Chapter 36
ANNIE
Technically, Cipher had “imprisoned” me, but he had left me in my assigned quarters without a single locked door or a pair of handcuffs in sight.
When I finally got bored and walked out, the two henchmen stationed in the hall hadn’t tried to stop me.
They merely trailed a few paces behind, silent shadows escorting me straight to the Labyrinth’s command center.
Number Twelve had told me the Labyrinth’s security systems only permitted me to go exactly where Cipher allowed.
The fact that I made it to the command center and had sat there for several hours meant I had his tacit permission to occupy this space.
Not that I really cared if I had his permission or not.
I sat in the glow of the wall-to-wall monitors, watching the live feeds of Chroma Bay’s street clashes.
Cipher was putting on a massacre for the fans.
On screen, the Villain Entertainment Network was replaying an earlier fight.
A League member, Froststrike, tried to flank him.
Cipher didn’t even turn his head. He simply backhanded the man and Froststrike’s body had folded and hit the asphalt, twitching.
Cipher stepped over the bleeding heap and launched into the air to find his next target.
As a Keeper, I was a little horrified at the number of clashes and the carnage they were causing across the city. As a fan, I loved it.
The doors of the command center opened and Cipher strode in. It was clear a league stylist had gotten hold of him to fix his hair a bit, but his armor was covered in spatters of blood and scorch marks. When he spotted me, he pivoted and headed my way, tossing his mask onto a nearby console.
“What is my prisoner doing outside her rooms?” he demanded, leaning down and caging me against the command chair.
All I could think about was the pressure of his thighs pressing against mine as I forced a long sigh past my lips.
“You are genuinely terrible at keeping prisoners,” I told him, keeping my tone flat. “If you wanted me locked up, the door would have been secured. You didn’t want me in that room.”
Cipher tilted his head. “Is that right?”
“Yes. You wanted me to walk down here.” I shoved a hand against his chest, though he didn’t budge. “You wanted me sitting right here in the command center, watching you destroy half the League’s roster, without you actually having to order me to do it, because you’re an attention whore, Cipher.”
A low, dark chuckle rumbled in his chest. He gripped my chin and tilted my face up to him.
“I prefer the term ‘exhibitionist,’ Sparks,” he murmured, leaning down until his mouth hovered inches from mine. “And you wanted to watch every second of it. Tell me you didn’t get off on watching me break them.”
I stared up into those luminous eyes and instead of responding, I decided to give him a taste of his own medicine. I leaned forward, closing the space between us until my lips brushed the hard line of his jaw.
“I’d rather you break me,” I whispered.
A muscle feathered in his cheek and his hand tightened on my jaw.
“I plan to,” he murmured, his voice a low rasp that sent a shiver through me.
“Just as soon as I finish my last appointment for the evening. Some Alliance asshole. I’m going to destroy him, smile for the cameras, and then I’m coming back here and taking my time with you, Annie. ”
“Sir,” a henchman called out. “Incoming transmission. It’s from Havoc.”
Cipher didn’t look away from me. “Put it through to my secure line.”
“It’s not for you, sir,” the henchman corrected, shifting his weight. “It’s for Ms. Bishop.”
Cipher’s eyes narrowed, darkening to gunmetal as he arched a brow. “Does Havoc know you’re here?”
Heat rushed to my face, my cheeks burning, as I squirmed against the chair. “He could probably guess where I’d gone.”
Cipher’s grip on my chin shifted, his thumb tracing my lower lip. “Guess? Or know?”
“He knows we’re sleeping together,” I admitted sheepishly. I quickly pivoted to avoid the smug, territorial gleam that immediately flared in his eyes. “He’s probably just checking on me. He was there when I got the hands after all.”
Cipher seemed pleased by that information. “Route it to her console, Seven.”
“Yes, sir.”
I glanced down at the screen as the message came through.
“Annie, the Moonstone collection needs inventory. Bring the ledger when you return.”
I tensed. To anyone else, it would sound like mundane business correspondence. But Moonstone was our code for immediate danger, and “ledger” meant I needed to return to the Tower immediately.
“What is it?” Cipher leaned in to read the message.
“I have to go. Now. Havoc needs my coordinates immediately, and I’m to return to the Tower right away.”
Cipher’s gaze sharpened. “What’s happened?”
