Page 28 of Villainous Intent

He’d been an idol of mine when he’d been a Villain. His unexpected turn from Villain to Hero had been a blow to my villainous little heart back then, but I’d shifted my focus. If he were a Hero, then he could be my Nemesis. Everybody wins.

“Computer, search for major incidents involving Havoc nineteen to twenty years ago.”

A list populated the screen but two caught my eye. The first was the public turning point, the day Havoc saved the city and betrayed the League. The second was dated a few weeks earlier and titled: “’Redacted’ Incident.”

Fucking redacted.

I stared at the black bars. A ten-year-old girl doesn’t get a 12-A classification for nothing.

I poked at the digital lock. It was complicated and woven with traps. If I pushed too hard, it would alert the Aegis. It would take time to get through.

I sent a message to Number Five, my security expert, requesting he begin unraveling it.

I pulled up Annie’s official file again. Listed residence: The Tower, Suite 87. Lies. Dawn had called Annie her roommate.

She had a second life. A real life. One she thought was safe.

I redirected the search to Dawn Carlisle and within minutes, I had an address in the Bayside Heights district. A modest but respectable neighborhood, close enough to both the museum and the Tower for convenient commutes for both women.

It was a place where Annie could go to pretend she wasn’t surrounded by monsters.

The next part of my plan would be the easiest. Surveillance.

I settled back in my chair, a smug smile spreading across my face as the security feeds from the building across from Annie’s apartment filled my screens. The angle was perfect, better than I’d dared hope for. From the rooftop security cameras I’d hijacked, I had a clear view directly into her living room and, more importantly, her bedroom.

Her bedroom was exactly what I would have expected. It was neat and organized, with a place for everything.

There was a thrill in seeing the spaces she kept hidden, a dark satisfaction in knowing I was inside her walls while she was miles away, unaware.

I would learn everything about her, then I would map exactly where to apply pressure to make her crack. I would use every piece of stolen data, every observed habit, to strip that false veneer right off her skin until she was raw and trembling beneath my hands.

The Syndicate bastard had called her frigid. He was a blind fool who didn’t see the fire I had felt when she pressed that blade to my stomach under the table. There was nothing cold about Annie Bishop. She was a suppressed inferno locked behind Alliance rules.

My gaze drifted to the bed displayed on my monitors. My mind immediately supplied the image of what I would do to her on those sheets. I wanted to pin her down, feel the exact moment her resistance turned into desperation, and hear her voice break on my name.

I wanted to shatter that perfect composure into a thousand jagged pieces and leave her ruined, her thighs slick and trembling, yet still begging for more.

I didn’t bother fighting the possessiveness coursing through me. I would take her and find every hidden insecurity she masked behind that stiff posture and ruthlessly exploit it, pushing her to the absolute edge of her sanity until she broke and I was the only thing holding her together.

I wanted her to look at my face and see her destruction and her salvation in the exact same breath. I would become the only safe place she had left after I burned her entire structured world to the ground.

But for now, I would wait. I would watch. I would learn every fucking inch of that room before she ever set foot in it again.

CHAPTER 7

ANNIE

The door of my apartment clicked shut behind me. I needed wine.

“Dawn? You home?” I called out.

Nothing. No upbeat music filtering from the living room. No laughter. No Dawn ambushing me in the hallway to recount the latest chapter in the epic romance of her and Hunter. Their relationship had escalated from casually dating to selecting china patterns in approximately four seconds. That was definitely concerning for my hope that she’d drop him fast.

I tossed my blazer onto my bed and headed straight for the kitchen. My hands shook as I grabbed a bottle of merlot from the rack. It was a residual tremor from another twelve hours of managing Super-powered egos and presenting myself as the perfect Keeper. I fumbled the metal spiral against the foil. A botched attempt and a near-stabbing of my palm later, the cork finally popped with a hollow thud. I bypassed the standard pour, filling the glass to the absolute brim, and carried the dark liquid to my bedroom.

The wine burned on the way down as I flopped onto my mattress and stared up at the ceiling. It had been seven full days since the Aegis and the Syndicate had handed down my sentence: fake a public relationship with Cipher. Seven days of radio silence from both organizations about when we’d make our first appearance. The anticipation was slowly eating at me.

My phone burned in my pocket. I wanted to check ShadowSnap. I should definitely not check ShadowSnap.