Chapter 20 #2
“People are dying,” I said before I could stop myself.
The shadow seemed to turn toward me, though it was impossible to be certain. “Ah, she speaks. And you are?”
“Annie Bishop,” I replied, meeting the featureless silhouette with a level gaze. “Havoc’s Keeper.”
“Bishop,” the distorted voice repeated. The way he said my name sent a wave of prickling down my spine.
Havoc tensed beside me as Wraith’s attention lingered on me.
“Let’s stay focused, Wraith,” Havoc said. “I’ll pay your usual fees for information. Double if you can deliver within forty-eight hours.”
The shadow on the screen shifted, and I realized they’d given a dismissive shrug.
“Money,” the modulated voice sighed. “Always everyone’s first solution.”
Havoc’s expression darkened. His fingers curled into a fist against the desk, and for a split second, I caught the faintest shimmer of chaos energy dancing between his knuckles.
“You want what you asked for last time?” Havoc asked, his voice unnervingly calm despite the storm brewing in his eyes.
What the hell kind of payment was worth that look?
“Yes. My price for you hasn’t changed.”
Havoc paced away from the screen and I took an involuntary step back from him.
“How interesting,” Wraith mused, the distortion in his voice doing nothing to hide his amusement. “Is your problem not important enough to ask for my help now knowing the cost?”
Havoc took a slow, deliberate breath. I could see the effort it took for him to maintain his composure.
“It is that important,” he said finally. “It’s worth the cost.”
The silence that followed felt weighted, as if Wraith was assessing the sincerity of Havoc’s response. I shifted uncomfortably, feeling like we were being toyed with while people’s lives hung in the balance.
“And what about you, Annie Bishop?” Wraith suddenly asked, the shadow turning toward me again. “Is it important to you?”
The question caught me off guard. Why did it matter what I thought?
“I don’t know the cost,” I said, slowly. “But, yes. Figuring out who’s behind these deaths is important to me. There are people who are still in danger. People who need to be saved.”
The shadow figure seemed to study me, though without being able to see his face, I could only guess at his expression. The silence stretched uncomfortably.
“Would you ask me to help you, Annie?” Wraith finally asked, my name curling through the voice modulation, like he was tasting it.
I felt heat rise to my cheeks. I wanted to snap back, to tell him exactly what I thought of his theatrics while people were turning up dead.
I took a deep breath, forcing my expression to remain neutral and my voice even.
“Wraith,” I said carefully, “I’m asking you to help us. We need your expertise to stop whoever is behind these deaths before more people die.”
He tilted his head. I couldn’t shake the feeling that behind that digital mask, someone was smiling.
“And what would you give me?” Wraith asked.
Havoc stiffened beside me. “My payment is enough,” he said.
Wraith held up a hand, just a silhouette of fingers splayed against the darkness, demanding silence. He didn’t speak another word, but his attention remained fixed on me.
I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry. “I don’t know what you’d want from me,” I admitted, fighting the urge to fidget under that faceless scrutiny.
“Would you pay the cost, though?” The modulated voice softened, almost intimate now. “To save lives? To stop the deaths?”
My stomach twisted. What kind of question was that? What kind of person would I be if I said no?
“I would do what’s necessary,” I answered carefully, “within reason. But I won’t compromise who I am or what I believe in. Not even to save lives.”
The shadow remained motionless and I couldn’t tell if my answer had satisfied them or disappointed them.
I held my breath, waiting for their verdict while trying not to show how much it mattered.
“A secret,” Wraith said. “I would require a secret from you, Annie Bishop. Something personal. Something you’ve never told anyone else.”
Havoc slammed his hand against the desk. “Enough. This wasn’t supposed to be part of our arrangement.”
“Then I’m done negotiating,” Wraith replied smoothly. “And you get nothing. Twenty-eight deaths will become thirty, then forty. Your choice.”
My stomach twisted into knots. The lives of potential victims weighed against what? My pride? My privacy?
“I won’t give you Alliance secrets,” I said finally.
Wraith’s modulated laugh crackled through the speakers. “I don’t need you for Alliance secrets. I have other sources for those.”
The shadow leaned forward, the silhouette growing larger on the screen. “Havoc, leave us. I want Annie’s secret for my ears alone.”
“Absolutely not,” Havoc growled. Items on the desk began to rattle as his power flared.
“I’ve already hacked the cameras in your office,” Wraith said, sounding bored. “I’ll know if you stay within earshot. Leave, or our deal is off.”
