Chapter 20
ANNIE
I scowled down at my phone, the message from Havoc burning into my retinas like I’d stared at the sun too long. The body count was now twenty-eight dead supers. All with the same mysterious symptoms, all from the same training cohort as Helios.
And still no response from Wraith.
I fired off my fourth message this week to the elusive tech genius. At this point, I was basically sending texts into the void.
Please respond. This is urgent.
Behind me, I heard Cipher’s voice, low and oddly melodic, as he continued his “conversation” with the League member he’d captured.
And by “conversation,” I mean a master class in creative threatening.
Cipher had that special talent of making grown men cry without laying a finger on them and for the past hour, he had been picking apart the poor bastard’s bravado.
The Villain, Inferno, had gone from cocky to whimpering in record time.
I almost felt sorry for him. Almost.
I’d been at Cipher’s side all day, his not-so-secret girlfriend. The mask covered my face but did nothing to hide the whispers that followed us like persistent shadows.
The first interviewer, a woman with cat-eye glasses and a perpetual smirk, had glanced between us with eyebrows climbing into her hairline. She’d opened her mouth, clearly ready to ask who exactly was I, but Cipher had shut it down before she could start.
“The interview is about my match with Havoc,” he’d said, voice deceptively soft. “Not about my personal life.”
She’d snapped her mouth shut.
We’d moved through a schedule packed with interviews and meetings until Cipher had stumbled upon Inferno. Now I was watching Cipher extract information from him about a potential League security breach.
Inferno whimpered something incoherent, drawing my attention back to the present.
“I already told you everything I know!”
Cipher’s laugh was cold. “No, you haven’t. But you will.”
I heard the containment cell door slide shut, followed by Cipher’s footsteps approaching. Even his walk sounded smug. How was that possible?
“What’s wrong?” His voice was closer than I expected, making me jump.
“Nothing’s wrong,” I lied, because apparently I enjoy being transparently dishonest to a man who reads people for a living.
“You’ve been glaring at your phone like it insulted your rulebook.” He dropped into the seat beside me, stretching his long legs out. “And you’ve completely ignored my masterful interrogation techniques, which, frankly, is a little hurtful.”
“Sorry I missed your Villain-on-Villain ASMR session back there,” I muttered.
“What’s wrong?” Cipher asked again.
I shook my head, staring down at my phone like I could will Wraith to respond if I concentrated hard enough.
A blur of movement, and suddenly my phone wasn’t in my hand anymore. Cipher twirled it between his fingers.
“Give that back,” I snapped.
He didn’t try to unlock it, but I could feel the weight of his stare behind that mask. The challenge was clear: tell me what’s bothering you, or I’ll find out myself.
“It’s confidential Alliance business.” The words came out flat and drained of energy.
“Give me the non-confidential version,” he said, leaning closer. “I’ll get the rest myself when you’re not looking. That way you won’t get in trouble.”
“You are trouble,” I muttered. I held out my hand. “Phone. Now.”
He placed it in my palm, his fingers lingering against my skin. “Fine. Keep your secrets, Sparks. But remember,” his voice dropped to a whisper, “I’m very, very good at finding things people don’t want found.”
I sighed, my shoulders slumping because I knew he’d make good on the threat sooner rather than later. “I’m still trying to contact Wraith. I’ve lost count of how many messages I’ve sent already, but he hasn’t responded. I feel like I’m failing.”
His hand found mine and he interlaced our fingers. A few minutes ago, he was psychologically destroying a man. Now, his thumb stroked the back of my knuckles with quiet devotion. Being the singular soft spot in a monster’s world was going to ruin me.
“You’re not failing,” he said. “And I told you not to contact Wraith, or have anything to do with him.”
“That’s not an option.” I shoved my phone into my pocket. “It’s just hard for me to be given something important and not be able to complete it.”
My fingers twitched against my thigh, the weight of twenty-eight dead people pressing down on my conscience.
“I can’t shake the feeling that something horrible is going to happen if I don’t manage to contact him. Like I’m just at the beginning of something worse.”
Cipher squeezed my hand once before releasing it and standing. “I have more work to do,” he sighed, striding toward one of the workstations where Number Three hunched over a screen.
I watched him go, admiring the way his suit hugged his ass.
But there was only so much ass watching I could do. I pulled my phone back out, refreshing my messages for the millionth time and nearly dropped the damn thing.
There it was. A response from Wraith. Just a time, 10 PM, and a video link. No pleasantries, no apology for the delay, not even a period at the end. Just the bare minimum communication needed.
