Chapter 4
ANNIE
I slumped against the Nexus’s exterior wall, arms crossed and still seething about the Valor situation. The massive geodesic dome loomed above me like an architectural show-off, its glass panels shifting from azure to indigo in the evening light.
Despite my foul mood, I had to admit the structure was impressive. But I couldn’t really appreciate it at the moment.
My mind was still stuck on the phone call from this morning. The PR director had talked in circles about brand alignment and public image while explaining why a staged romance with Valor was the best plan for keeping him in line.
I should have said no. Instead, my ingrained obedience took over. I actually heard my own voice telling him I would think about it.
I had been grinding my teeth over it all day.
I will think about it. It sounded so pathetic and weak.
But as much as I wanted to kick myself for not shutting the director down immediately, a tiny part of me recognized the milestone.
Not that long ago, I would have just bowed my head and asked what time my fake dates were supposed to start.
Telling the Alliance I needed to think about a direct request was the closest I had ever come to actually telling them no.
Still, by failing to give a firm rejection, I had basically given them permission to keep pushing. Now I had a deadline of tomorrow morning to give them a final answer.
I checked my watch and winced. Five minutes until I was supposed to meet Dawn and Hunter. Time to shove all my Valor-related rage into the mental box labeled “Deal With Later” and slap on my best friend face.
Deep breath in. Deep breath out. Compartmentalization achieved.
Tonight was kind of funny. Dawn had never taken me up on my invitations to watch Super fights before.
Not that I blamed her. The whole culture was ridiculous from an outsider’s perspective.
All that posturing and property damage packaged as entertainment.
But here she was, making an effort because she thought Hunter was into it.
Poor Dawn. I really wasn’t looking forward to the fallout of when she found out Hunter, and by proxy, myself, had been lying to her about who he was.
At least Hunter was finally going to tell her and it was about damn time.
I’d been sitting on that secret for months, watching him dance around the truth while their relationship got more serious.
If he hadn’t planned to come clean soon, I would’ve had to kill him.
Friendship with Dawn trumped professional courtesy every time.
The glowing walkways leading to the Nexus’s entrance portals were filled with fans, their excited chatter creating a buzz that only amplified my headache.
It would seem tonight’s bout between Razorwire and the Mechanic was drawing a decent crowd despite their Miscreant rankings. Both were rising stars in the League, nothing like Cipher’s level, but entertaining performers in that “car crash you can’t look away from” kind of way.
“Annie!”
I turned to see Dawn waving, her curly red hair bouncing with an energy I wished I could bottle and sell. She hurried toward me with Hunter in tow.
“I have a surprise!” Dawn’s eyes lit up as she linked her arm with Hunter’s. “Hunter pulled some strings and got us special seating.”
“Special seating?” I raised an eyebrow, instantly suspicious. Last I’d checked, our tickets were only for general seating.
Hunter shifted his weight, suddenly finding the illuminated pathway fascinating. “Just a private box I managed to secure through some work connections.”
“It’s one of those luxury boxes, Annie! With the food service and everything!”
“How nice,” I said, trying and probably failing to sound excited for her. “And where exactly is this box located?”
Hunter cleared his throat. “North quadrant, upper level.”
The north quadrant. Of course. That section housed the designated viewing areas for higher-ranking League members who weren’t participating in the evening’s entertainment. My stomach knotted as Hunter guided us through a private entrance, bypassing the regular security screening.
The corridor lights pulsed with a subtle rhythm that matched the bass from the arena’s sound system and I could already taste the tang of adrenaline in the air. Or maybe that was just my fight-or-flight response kicking in.
Dawn broke away from us, drifting toward the edge of a platform we came across to gaze at the arena below. The moment she was out of earshot, I leaned closer to Hunter, keeping my voice low.
“Is this really a good idea? Bringing her to your actual box? What if someone tries to talk to you?”
Hunter’s expression softened as he watched Dawn lean over the railing.
“I want tonight to be perfect for her. Before I tell her everything.”
I sighed, feeling my resolve weaken. I really wished I could dislike Hunter more. It would make everything so much simpler if I could just file him under “Villain” and be done with it. Especially considering who his best friend was.
