Chapter 7 #3
Instead, I settled the mask back over my face, feeling the familiar weight of it, the security of hiding behind Cipher the Villain again.
“Put Havoc through,” I said, not bothering to step away from Annie.
I saw the wall screen flick on in my peripheral vision, Havoc’s face appearing.
I kept my eyes fixed on Annie, watching her reaction. The slight widening of her eyes, the almost imperceptible straightening of her spine. She was relieved. She thought Havoc would be her escape route.
Not yet, Sparks.
“Return my Keeper. Now.” Havoc’s voice carried that dangerous calm I recognized from our previous encounters, the stillness before chaos erupted.
“Your Keeper?” I replied, finally looking at him. “I haven’t taken your Keeper.”
I watched Annie from the corner of my eye, noting the tension in her shoulders, the slight clench of her jaw. She knew exactly where this was going, and she hated that I’d outmaneuvered both her and Havoc.
“Don’t play games, Cipher.” Dark energy was visible around Havoc’s hands now, a warning I acknowledged but wasn’t particularly concerned about. “Our contract clearly states—”
“That I can’t kidnap your Keeper,” I finished smoothly, enjoying this moment perhaps more than I should. “But I didn’t take Annie as your Keeper tonight. I took her as Valor’s girlfriend. The asshole was being disrespectful, so I decided to teach him a lesson by taking his date.”
The argument was technically legally sound since Annie herself had uttered the words that she wasn’t there as a Keeper.
But the truth behind my words burned. Seeing Valor’s hands on her, watching him pull her against him like she was a prop for his ego, I’d nearly lost control right there in that ballroom.
Havoc’s eyes narrowed, flicking to Annie. “Annie?”
I felt a flash of irritation at the way her expression softened when addressing him.
“He’s right,” she admitted. “Technically, I was there as Valor’s date, not as your Keeper. If you try to void the contract on those grounds—” she shook her head.
I couldn’t help the satisfaction I felt, though I tried to temper it. Showing too much triumph would only antagonize her further.
“I meant was Valor being disrespectful to you?” Havoc corrected.
The question caught me off guard. I hadn’t anticipated Havoc’s concern being directed at Annie rather than his precious contract.
“Valor was being Valor,” Annie replied diplomatically.
Her answer only confirmed what I’d seen. That golden-haired fucker had overstepped, and Annie, professional to a fault, was downplaying it. The rage I’d felt watching him manhandle her flared again, hot and dangerous.
Havoc’s jaw clenched, chaos energy darkening around him, but he nodded. “You’re walking a very fine line, Cipher.”
“I always do,” I replied, injecting confidence into my voice even as part of me acknowledged the truth of his warning.
I was risking much for this confrontation.
My Nemesis contract, my standing with the League, potentially even my rank.
But three months without Annie had made one thing painfully clear: none of it meant anything if she wasn’t part of my life.
“Bring her home,” Havoc demanded. “Now.”
I reached forward to disconnect the call, allowing myself one final moment of defiance. “Eventually. When I’m finished.”
The screen went dark, leaving us in silence once more. I turned back to Annie, watching as she processed what had just happened.
She looked down at her hands. She’d been wringing them in that particular way she did when anxious. Her fingers twisted around each other, knuckles white. I wanted to reach out and take them, to stroke my thumbs across the backs and calm her.
She wouldn’t welcome that. At least I fucking knew that much.
“What do you want from this?” she asked. “From me?”
What did I want? Everything. Nothing less would satisfy the hunger that had been gnawing at me for months.
“I’m done watching you through fucking cameras.” No point in dressing up my words. “I’m done with distance.”
Her eyes snapped up to mine, widening slightly at the admission that I’d been monitoring her. Not surprise though, she was too smart for that.
“I need to occupy the same space as you.” I took a step closer, watching her pulse jump at the base of her throat. “I need to touch you. Taste you.”
She didn’t back away. Progress.
“I want you to take me. All of me. Not just the parts that are convenient or comfortable.” I moved closer still. “I want you to take the Villain, the man, the monster. Every fucking part.”
Comms chirped again, cutting through the tension between us like a fucking chainsaw. I wanted to rip the entire system out of the wall.
“Boss? Sorry, but it’s urgent.”
“Mute,” I snapped, and the system obediently went silent.