I checked the time. 9 PM. Shit.
I rushed over to Cipher, who was leaning over Number Three’s shoulder, pointing at something on the screen.
“I need to go,” I blurted out. “Wraith finally responded.”
Cipher straightened, his posture stiffening. “When?”
“Meeting’s at 10.”
His mouth tightened into that stubborn line I knew too well. “You agreed to stay with me this weekend.”
“I know, but this is—”
“Important. Everything with the Alliance is important.” He sneered. “Fine.”
I blinked, surprised by his quick capitulation. “Really?”
“I’m not happy about it.” His tone made that abundantly clear. He glanced toward the containment cell where Inferno was probably contemplating his life choices. “You should go now anyway. You probably shouldn’t be around for the next part of my plan.”
I followed his gaze, and nodded.
Cipher’s mouth quirked into a surprised smile. “You’re not even going to ask what I’m planning to do with him?”
“Nope. Plausible deniability and all that. Besides, he tried to blow up a children’s hospital last month, so...” I made a vague gesture that somehow conveyed ‘do your worst’ without me having to say it out loud.
Cipher laughed. “You’re terrible at being good sometimes, you know that?”
I shrugged “I’m selective about my moral outrage.”
“Number Five, set course for the Tower,” Cipher called out, his voice carrying that edge of command that brooked no argument.
The airship banked immediately and the subtle shift in momentum made me press against Cipher’s side. He leaned down. “You’ll come back to me as soon as you’re done.”
“Yes.”
His hand slid to the nape of my neck, fingers threading through the hair at the base of my skull. The gentle pressure was at odds with the hard line of his mouth.
“And Annie? If you need anything, anything at all, you call me.”
“I will.”
I sat in one of Havoc’s office chairs, my leg bouncing with nervous energy as I watched him pace the length of his office.
I straightened my blouse with shaky hands. Cipher had an extra uniform of mine on hand in the airship and, for once, I hadn’t questioned why. I was just thankful he’d had it ready for me.
I was also thankful that Havoc hadn’t questioned why it was that I’d arrived at the Tower on Cipher’s aircraft. But I knew that conversation was coming. Probably very soon.
I jumped as soon as the call chimed.
“Ready?” Havoc asked, finger hovering over the accept button.
I gave a nod.
The screen flickered, and a stylized “W” appeared, wrapped in digital smoke. My heart rate kicked up a notch. I’d half-convinced myself Wraith was just an urban legend, but apparently he was very real.
The symbol dissolved, replaced by a darkened silhouette. No features were visible. Just the outline of a person, backlit against an equally nondescript background.
“Wraith,” Havoc said. “Thank you for agreeing to talk.”
I studied the shadow on the screen, trying to glean anything about the figure. Height, build, even the setting they were in, but they were all deliberately obscured.
“Havoc,” the distorted voice greeted, somehow managing to sound both mechanical and smooth at the same time. “It’s been some time.”
“Twenty-eight deaths in the last month,” Havoc said without preamble.
“All labeled as natural causes or equipment malfunctions. Fifteen ‘natural causes’ presenting as heart attacks, strokes, and aneurysms. Thirteen technical failures. The death patterns don’t make sense.
The victims range from support staff to junior Heroes to retired Supers.
The only connection we’ve found is that most had some association with a specific Alliance training cohort from the Crucible. ”
“You mentioned technical failures?” Wraith’s distorted voice asked, a hint of interest breaking through the modulation.
Havoc took a deep breath. “Yes.”
Wraith was silent for a moment. “You suspect tampering with the equipment.”
It wasn’t a question, but Havoc nodded anyway. “Someone’s covering their tracks well. The Alliance tech team found nothing, no evidence of hacking, no physical tampering. But these systems don’t just fail simultaneously.”
“And the ‘natural causes’?” Wraith asked.
“Too many, too fast, and too similar to be coincidental,” Havoc replied. “The medical examiner found nothing suspicious.”
“But your instincts tell you otherwise,” Wraith finished for him.
“Yes,” Havoc admitted. “Something connects these deaths. I need someone who can see patterns our people might miss. Someone who understands both the technology and the people who might want to exploit it.”
“What you’re suggesting sounds like it would deal with remote tampering and would require extraordinary skill,” Wraith said.
“Which is why I’m talking to you,” Havoc replied evenly.
Wraith cocked his head. “And why should I help you with this? What’s in it for me?”
I felt my eyebrows rise. Now I understood why Havoc had called him insufferable.