Havoc turned to me, his face a storm of conflicting emotions. “Annie, you don’t have to do this.”
“It’s fine,” I lied. “I’ll handle it.”
“This is bullshit,” Havoc snarled, but I could see the calculation behind his eyes. How many more would die if we refused?
“Go,” I said softly. “I’ll be okay.”
Havoc glared at the screen, the chaos energy around his hands intensifying for a moment before he reined it in.
“If you harm her in any way—” he began.
“Yes, yes, you’ll tear me apart molecule by molecule,” Wraith interrupted. “How original. The clock is ticking, Havoc.”
With one last concerned look, Havoc stormed out of the office and left me alone with the shadow on the screen.
“Well, Annie Bishop,” Wraith said. “It’s just you and me now.”
I straightened, refusing to show how unsettled I felt. “What kind of secret are you looking for?”
“Something personal. Something you’ve never told anyone,” the shadow replied. “Something that would hurt if revealed.”
“And what guarantee do I have that you won’t use it against me later?”
“None whatsoever.”
I stared at the shadowy figure on the screen. What secret could I possibly give that would satisfy this digital phantom? Something personal. Something I’d never told anyone.
My fingers found the cuff on my wrist, tracing its smooth edge. The weight of it had been a constant companion for almost two decades now. A prison and a protection all at once.
“I’m waiting, Annie Bishop.”
“When I was fourteen,” I began, my voice barely above a whisper, “I tried to kill myself.”
The shadow on the screen went perfectly still. I couldn’t see his face, couldn’t gauge his reaction, but the silence felt different.
“I’d been living with Havoc for four years by then,” I continued, the words spilling out now that I’d started. “Four years of wearing a version of this.” I lifted my wrist slightly, the cuff catching the light. “Four years of knowing what would happen if it ever failed.”
My throat tightened, as memories threatened to drown me. I forced myself to keep speaking.
“I couldn’t handle it anymore—the weight of it. The knowing. The fear.” My voice cracked. “I didn’t want to be responsible for what might happen if I lost control. I didn’t want to be the monster I was afraid I’d become.”
The shadow remained silent, waiting.
“So I decided to end it. I thought it would be better for everyone if I just... disappeared. If the thing inside me disappeared with me.”
I clenched my eyes shut, remembering the cold determination I’d felt that night. The strange calm that had settled over me once I’d made my decision.
“I wrote a note. Took a shower. Put on clean clothes.” A bitter laugh escaped me. “I was always so concerned with doing things properly, even then.”
My fingers tightened around the cuff. “I had it all planned out. But Havoc found me before I could do anything. He just knew. Somehow, he knew.”
The memory of his face that night, the fear in his eyes when he’d burst into my room, it still haunted me.
“I hated him for it,” I admitted, the confession burning my throat. “For months afterward, I hated him for stopping me. For making me continue living with this thing inside me that I never asked for. I never wanted.”
The walls of the office felt like they were closing in. I was peeling back my own skin and letting a faceless phantom watch me bleed. I looked directly at the shadow, as if I could see through the digital mask to the person behind it.
“I’ve never told anyone that. Not even—“ I caught myself before saying Cipher’s name. “Not even the people closest to me. It’s the most shameful thing I’ve ever done. Not the attempt itself, but hating the man who saved me. Who’s only ever tried to protect me.”
The silence stretched between us.
“Is that enough?” I finally asked, my voice hollow. “Is my adolescent trauma sufficient payment for your help?”
Wraith remained motionless for several seconds. When he finally spoke, the modulation seemed less severe, as if he’d adjusted it to sound more human.
“Yes, Annie. That will do.”
I exhaled slowly, feeling strangely empty. Like I’d given away something vital and irreplaceable.
“Why did you tell me?” Wraith asked. “You could have made something up. I never would have known.”
I blinked, surprised by the question. Why had I told him?
“I don’t know,” I admitted.
“Interesting,” he said. “Very well, Annie. I’ll look into your deaths.”
I couldn’t help the small sigh of relief that escaped me. Whatever game Wraith was playing, at least he’d agreed to help. That was all that mattered.
Havoc gave me a questioning look when I went to retrieve him but I just shook my head.
“He agreed to help us,” I said softly as we approached the view screen.
Havoc nodded, his posture relaxing slightly. “I’ll send over all the data we’ve collected so far,” he told Wraith’s shadow.
“I have one condition,” Wraith’s modulated voice cut through the room.
My body tensed immediately, the brief moment of relief evaporating. I should have known it wouldn’t be that simple.
Havoc scowled. “What condition?”