Annie’s eyes were still locked on my face, her chest rising and falling rapidly. I could taste her indecision in the air between us. The war between what she wanted and what she thought she should want.
I was so fucking close to breaking through. So close to having her admit that this thing between us wasn’t dead.
The comms chirped a different tone and some part of my brain registered that it was the emergency override code.
Someone was about to die. Possibly whoever was interrupting us.
“Fuck.” I pressed the button to answer the goddamn call.
The screen flicked back on, interrupting what had possibly been the most important fucking moment between Annie and me. One of the Syndicate’s agents appeared, a woman in the standard black suit and mask.
“Cipher,” she said, her voice modulated and professional. “The League is issuing an immediate sanction for your attack on a junior Alliance Hero.”
I caught Annie’s expression from the corner of my eye. That unmistakable “I told you so” look.
I glanced at the screen with deliberately mild interest, as if the agent weren’t issuing a professional sanction that would cost me approximately 1.
2 million in fines and at least one week of restricted operations.
An inconvenience, but one I’d factored into my decision matrix when I’d decided to punch Valor’s fucking face.
“The Syndicate finds this behavior beneath someone of your rank,” the agent continued. “A Super Villain targeting a junior Hero reflects poorly on the entire League.”
I shrugged. The gesture would communicate exactly what I wanted both Annie and the Syndicate to understand: that I considered the price worth paying.
“Noted.”
“You are ordered to return Keeper Bishop to the Tower immediately. Any further delay will result in additional sanctions. One more thing,” the agent added, consulting something off-screen.
“The Alliance has informed us that the Hero, Valor, is formally demanding an apology for the unprovoked assault.”
Annie’s jaw literally dropped. She turned to me, and I knew if she could see them, my eyes must have been as wide with disbelief as hers. The audacity of Valor’s demand momentarily united us in shared incredulity.
“He’s demanding a what?” she blurted, her composure slipping.
The screen went dark, leaving us in silence once more. My shock quickly transformed into dark amusement. Of course Valor would want an apology. He couldn’t simply accept that he’d been punched for being an ass.
My mind was already calculating the various ways I could comply with the letter of the demand while subverting its spirit. The possibilities were delicious.
Annie exploded into motion, pacing the length of my office.
“The absolute nerve of that man,” she seethed, her cheeks flushing with anger.
Her hands flew through the air, punctuating each of her words with sharp gestures.
“An apology? From you? For what? Interrupting his precious manhandling of me? His chance to grab my ass fully?”
I subtly tapped my wrist comm twice, signaling Number Eight to redirect our course to the Tower. This unexpected show was far too entertaining to interrupt.
Annie’s hair framed her face in wild waves as she continued her tirade. I leaned against my desk, utterly transfixed.
“And his stupid, perfect face,” she ranted, throwing her hands up. “God, I’m so sick of looking at it. He practices his smile in the mirror, did you know that? He has different smiles categorized for different occasions. Who does that?”
This was a side of Annie I loved to see. Completely unfiltered and gloriously furious.
“The man has the emotional depth of a puddle and the self-awareness of a narcissistic toddler,” she continued, barely pausing for breath.
“And now he wants you to apologize? For what? Damaging his precious ego? Or his jaw, which, by the way, would have healed before we even left the stupid terrace?”
She finally stopped, chest heaving, cheeks flushed, looking breathtakingly beautiful in her righteous anger.
“Finished?” I asked, unable to keep the amusement from my voice.
Annie glared at me, still breathing hard. “For now.”
“Correct me if I’m wrong,” I said, pushing off from the desk and moving toward her, “but isn’t he supposed to be your boyfriend? That was quite the character assassination for someone you’re dating.”
Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “He’s not my boyfriend.”
“I know,” I said, stopping just short of touching her. “My question is: did you ever rant about me like that? When we were sleeping together?”
“You? I didn’t need to rant about you. You’re perfectly aware of your own insufferable qualities.”
Her words, while meant as an insult, only punctuated the fact that I had fucking missed her.
“Boss?” Number Eight’s voice interrupted. “We’re approaching the Tower. ETA three minutes.”
Our time was up and I wasn’t sure if we’d accomplished anything more than just reestablishing that I was an asshole.
As I guided Annie toward the airlock, she asked, “Are you going to apologize to Valor?”