Chapter 30
ANNIE
I shifted in my seat beside Havoc, wincing slightly.
He hadn’t taken his eyes off the training session below since we’d sat down, which was fine by me. I was worried enough that he’d be a little too observant and ask me why I kept squirming.
Below us, Helios dodged a blast of energy from his sparring partner, a new junior Hero with electric powers.
“Hit him back, for god’s sake,” Havoc muttered, his fingers drumming against the armrest.
I scribbled notes, watching Helios dance around his opponent without ever unleashing his full potential.
Great. After this, Havoc would be in full grumpy-old-Villain mode. Last time that happened, he reorganized the entire trophy room by “aesthetic threat level”, whatever the hell that meant, and made me catalog everything.
My afternoon was definitely going to involve a lot of coffee and possibly hiding in supply closets.
I watched Helios dodge yet another attack, his movements fluid but frustratingly restrained. Why wouldn’t he just let loose? The junior Hero they’d paired him with was Trueborn. The guy could handle getting knocked around a bit. That was the whole point of selecting him.
But there was something else about Helios that caught my attention. Dark circles shadowed his eyes and his signature glow seemed dimmer today.
I’d been checking on him most mornings since he’d been warned about his peers dying, and he’d seemed fine, or at least he’d put on a convincing show of appearing fine. But each time I saw him, a little more exhaustion had crept in around the edges.
“He’s not sleeping,” I murmured.
Havoc grunted. “I doubt any of them are. Not when they don’t know who could be next.”
I bit my lip, watching Helios stumble slightly, something I’d never seen him do before.
I couldn’t blame him for losing sleep. If I were watching people I knew die one by one, I’d probably never close my eyes again.
“Enough!” Havoc’s voice boomed across the training room. “Helios, you’re fighting like you’re afraid to break a nail. This isn’t a dance recital.”
Havoc was just launching into his lecture on “appropriate power application” when the door to the observation room opened with a soft click. Simmons appeared and cleared his throat.
“Sir, Ms. Bishop. Your presence is requested for an immediate meeting.”
I frowned, pulling up the schedule on my tablet. “There’s nothing on here. Who’s calling a meeting?”
“Alliance public relations,” Simmons said, his voice actually reflecting the smallest bit of disdain.
Fantastic.
Havoc’s eyes narrowed, the blue sharpening to ice. “Did they say what this is about?”
“No, sir. They were quite insistent on your immediate attendance. They’re waiting in your office.”
Havoc stood. “Well then, we shouldn’t keep our guests waiting.”
As I followed him, my mind raced through the possibilities of what the meeting could be about. None of them were good.
When we reached Havoc’s office, the door slid open to reveal Martin Allen, head of Alliance PR. Another PR person I didn’t recognize sat next to Allen.
This wasn’t going to be good. Not at all. Had they come to get on to me for not kissing Valor? To reprimand Havoc for not letting the kiss happen and sending me home?
Havoc strode to his desk, the very picture of authority. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this unscheduled invasion of my office?”
I moved to take my position behind Havoc’s right shoulder, the traditional Keeper stance, but Martin lifted his hand.
“Ms. Bishop, please take a seat. This meeting concerns you directly.”
Well, crap.
“Let’s cut to the chase,” Martin said, as soon as I as sat down. He nodded to his assistant who pulled up something on his tablet. “The engagement announcement between you and Valor has generated unprecedented public interest. The ratings are through the roof.”
Havoc cut Martin off with a sharp gesture. “Did you not receive my message?”
I blinked, glancing between them. This was the first I’d heard about Havoc sending anything.
Martin shifted uncomfortably. “Well, yes, but—”
“Then I fail to see why we’re having this meeting.” Havoc’s smile was glacier-cold. “I informed the Aegis that the fake engagement is off. Effective immediately. I had assumed they would inform your office.”
I just stared at Havoc. He’d done what?
Martin cleared his throat. “We received their message, Mr. Havoc, but you don’t speak for Annie.”
“I do, in fact, speak for her. Annie is my Keeper and I’m done loaning her out to you.”
“Ms. Bishop is Alliance personnel,” Martin said, his voice strained but determined. “She’s a Keeper assigned to you, but she remains under Alliance authority.”
“Are you threatening to move Annie to another Hero?” Havoc asked, his voice dangerously soft.
Martin raised his hands in a placating gesture. “I’m not threatening anything. I’m simply setting the record straight.”
