Page 213 of Villainous Rise

Watch him burn, the voice whispered. See how willingly he gives himself to your flames. It feels so good to consume him.

It did feel good. The power surged and a wave of euphoria washed over me. The fire wanted to devour Cipher and part of me reveled in the heat of his destruction.

I hated myself. I screamed at Cipher to run. I begged him to leave me behind and save himself.

He just smiled, his face charring to ash as he leaned closer to my ear.

“I would sacrifice everything,” he whispered. His lips crumbled into glowing embers as he spoke.

I jolted hard, my teeth clicking together as reality snapped back into place. My lungs heaved, dragging in air that smelled of sterile hospital antiseptic and damp potting soil rather than ash and burning flesh.

“Hey, you’re okay. I’ve got you,” Dawn soothed.

I blinked rapidly, the blinding gold of my nightmare fading to the muted gray afternoon light of the hospital’s visitor garden. My cheek was pressed against the soft fabric of Dawn’s cardigan, and a terrible ache throbbed at the base of my neck from sleeping sitting up on a rigid metal bench.

Heat flooded my cheeks as I scrambled backward, wiping at my mouth to make sure I hadn’t drooled on her. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to pass out on you like that.”

“Don’t apologize,” Dawn said gently, giving me a small, sympathetic smile. “You haven’t slept in at least two days, Annie. Probably closer to three. Your body finally just shut down.”

I looked at my watch and my stomach dropped. I had been asleep for forty-five minutes.

Panic flooded through me, hot and fast. Cipher. I needed to get back to Cipher. “I’ve been gone too long. I need to get back to him. I told him I was just stepping out to get some air and grab the stuff you brought.”

Dawn caught my wrists. “Annie, breathe. He told you to see me and get some fresh air. He’s perfectly fine.”

No he wasn’t. Everyone kept saying he was fine, but how could he be fine after what happened?

She pulled me into a tight hug and I melted into it for just a second, letting her warmth push the lingering chill of Halcyon’s voice out of my bones.

“Go back up to your Villain,” Dawn murmured, squeezing me once more before pulling back. “I’m going to head up and check on Simmons before I leave.”

A pang of guilt hit me. I had been so hyper-focused on Cipher that I hadn’t even checked on Simmons today. He’d taken a brutal hit during Helios’s attack. The doctors said he had three broken ribs, a fractured collarbone, and enough deep-tissue bruising to keep him bedridden for a week. But true to form, he had politely threatened the nursing staff when they tried to give him the good painkillers, claiming they clouded his judgment. He was going to be fine. It took a lot more than a mind-controlled Hero to keep Simmons down.

“Tell him I’ll come see him tonight,” I said.

“I will.”

Dawn handed me my coffee, then carefully gave me the small white bakery box containing a piece of lemon cake before I hurried back inside.

I pushed the elevator button, watching the numbers count down to the hospital’s main level.

He’s perfectly fine.

Those words kept repeating in my head and I hated how when anyone said that, I just nodded along like I believed them. I should have told Dawn the truth. That I was terrified. I should have told her how I’d been unconscious when they’d rushed him into surgery. How I’d woken to find him pale as the sheets he lay on, tubes and wires connecting him to machines that beeped steadily.

The elevator doors opened, and I stepped into the quiet corridor of the private wing. I slowed as I reached his door, balancing the coffee and cake box carefully as I pushed it open with my hip. The soft glow of a holographic display illuminated his face in the dimly lit room.

“Cipher!” I hissed, stepping inside to find him propped up against the pillows, his left arm extended as the implant there projected information into the air above his bed. “You’re supposed to be resting.”

He looked up, his silver eyes widening slightly before his mouth curved into that infuriating smirk.

“I am resting,” he countered, not even having the decency to look guilty. “I’m lying down.”

I set the coffee and cake on the bedside table. “The doctor said no work. Specifically no implants. Nothing that could strain your system while you’re recovering.”

“It’s just a few calculations,” he said. “Besides, I’m going mad just lying here.”

“You nearly died.”