Chapter 9
ANNIE
The elevator doors opened with their usual cheerful ding, and I stepped out wondering what fresh hell awaited me today.
I’d spent most of the night staring at my bedroom ceiling, alternating between replaying my impromptu meal with Cipher and questioning my own sanity.
Because apparently my brain and body were coming to an agreement.
They thought maybe round two of emotional devastation at Cipher’s hands sounded like a good idea.
“Annie! Perfect timing.”
I looked up to find Valor leaning against the reception desk, looking like he’d stepped off the cover of Hero Weekly. The man probably woke up camera-ready.
“Valor,” I managed. “What can I do for you?”
Please let it be something simple. Please don’t let it involve actual thinking.
He flashed that million-dollar smile. “I wanted to discuss our public appearances schedule.”
I checked my watch. “I’ve got about ten minutes until my first meeting.”
That was technically true. My meeting was with the coffee maker in the break room, but Valor didn’t need those specifics. I still hadn’t recovered from his stupid photoshoot last night.
“Perfect, I’ll be quick.” His smile somehow managed to get even brighter. “Alliance PR sent you the details about tonight’s interview. I’ll need you there, of course.”
I wanted to say of course you will, because you can’t be freaking trusted alone with the media, but also, another goddamn interview? He did more interviews than Havoc and he was the top rated Hero in the Alliance. Hell, he was the current top rated Super, period.
Alliance PR really was pulling out all the stops to push Valor.
I sighed. “I’ll check my schedule.”
“Annie.” His voice took on that earnest quality that melted hearts. It just put me on edge. “This interview is really important to me. I’ve hired an Alliance stylist for you for the evening. I’d really appreciate it if you’d listen to their suggestions.”
The urge to point out that I had listened to the stylist for the retirement party and he’d hadn’t liked what they’d chosen warred with my desire to end this conversation to get to my coffee. Professional Annie won.
“I’ll take their opinions under advisement.”
I turned toward my office before he could launch into whatever speech about “image coordination” was clearly brewing behind those green eyes.
“Great! The stylist will be here at four.”
Fantastic. Just enough time to question all my life choices then.
I pushed through my office door and paused.
There was a cup of coffee already on my desk and beside it was a single purple rose.
Cipher had been here. In my office.
I touched the velvety petals of the rose. All the thorns had been meticulously stripped away, leaving the stem perfectly smooth. My mind flashed to the last time he left me a thornless rose, right next to Baron Ash’s severed hands.
My eyes drifted upward to the highest shelf of my bookcase.
Tucked away in the shadows, invisible to anyone wandering into my office for a chat, sat the glass preservation box.
Inside rested those massive, calloused hands.
I still wasn’t entirely sure why I hadn’t had Simmons incinerate them but looking at them settled something dark and fractured inside me.
They were the undeniable proof that one of the monsters who haunted my nightmares could never hurt me again.
I glanced back at the rose. After our conversation the night before, I recognized it for what it was—a silent declaration that the Tower’s security was nothing but a minor inconvenience to him.
A message delivered with all the subtlety of a brick through a window as he claimed his territory right under Havoc’s nose.
I was here. I could have done anything. But all I did was bring you coffee.
I hated that knowing a monster could slip into my office undetected made me feel infinitely safer than the dozens of Heroes occupying the lower levels of the Tower.
I pulled out my phone and stared at his contact.
My thumb hovered over the keyboard. Part of me wanted to text him just to make a point: Nice security breach. Havoc would be thrilled to know his impenetrable fortress can be penetrated by anyone with a coffee cup and zero respect for boundaries.
But that would be giving him exactly what he wanted—my attention.
Nope. Not happening.
I pocketed my phone and picked up the coffee instead.
“Breaking and entering to deliver caffeine,” I muttered to the empty office. “How romantic. Next time maybe try not committing felonies as foreplay.”
I took a sip, hating that it was exactly what I needed this morning.
As I sorted through the morning’s paperwork, I kept looking at the stupid rose sitting there, all innocent and thornless. Like removing sharp objects somehow made breaking into the Tower less invasive.
“This isn’t about security,” I told the rose as if it might relay the message. “It’s about you thinking rules don’t apply when you’re ‘taking care’ of someone.”
The rose, predictably, offered no defense for its courier.
