Page 105 of Villainous Intent

My face burned. “Glad I could be your court jester.”

I turned back to the chair, determined to sit in it just to spite him.

I didn’t hear him move. The floor just dropped out from under me and I was hauled backward, landing hard on his lap.

“This is where you sit for now,” he murmured against my ear.

I scowled harder, knowing that fighting and arguing would do nothing. Sitting stiffly in silence was probably the best way to annoy him anyway.

He turned his attention back to the screen. On it, Sentinel was getting back up, blood streaming from his nose.

After a few minutes, Cipher made a thoughtful noise. “You’re angry,” he noted, his tone mild.

“Good job reading the fucking room,” I snapped, my voice shaking. “You kidnapped me and humiliated me.”

“Are you really that pissed I didn’t let you come?”

“That’s not why I’m pissed,” I hissed, twisting in his grip so I could glare at him. “Why did you finger me while on a call with Baron Ash? Was it just a power trip? Because listening to him threaten you wasn’t exactly a turn-on.”

Cipher paused the footage.

“Ash wasn’t just threatening me, Annie,” he said, his voice devoid of its usual mockery. “He was following League rules.”

“What?” I blinked.

“Ash wants the League’s approval of his petition.” Cipher shifted and placed his hand on my hip. His thumb began rubbing a slow circle. “He’s petitioned them for the right to kill me during our match next week and he called to give me the required notice.”

I just stared at him, not sure I’d heard him correctly. “He petitioned to kill you?”

“It’s a clause in the bylaws,” Cipher said, sounding bored. “Usually, killing a fellow member during a televised match is strictly prohibited. Bad for branding. Messy paperwork. But a member can always petition for a lethal match.”

“They won’t grant it though, right?” My stomach turned over. I didn’t particularly like Cipher at the moment and I dearly wanted him to suffer. But the thought of Baron Ash killing him? It made my blood run cold. “The League protects its assets and you’re its top performer.”

Cipher let out a dark, humorless huff. “They protect their ratings, Bishop. If the Syndicate thinks a death match will pull in the highest viewership of the decade? If they think the spectacle is worth the loss of an asset? They might just let him try.” He looked back at the frozen image of violence on the screen. “Are you worried about me, Bishop?”

“No,” I said, the word leaving my mouth a little too quickly. I stared at the screen where Sentinel was still bleeding, refusing to look at the man holding me.

Cipher hummed, a low sound of amusement. “Liar.”

I stiffened, but he didn’t press the point. Instead, he reached out with his free hand and tapped a sequence on the console. The footage of the fight vanished, replaced by a complex, rotating schematic of an arena.

“If the petition is granted, then the rules of engagement shift. Reciprocity is a fundamental tenet of the League’s combat bylaws. If he is permitted to kill me, then I am permitted to kill him.”

I looked at him then. The harsh lighting of the screens cast shadows across his face, highlighting the sharp angle of his jaw and the cruel curve of his mouth. He looked utterly unbothered.

“Will you? Kill him?”

“It depends.”

“On what?”

“On how bored I am.”

A chill skittered down my spine. He was talking about murder as a cure for ennui. Before I could think of a response to his psychopathic apathy, Cipher dismissed the holographic arena with a flick of his wrist.

He tilted his head, his silver eyes catching the faint glow of the console. “Tech Support? Really?”

My cheeks flooded with heat. I had forgotten he had strip-mined my digital life when he hacked my devices and now he had my phone and could do the same.