“How about I set the record straight?” Havoc’s smile widened, showing too many teeth. “Annie’s position as my Keeper is a permanent position. She can’t be moved.” He tilted his head. “Or didn’t you know that?”
I fought to keep my face blank instead of giving Martin a falsely sweet smile. Keepers were Alliance employees, assigned and reassigned as needed. They typically weren’t supposed to be permanent fixtures unless they were independently employed by a Super.
But I was a permanent employee. Only a few people knew that and Martin Allen wasn’t one of those people. He didn’t know what I was and he didn’t know that I was directly under Havoc’s protection.
To be fair, I could still lose my job, I just couldn’t be reassigned or forced to leave Havoc’s protection.
Martin cleared his throat, straightening his tie. “That may be, but Annie herself hasn’t asked for the engagement to be called off.”
“That’s not true, Mr. Allen.” I sat forward, heat rising to my face. “I called you within minutes of hearing the news.”
Martin’s expression tightened, the corners of his mouth pinching like he’d bitten into something sour.
“I told you there was no engagement and I wanted the situation corrected,” I continued. “You said, and I quote, ‘The narrative stands.’”
Havoc’s eyebrow arched as he turned his attention back to Martin. “The Aegis relented when I explained the situation. They agreed the engagement charade was off.”
“That’s all fine,” Martin said, his professional veneer cracking slightly, “but I’d like the chance to convince Annie to reconsider.”
“No.” The word shot out of my mouth before he could launch into whatever PR speech he’d prepared. “If I can get out of this PR stunt without losing my job, then I want out.”
“The publicity has been incredible,” Martin said, finally starting to snap. “Not just for Valor, but for the Alliance. Ratings are up across the board. Merchandise sales have doubled. We’re not asking much of you.”
My hands curled into fists in my lap. I could feel my nails digging crescents into my palms, the sharp pain keeping me from launching across the room and showing Martin just how much he was actually asking of me.
I took a breath, forcing my voice to remain steady. “Mr. Allen, am I speaking freely right now, or am I acting as a Keeper?”
“You may speak freely,” he said, but sounded like he wished I couldn’t.
A strange calm settled over me. Permission granted. Rules established.
I looked him directly in the eyes. “You couldn’t pay me enough to pretend to be Valor’s fiancée or his girlfriend or his anything. I barely tolerate being in charge of his schedule and training as Havoc’s protege.”
A telling flush spread over Martin’s face. “Ms. Bishop, I understand your frustration, but this is bigger than your personal preferences. The ratings spike from this engagement announcement is unprecedented.”
“My personal preferences? This isn’t about preferences. This is about my actual life that you’re treating like a prop for your PR campaign.”
“It’s temporary,” Martin insisted, spreading his hands. “A few months at most.”
“A few months?” My voice cracked. “Do you have any idea what this is costing me? I have a significant other who isn’t exactly thrilled about seeing headlines announcing my engagement to someone else.”
“This boyfriend of yours,” Martin said, his tone dismissive, “I’m sure he’ll understand it’s just for publicity.”
I laughed. Apparently no one from the Aegis had told Martin just who my boyfriend was. “Oh, he understands perfectly. He also understands that Valor keeps touching me and that he kissed me.”
Martin offered a smooth smile, missing—or ignoring—the warning in my tone.
“If this guy actually cared about you, he wouldn’t stand in the way of your career.
He sounds insecure but we can certainly draft a non-disclosure agreement for your partner.
Perhaps arrange a modest compensation package for his temporary discomfort that might alleviate some of his insecurity.
Is he in the private sector? The Alliance has connections everywhere.
We could arrange a promotion or a favorable transfer if he feels intimidated by Valor’s public status. ”
I stared at him. The image of Martin sliding a corporate check across a table to Cipher flashed through my mind. Cipher would probably laugh right before he snapped Martin’s neck.
“My relationship isn’t up for discussion,” I said firmly. “What is up for discussion is the fact that this fake engagement is crossing lines I never agreed to.”
“Lines can be redrawn,” Martin interjected smoothly. “The Alliance has invested considerable resources in this narrative.”
“What narrative?” I demanded. “The one where I’m so desperate I’d actually want to marry Valor?”
“This conversation is getting us nowhere,” Martin sighed.
“This conversation shouldn’t be happening in the first place!” Havoc’s voice thundered through the office, making Martin flinch. “Annie has given her answer. It’s no. End of discussion.”
“Alright,” Martin finally conceded, shoulders slumping slightly. “But we can’t just put out that it was fake. The public would lose faith in the Alliance’s transparency.”