I finished my coffee and tucked the rose into my desk drawer. Out of sight, but not entirely out of mind, much like its sender.
The morning slipped away in a blur of meetings, paperwork, and trying not to think about Cipher. By noon, I’d managed to clear most of my inbox and fit three press appearances into Valor’s already packed schedule.
Lunch consisted of a sad desk salad, because I wasn’t going to tempt fate by forgetting to eat, while I reviewed Helios’s training schedule. Unlike Valor, he’d submitted his preferences with a polite note thanking me for my time. The contrast between the two men was enough to give anyone whiplash.
At 1:45, I packed up my tablet and headed to Havoc’s office for the scheduled viewing of the Granite versus Toxica match. The annual Alliance rivals’ fights were always a spectacle, drawing massive crowds and viewership numbers that made the Alliance PR team drool.
I found Havoc already settled in his oversized leather chair, the wall-sized screen displaying the pre-match commentary. Helios stood by the window, his golden hair catching the afternoon light in a way that made him look like he was glowing from within.
“Annie!” He smiled warmly. “I brought cookies from that bakery you mentioned.”
I spotted the familiar box on Havoc’s conference table and felt a rush of appreciation.
“You’re officially my favorite protégé,” I said, reaching for a chocolate chip cookie that was still slightly warm.
“I haven’t even been given the chance to be your favorite,” Valor announced, striding into the room.
And there went my good mood.
“The match starts in five minutes,” Havoc said, mercifully cutting off whatever charm offensive Valor was about to launch. “Annie, did you bring the assessment forms?”
I nodded, pulling up the documents on my tablet. “Ready to go.”
Valor glanced between us and the screen. “Wait, we’re watching it here? Why aren’t we at the Colosseum? Don’t you have a box?”
My stomach dropped at the mention of the Colosseum. Suddenly, I wasn’t in Havoc’s office anymore but back in the cold access tunnels, Baron Ash’s hands on my skin, his breath on my neck.
“My box at the Colosseum is being renovated,” Havoc said smoothly. “Besides, we can analyze the fight better from here. Multiple camera angles, instant replay.”
I forced air into my lungs, focusing on the present. On the cookie in my hand. On the fact that I was safe.
Baron Ash is dead. He can’t hurt me.
I thought of the severed hands displayed in my office. A grotesque trophy, yes, but also a reminder. Cipher had made sure Baron Ash would never touch anyone again. Had hunted down every last one of his associates in a single night of bloodshed that had made headlines for weeks.
“Annie?” Helios’s concerned voice broke through my thoughts. “Are you okay?”
I blinked, forcing a smile. “Just thinking about the match-up. Toxica’s been working on some new techniques.”
Havoc caught my eye. He knew why I couldn’t go back to the Colosseum. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
“The pre match is starting,” he announced, turning up the volume. “Let’s see if Granite’s finally figured out how to counter Toxica’s acid spray.”
I settled into my seat, grateful for Havoc’s excuse, for the fact that Baron Ash’s hands were in my office and not on my body.
I opened my tablet and winced at the notification from Alliance PR that had been sitting there all day with its little red exclamation mark. “URGENT: Valor Interview Prep - MUST READ.”
I’d get to it. Eventually. Probably right before the stylist showed up.
The guilt lasted approximately two seconds before being replaced by the much more pressing need to listen to the commentators give their pre-match news.
“—and in a surprising turn of events last night, Cipher canceled his scheduled fight with Ironclad at the last minute,” the commentator said. “No explanation was given for the sudden withdrawal.”
My cookie froze halfway to my mouth.
Wait. What?
“Speculation is running wild,” the second commentator chimed in. “Some sources claim he was pursuing a lead on Doctor Domino’s latest project, while others suggest he might be injured. Whatever the reason, Ironclad was not pleased with the last-minute cancellation.”
The cookie crumbled between my suddenly tense fingers. Last night. Cipher had canceled a fight last night. The same night he’d shown up at my apartment with sushi because I was “starving myself out of spite.”
Oh god.
He couldn’t have. He wouldn’t have.
Would he?
My brain helpfully replayed the timeline. His fight would have been at 7PM, standard for a night match for someone of his rank. He’d shown up at my door around 7:30 with food that must have taken time to acquire. And he’d stayed afterward.