Chapter 35
CIPHER
Oh fuck. When I’d used the Hammer...
I’d been so fucking reckless. The EMP pulse I’d sent out had knocked out everything electronic—including Annie’s cuff. The one thing keeping her safe from the power she feared most.
I rushed to her side. “Annie—”
Annie shook her head frantically and sobbed, stumbling backward.
“The cuff’s dead,” Havoc said, his voice tight. “We need to get it back online now.”
I activated the Hammer, feeling the familiar surge of power through my forearm. Focusing on the delicate circuitry of Annie’s cuff, I sent a precise pulse of energy, just enough to jumpstart the systems without frying them completely.
The energy flooding her veins extinguished and my suits sensors told me the cuff was active again. But the damage was done.
“It’s okay,” I soothed. “It’s back online.”
Annie just shook her head, not dropping her hands from her mouth.
Gently I pulled and got them away but Annie was still sobbing uncontrollably. “I used it,” she whispered, her voice broken. “I made you stop. I controlled you.”
“Annie, it wasn’t your fault.”
“I swore I’d never use it,” she gasped between sobs.
I shifted my gaze from Annie to take in the full aftermath of what had just happened. Valor stood frozen, eyes vacant, still caught in the grip of Annie’s command.
But Helios?
He was on his hands and knees, gasping like he’d been gut-punched. His entire body trembled, fingers clawing at the rooftop surface as if trying to anchor himself to reality. The look on his face, pure, unfiltered horror, was directed straight at Annie.
I moved instantly, positioning myself to block Annie’s view. The last thing she needed was to see that expression, to carry that memory along with everything else that had just happened.
“Annie, look at me,” I murmured, cupping her face and turning it toward mine. “Just me.”
Behind me, I heard Havoc’s voice, low and urgent. “Cipher, you’ve got her?”
“Yes,” I replied without turning.
Havoc moved quickly to check on his protégés while I focused entirely on Annie. Her body shook with sobs, tears streaming down her face. I pulled her against my chest, wrapping my arms around her as if I could somehow shield her from what had happened.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered against her hair. “I’m so fucking sorry. This is my fault. The EMP pulse—I didn’t think—”
Annie’s fingers clutched at my suit, desperate for something to hold onto. “It felt good,” she whispered, the words barely audible. Another sob tore through her body. “It felt so good to make you stop. To make you both do exactly what I wanted.”
The self-loathing in her voice shattered something inside me. It was unbearable to hear. I tightened my arms around her and crushed her against me. I wanted to absorb the guilt right out of her skin. Of course it had felt good. She was magnificent.
“I’ve got you,” I told her. I pressed my mouth hard against her temple. “It was an accident. It was my fault. You never have to touch it again. I’m right here. You leave the darkness to me, Annie. I’ll be the monster so you never have to be.”
“Check my cuff,” she begged, her voice breaking. “Please, check it again. Make sure it’s working.”
I activated the Hammer again, scanning the circuitry of her dampener cuff. “It’s fine,” I assured her, running my thumb across the smooth metal surface. “It’s perfectly fine. The power is contained again.”
She nodded frantically and I pulled her back against me, resting my chin on top of her head as she continued to cry.
I sensed movement and looked up to see Helios approaching us. His usual radiance was dimmed, face ashen. He moved like someone recovering from a severe shock, each step careful and measured.
I tensed, ready to fight if necessary. If he said one word, made one accusation that would hurt Annie further, I’d tear him apart.
Helios stopped a few feet away, his eyes fixed on Annie’s trembling form in my arms. I shifted slightly, angling my body to keep her face hidden from him.
“Don’t,” I warned, the single word carrying all the threat I could muster.
Havoc glanced at Helios, his expression unreadable. “Go inside. I’ll be there shortly.”
Helios hesitated, his gaze lingering on Annie.
“Now, Helios,” Havoc said, his voice harder.
Helios finally turned, shoulders slumped as he made his way toward the rooftop access door. Valor followed behind him, moving mechanically. His eyes remained vacant, his face slack and expressionless.
Havoc knelt beside us and placed a gentle hand on Annie’s shoulder.
“Annie,” he said softly. “Look at me.”
She turned her face toward him, her eyes red-rimmed and haunted.
“You did nothing wrong,” Havoc told her, his voice firm but kind. “You stopped a fight that could have ended very badly. You protected everyone on this roof.”
“I used it,” she whispered. “I swore I never would.”