“I don’t know, but with this particular code, something’s wrong. I need my phone to let Havoc know I’m on my way.” I stood and held out my hand, knowing he’d filched my phone earlier when I couldn’t find it anywhere.
Cipher didn’t make any move to give it back. “I didn’t say you were released, Bishop.”
“Cipher, if I don’t respond and head back, the Alliance will be notified and go on high alert. And Havoc knows I’m with you.”
I could see him weighing the urge to keep me locked here against the strategic nightmare of an Alliance raid scouring the city for me with him as their target.
“Please,” I said softly.
He exhaled, a harsh, frustrated sound. He reached into his suit and handed me my phone. “Fine,” he finally said. “You’re free to go.”
I nodded. “Thank you.” I quickly typed my response to Havoc.
With Cipher. League business. Headed back now.
Cipher leaned over one of the consoles, his shoulders rigid under his suit, scowling at the data streams like he intended to murder the numbers.
I should have just walked out. The code was urgent, and our arrangement was supposed to be transactional, sex and survival, that was it, but I stepped up beside him. He didn’t look at me, refusing to acknowledge my departure.
I ignored the warning bells in my head reminding me that we didn’t kiss one another goodbye as I reached out and cupped his jaw. His skin was warm, the muscle beneath tight. I turned his face to mine and pressed my lips to his, soft and slow.
“Bye,” I breathed, and then I was running, the weight of his gaze on my back with every step. My lips still tingled from the kiss, and despite the uncertainty I felt, I couldn’t bring myself to regret it.
I hurried through the main doors of the Tower, nodding at the security staff as I passed.
My mind raced with possibilities, each more alarming than the last. The Moonstone protocol was reserved for the most serious situations—threats to the Alliance, city-wide emergencies, or personal danger to Havoc himself.
“Ms. Bishop,” Simmons greeted me as I stepped off the elevator. He seemed strained around the edges which in itself was alarming. Nothing rattled Simmons. “Mr. Havoc is waiting for you in his office.”
“What’s happening, Simmons?” I asked, keeping my voice low. “Why the Moonstone protocol?”
Simmons glanced down the hallway before leaning closer. “A Council member arrived unannounced thirty minutes ago. They’re waiting with Mr. Havoc now.”
Fear curled through my veins. “The Council? Here?”
“Indeed, Miss. I thought you should be prepared before entering.”
The Council never showed themselves. Never. They operated through proxies and encrypted messages.
“Thank you,” I managed, my mouth dry.
I took a deep breath, steadying myself against the wall for a moment. The Council. Just the thought made my skin crawl.
Most people in the Super community believed the Council was just a myth, a boogeyman story told to keep ambitious Heroes and Villains in line. An all powerful shadowy group that supposedly controlled everything from behind the scenes? It sounded like conspiracy theory nonsense.
But I knew better. A select few of us did, the unfortunate souls who’d experienced catastrophic horror at the hands of Supers. We were the ones who learned the Council wasn’t just real, but terrifyingly powerful.
Twelve members, six former Heroes, six former Villains, all supposedly “retired” from public life.
They maintained the delicate balance between the Alliance and the League, ensuring that the spectacle of Heroes and Villains remained just that, a spectacle controlled and contained.
They were the true power behind both organizations, operating in complete secrecy.
I’d only encountered a Council member once before, when I was thirteen, three years after Havoc had taken me in. The meeting had lasted less than five minutes, but I still had nightmares about that featureless mask they wore. They’d come to evaluate me, to determine if I was a threat.
I never knew what conclusion they reached.
What I did know was that the Council didn’t make house calls unless something had gone catastrophically wrong, or was about to. They dealt in existential threats to the system they’d created, stepping in only when the carefully maintained balance between Heroes and Villains was at risk of collapse.
And now one of them was here, waiting with Havoc.
Taking another steadying breath, I nodded to Simmons and headed for Havoc’s office, dread curling through me with each step.
Havoc sat behind his desk, his posture unnaturally rigid. Across from him, in one of the visitor chairs, sat a figure in a pristine charcoal suit. Where a face should have been, there was only a smooth, featureless white mask. No eyes, no mouth, just a blank canvas curved to fit a human head.
“Annie,” Havoc said. “Please join us.”
I moved to the empty chair beside the Council member, acutely aware of the blank mask turning to track my movement. Despite the lack of visible eyes, the weight of their gaze settled on me as I sat down, my spine straight, hands folded in my lap.