. Twenty-seven links in a chain of violence that had been permanently broken.
“Are you really okay with that many people dying?” The question that had been burning in my mind finally tumbled out.
Havoc didn’t look surprised by my question, more like he’d been waiting for it.
“Would it matter if I wasn’t?” he asked.
I stared at him. “Of course it would matter! You’re Havoc. You’re a Hero.”
A strange smile crossed his face. “Am I?”
“The Alliance must have called for you,” I pressed, the realization hitting me. “Last night, when Cipher was... when he was...” I couldn’t bring myself to say ‘on his killing spree.’ “They must have called you to help stop him.”
Havoc’s expression didn’t change. “They did.”
I waited for him to continue, to explain that he’d been busy, that he couldn’t get there in time. The explanation didn’t come.
My mouth dropped open. “You ignored the summons?”
He nodded once, his blue eyes never leaving mine and I just stared at him, unblinking. You didn’t just ignore an Alliance summons for help.
“Why?”
Havoc turned away, reaching for the coffee pot. The morning light caught on his profile, highlighting the thin scar that ran from his temple to his jaw. It was a souvenir from his Villain days that he’d never bothered to have removed.
“If I’d gone, Annie, I wouldn’t have tried to stop him.” His voice was matter-of-fact. “I would have joined in.”
“You can’t mean that,” I started. “You can’t—“
“Can’t I?” He turned back to me, coffee pot forgotten. “Deep down, I’m a bad man, Annie. I’m just very good at playing the Hero.”
I wanted to argue, to tell him he was wrong. Instead, I found myself remembering moments from my childhood, the cold fury in his eyes when he’d dealt with those who threatened me, the violence he was capable of when pushed.
“I don’t think this is news to you,” he said softly.
I swallowed hard. “It’s not.”
Havoc sighed, his shoulders rising and falling and I stared at my hands, suddenly fascinated by the coffee stain under my thumbnail.
“I should be horrified, right? Twenty-seven people are dead, and all I can think is—” I winced, forcing myself to say it. “I’m glad they’re dead. Every single one of them. Does it bother you how unbothered I am by all this?”
There. The terrible truth. I waited for Havoc’s disappointment.
Instead, he shrugged. “Doesn’t bother me at all.”
I blinked. “Seriously?”
“Annie, I’ve watched you alphabetize your cereal boxes. You once made a spreadsheet to determine the optimal route for grocery shopping.” His mouth quirked up at one corner. “If you’ve finally found something that doesn’t trigger your internal rule book, I’m counting it as personal growth.”
Leave it to Havoc to make my moral crisis sound like I’d finally learned to leave dishes in the sink overnight.
“But I’m a Keeper,” I protested. “I’m supposed to uphold the system, not silently cheer when someone burns it down with extreme prejudice.”