Of course a supervillain would choosehereto set up his base. It was absolutely riddled with crime. No one would even blink at the amount of leather he walked around in. Not to mention the strongdon’t ask, don’t tellphilosophy the inhabitants of our block held close.
I found him a week after I began my physical search.
There was a hole-in-the-wall dive bar around the corner from my apartment building. It looked like the kind of place a supervillain might frequent, so I staked it out for a while. There was a guy who caught my attention; he looked so familiar—his walk, his build, his height—but I didn’t think it could behimbecause the hair wasn’t right.
Apparently,Hannah Montanataught me nothing because it was him.
I saw him use his powers up close and personal on a mugger at the end of week one. Using them turned his hair blond, which I thought was really cool. And while I should have been freaked out that he murdered someone right in front of my face, I wasn’t. I read way too much dark romance.
Morally grey was my favourite colour.
I’d been lurking outside Crossroads for the last three weeks, working up the nerve to approach. He came every night—black hair falling in his face to cover his very distinct ice-blue eyes. He seemed polite—always tipped well, kicked out the overly drunk for the women tending the bar. He was also way too good at pool.
Maybe he would enjoy meeting Scarlett.
Or maybe he would freeze all my organs from the inside out for daring to go near him.
There was a fifty-fifty chance either way.
No one seemed to know who he was. Yet they still showed a level of fear and/or respect I didn’t expect to see. We had five supervillains and one regular villain running around in our shithole of a district. That wasn’t even accounting for the other fourteen running amuck in the rest of the city and the thirty in the surrounding area. A normal dude who beat up drunk assholes in a dive bar wasn’t someone that warranted that kind of reaction.
Still, I didn’t think they knew who he was. They weren’t trembling with fear as one would expect when in the presence of evil. (Not that I thought he was evil.)
It was midnight. I was standing just inside the mouth of the alleyway across from the bar. I’d been staring at the red metal door for an hour, fiddling with my nails, chewing on the strings of my sweater, and trying not to pace. The music was so loud I could feel it—even through the closed door, it filled every inch of open air, changing the beat of my heart.
A part of me wanted to dance, the rest of me was screamingabsolutely not. This was not the time or the place to be drawing attention to myself. While the alleyway was dark, there were enough streetlights lining the road that moving from this spot could prove deadly. Especially with all the hazards I could barely see behind me—broken bottles, trash bags surrounding four large dumpsters, empty cardboard boxes littering the ground.Instead, I adjusted the headband that warmed my ears and kept my hair from falling into my face. I leaned on the wall beside me and sunk my hands into the pockets of my leather jacket. It was a cool night even though it was only mid-September, but I was fine with it. I’d never done well in the heat; I thrived in the cold.
I wished Avalanche would hurry up already. He’d gone after a high-powered—more than likely corrupt—judge and had barely gotten away. This was his favourite place to come after a fight. Especially after a loss.
I was pretty sure I could talk to him tonight.
I’d walk in, order a drink—or three—say his name quietly, ask if I could pull him aside, tell him about Scarlett, see if he’d come by the hospital on 49th. Maybe saying his name was a dumb idea. Maybe everything was a dumb idea. It?—
My back hit the wall to my right, a hand wrapped around my throat.
“Who are you?” a deep male voice rumbled in my eardrums. Smooth, sexy, low.
“Violet,” I choked out.
Yes Violet, let’s tell the scary man trying to choke you to death your real name. That wasn’t dumb at all.
“Why are you following me, Violet?” Did I imagine it or did his voice soften when he said my name?
“I work for Heroes for Sick Kids.”
“What?” His grip loosened but his body stayed pressed against mine. He was warm—weird for a guy whose entire niche was freezing things. Unless I was being assaulted by a different patron of Crossroads. I couldn’t see his face.
“I work for Heroes for Sick Kids.” I took a deep breath now that my airway was clear. Along with oxygen, I ended up inhaling him. Shit, just my luck to be accosted by someone who smelled like coming home. The scent of whisky, ice, and cinnamon made me want to lean in closer before I got controlof myself. “I’m looking for Avalanche. One of the kids wanted to meet him.”
“You’re joking.” My assailant stepped back.
Oh, fuck.
He was gorgeous.
And definitely Avalanche.
He leaned back against the opposite wall from me with an amused look on his perfect face and crossed his arms.
