Page 57 of Villainous Intent

What the fuck was the Alliance hiding about her? Even high-ranking Heroes didn’t have this level of information security. The black redaction bars mocked me from the screen, like a fucking censored porn video where all the good parts were hidden.

That couldn’t be right. Everyone left digital footprints. School records. Medical history. Utility bills. Fucking library cards. But Annie Bishop might as well have materialized fully formed as Havoc’s Keeper.

This was fucking bullshit.

My chest tightened and the old panic flared. The child in the hospital bed, unable to predict when the next needle was coming. Not knowing when the next test, the next drug was going to be administered. Not knowing when his parents were going to get tired of him and ship him back to the hospital.

I needed to know. I needed to dissect her history until I understood every scar.

I got rid of the holographic interface, watching the files vanish into nothingness. My jaw ached from clenching it too hard.

This was supposed to be simple. Get the files, learn her secrets, gain leverage. Instead, I’d hit a wall of black bars that might as well have been middle fingers pointed directly at me.

A notification flashed across my screen. The Syndicate’s logo pulsing an urgent red that instantly triggered a migraine. Fucking great. Exactly what I needed to complete this stellar morning.

I swiped the notification open. It was a fucking rematch request from Baron Ash. It wasn’t exactly unexpected after our run-in at the Opener, but I wasn’t in the fucking mood to think about him.

I drummed my fingers against the workbench. Ash was a sadistic fuck who clearly wanted revenge for our last match while the cameras were on. He hated that I “relied” on technology. The idiot didn’t realize the suit he despised was for his benefit.

It wasn’t even armor; it was a cage. Its dampeners strangled my real output, forcing me to play at the level of a serum-based Super just to stay hidden. If I ever took the kid gloves off, if I let the cameras see what I really was, Ash wouldn’t survive the first round.

Fuck him.

I typed a single word: Accepted.

I hit send. The violence of the keystroke felt good but it didn’t solve the real problem.

Annie.

I moved to my main desk where I’d placed the knife she had used on me at dinner. The blade caught the light as I picked it up.

Annie was an unknown variable. That was a fact, not a crisis.

I ran my thumb along the flat of the blade, pressing until the skin turned white. Most women trembled in my presence. Annie had looked at the monster and decided to bite back.

I wanted her defiance as much as I wanted her submission. I wanted to feel that sharp, dangerous edge of hers pressed against my throat, just so I could show her how little it mattered.

But if I went to her now, full force, I’d scare her off. I’d shatter the game before it began. I had to be a scalpel, not a sledgehammer.

Slowly, I reminded myself. Break her defenses slowly.

I began tossing the knife from hand to hand. Catch. Flip. Catch.

I needed to fix the mess I’d made with her last night. The variables were fucked up, but the objective was clear. I needed access to Annie to get her secrets. I couldn’t get access if she hated me.

I ran the scenarios. I could apologize but that was unfamiliar territory for me and the success rate uncertain.

I could seduce her⁠—

My hand froze. The blade pressed against my palm, biting into the skin.

The solution was so obvious.

Sex.

She was a creature of rules and repression. I saw it in the way she stood, the way she held her breath. She was a dam waiting to burst.

I’d give her the release she was too scared to ask for, and I’d make her addicted to it. Once I had her hooked on the sensation, the secrets would follow. She’d give me everything just to keep the high.