Page 190 of Villainous Intent

Dread’s lips curved into that terrible smile again, his red eyes gleaming with delight. “The same place I got the identity of the other Warden,” he said, circling me slowly. “Did you think you were special? That you’d somehow escape notice when the others couldn’t?”

I backed away, keeping him in my line of sight. “That’s not an answer. Those records were destroyed years ago.”

“Not destroyed,” Dread corrected. “Just hidden. Hidden well, I’ll admit. It took considerable resources to find them. Resources I didn’t personally have, but it helps to have the right allies.”

“Why tell me any of this?” I asked, wincing as I shifted my weight. “Why not kill me and be done with it? Not that I’m complaining about the delay, but Villains usually save the monologuing for the cameras.”

Dread’s smile widened, revealing teeth that seemed unnaturally white against the darkness surrounding us. The shadows at his feet pulsed in a hypnotic rhythm.

He inhaled sharply, the sound rattling in his chest. “I can taste it. Tart. Sharp.” He stepped closer, the shadows lapping at my ankles like cold tongues. “Information feeds the panic. It makes the fear ripen. I’m not in any hurry to kill you, Warden. Why rush what should be savored? I want to draw this out. Do something no one else has managed to do.”

“Which is?” I asked, hating how my voice trembled.

He reached out, his gloved hand hovering inches from my face, close enough that the cold emanating from him brushed against my skin. “Break your abilities,” he said softly. “Crack that shell of resistance until I can feast on every drop of terror your mind can produce.”

“It won’t work,” I said. “You can’t break a Warden.”

Dread only continued to smile. “You know what I find truly amusing?” he said, his voice almost conversational. “The irony of your situation.”

I kept my eyes on him, trying to gauge his next move, trying not to show the fear I knew he was searching for.

“The one who saved you is the one who ultimately killed you.” He chuckled “There’s a certain poetry to that, don’t you think?”

I furrowed my brow. “What are you talking about?”

“Cipher. He prevented you from slamming into the pavement when you fell off that building during my match,” Dread said, shaking his head. “Looking back, he could have eliminated you without lifting a finger if he’d just let you fall. And now he had to do all that work to get at the files,” Dread continued, “just to give me your name. Annie Bishop.” He savored each syllable. “The last Warden.”

The world tilted. My fingernails dug into my palms, the sharp pain the only thing keeping me upright.

“Cipher gave you my name?” I repeated.

The red glow of his eyes flared, illuminating the cruel curve of his mouth. “Yes.”

“When?” I couldn’t help the way my voice broke. “When did he tell you?”

Dread stepped closer. “An hour ago.”

An hour.

My knees hit the concrete. I didn’t feel the impact. I didn’t feel the scrape of the rough ground against my palms as I caught myself.

An hour ago.

Right after I’d ended things.

Right after he’d left me. He’d handed me over, knowing I was going to die.

A sob broke loose and it echoed off the empty buildings of the mock city.

Dread made a satisfied noise, a low hum in his throat. “There it is,” he murmured. “Betrayal. It has a distinct aftertaste. Bitter. Earthy.”

I stared at the pavement, my vision blurring. He had handed me over. He knew what Dread was. He knew what Dread did to people. And he gave him my name anyway.

“Tell me,” Dread whispered, his voice right at my ear now. “Does it hurt more than the fear?”

I closed my eyes. I had given my heart to a monster. And now the monster was done with me.

The shadows coiled around my waist. I didn’t fight them.