“And you wouldn’t have if the circumstances hadn’t forced your hand.” Havoc’s gaze shifted to me briefly, a silent accusation I couldn’t argue with. “The cuff is working again. You’re safe.”
Annie nodded, her breathing gradually steadying.
“We should go inside,” Havoc said after a moment. “And Cipher, if you try to start anything with Valor, I will put you through a fucking wall. Understood?”
I didn’t even look at him. My eyes were on Annie, on the tear tracks staining her cheeks, on the way her fingers clutched at my suit like she might drown if she let go.
“Fuck Valor,” I said quietly. “Annie is the only thing that matters. Ever.”
Havoc must have been satisfied with my answer because he didn’t say anything else. I rose with Annie, keeping my arm around her waist to support her.
We followed Havoc inside and he led us to his personal quarters. Annie leaned heavily against me the entire way, exhaustion evident in every line of her body. Once we reached Havoc’s living room, I helped Annie sink down onto the couch.
“You should rest,” Havoc told her, moving toward the door. “I’ll be back, but I don’t know when. I need to deal with Valor. It will take some time for him to come around. Then I need to check on Helios.”
“I’ve got her,” I said. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her. I couldn’t stop watching the way her pulse fluttered at her neck, the way her knuckles turned white from how tightly she was gripping me.
“Alright,” Havoc said and started to leave.
“Wait,” Annie called out, twisting in my arms to see him.
Havoc turned back with one eyebrow raised.
“That day in the Crucible, when you said Valor had potential,” Annie asked, her voice still rough but focused, “did you mean as a Hero or as a Villain?”
I stared at her, not sure what she was talking about.
“Which do you think, Annie?” he asked.
Annie didn’t answer, just held his gaze steadily.
“Hopefully it won’t take much convincing to get him to the side he belongs on now,” he said, a knowing smile forming on his face. “The man’s been fighting his nature since day one.”
I watched Annie carefully, expecting shock or at least surprise at the revelation that Valor was apparently League material. Instead, she nodded thoughtfully, clearly processing this information against her own observations.
“He’d do well with the League,” she said quietly, then turned to me with a questioning look in her still-reddened eyes. “Wouldn’t he?”
I considered the question. Valor was powerful, charismatic, at least to the cameras, and had a natural flair for the dramatic that would serve him well as a Villain. But he was also arrogant and impulsive. Not exactly bad traits for the League either.
“As long as he doesn’t piss off the wrong person before he can get established,” I replied carefully, thinking particularly of myself.
The thought of Valor joining the League, potentially becoming a regular fixture in my professional life, sent a surge of irritation through me.
But there was also a certain poetic justice to it.
The Alliance’s shining star falling from grace, trading his pristine reputation for the freedom to be the self-centered asshole he truly was.
I suppressed a smile as I thought about what his first season in the League would look like. Namely, how fast I’d fucking kill him.
Annie collapsed back against me, her body finally surrendering to exhaustion as Havoc left.
“Talk to me,” she whispered, her voice thick with fatigue. “Please just keep talking.”
I pulled her closer. “What should I talk about?”
“Anything,” she murmured against my chest. “Just your voice.”
I smiled softly, understanding what she needed. Not content, but sound, something to drown out her thoughts.
“Did I ever tell you about the first invention I ever built?” I began. “I was six. It was this ridiculous contraption meant to feed our cat automatically. Looked like a Rube Goldberg machine made of cereal boxes and string.”
She gave a small huff of breath.
“It worked exactly once before catching fire,” I continued, my voice low and steady. “My mother was furious about the scorch marks on the kitchen counter.”
I fell silent, suddenly aware of what I’d just said. My mother. Why the hell had I brought her up? I never talked about my parents. Never. They were a locked door in my mind, sealed shut and buried.
Annie shifted against me. “What was she like? Your mother?”
I felt my jaw tighten, muscles locking into place. A reflexive response to keep the words contained, to maintain the wall I’d built.
“Not important,” I said finally.
I could feel Annie processing my response, weighing whether to push or retreat.
“What about the house?” she asked instead. “Where did you grow up?”
I exhaled slowly, grateful for the redirect. This was safer territory. Buildings didn’t have expectations or disappointments.
“East Kilbride,” I said. “Small town outside Glasgow. Nothing special about it, just another suburban development trying desperately to look quaint.”
Annie nestled closer, her body gradually relaxing against mine.
“The house was old stone on the outside, all modern inside. Three stories with these ridiculously narrow stairs. I had the attic room. Converted it into my first workshop when I was nine.”