But watching Hunter’s eyes follow Dawn with such genuine adoration made that impossible. He loved her. Really loved her with a real, messy, terrifying kind of love that made people stupid and brave in equal measure.
“She’s going to freak out when you tell her, you know,” I murmured, but there was no heat behind my words.
We reached the wide hall lined on one side with private boxes, each entrance marked with subtle League rankings. We stopped at a door with a simple “V.” Villain-level access. How fancy.
Dawn gasped as we entered the box with its panoramic view of the arena. “Isn’t this amazing?”
I had to admit, the space was impressive. The seating looked comfortable and would beat general admission any day. There was a private top-shelf bar and all around were holographic displays showing fighter statistics.
Dawn and Hunter settled into their seats looking disgustingly happy together. I took the open seat next to Dawn, but my attention drifted to the conspicuously empty box next door.
I silently cursed myself for not checking the marking on that door. Given its size, it had to be reserved for someone important. Likely a Super Villain.
Hunter followed my gaze and when I caught him looking, he quickly turned away, pretending to read combatant stats on one of the displays.
“Hunter, who has the box next to this one?” I asked, but the announcer’s voice conveniently boomed through the Nexus, welcoming everyone to the night’s fight. Dawn cheered, capturing Hunter’s attention, but his shoulders were stiff.
He definitely didn’t want to answer my question.
My eyes kept returning to the empty box, my sense of doom growing with each passing second. It was like watching a horror movie where you know the monster is about to appear, but you can’t look away.
“You okay?” Dawn whispered, squeezing my arm. “You seem tense.”
“I’m fine,” I lied, forcing myself to look away from the box just as the crowd erupted in deafening cheers, drawing my attention to the display screens suspended above the arena.
My entire body went rigid as Cipher’s face filled the screens.
Well, not his face exactly. Just that infuriatingly perfect mouth visible beneath his mask.
His suit gleamed under the arena lights, the subtle glowing accent lines tracing his powerful frame as cameras tracked his entrance into the Nexus.
I’d managed three whole months without really seeing him.
Oh, I’d glimpsed him in passing. A blur on a news headline I quickly scrolled past, a shadow in my peripheral vision when Havoc reviewed fight footage. But I’d perfected the art of not truly looking, of letting my eyes slide over his image without registering the details.
Now, there was nowhere to hide. His presence consumed the arena, larger than life on every screen. The crowd’s roar faded to a distant hum as my focus narrowed to the curve of his lips, pulled into that confident smirk I knew so well.
My chest tightened painfully and memories flooded back. His voice in my ear, his hands on my skin.
Then the betrayal, the lies, the moment I realized he’d used me as a pawn in his game.
“Annie?” Dawn’s voice seemed to come from miles away. “Do you know him?”
I couldn’t answer. The cameras lingered on Cipher as he made his way toward the private boxes.
Toward our section.
The part of me that had been painstakingly rebuilding my life these past months, screamed to look away, to excuse myself to the restroom, to do anything but sit here and wait for him to enter the box next to ours. That part reminded me of sleepless nights and tear-stained pillows.
But another part, the traitor living in my chest, leaned forward imperceptibly, hungry for the sight of him. That part wanted him to look up, to see me, to cross the distance between us. That part remembered his laughter, his touch, the safety I’d felt in his arms before everything shattered.
I hated that part of myself almost as much as I tried to hate him.
My hands trembled slightly in my lap and I curled them into fists, nails digging into my palms, using the small pain to try to focus. I hadn’t prepared for this. All my careful avoidance, all my indifference, was useless in the face of his actual presence.
“Why is everyone so excited about him?” Dawn asked. “Isn’t he just watching like us?”
Hunter cleared his throat. “When someone of his rank shows up, it’s a big deal. Elevates the whole event.”
“Wait!” Dawn’s eyes widened. “I do know him! He’s Havoc’s new Nemesis, right? The one all over the news?” She laughed, the sound light and carefree. “Look at me, actually knowing something about Supers for once.”
I forced my mouth into what I hoped resembled a smile.
“So you do know him!” Dawn nudged me with her elbow, oblivious to my internal meltdown.
“Not really,” I managed. “We don’t interact much.”
Don’t interact much. Right. Just shared his bed, his secrets, fell for his lies, had my heart shattered by his betrayal. But sure, we barely interacted.