Page 23 of Villainous Rise

At least thanks to Dawn’s social butterfly routine at the Nexus, the bandage had been ripped clean off and I was finally confronted with everything I’d been avoiding. The hatred, the rage, the complete fucking devastation I’d caused.

And somehow, that was better than nothing at all. Better than being a ghost in her life, watching through cameras. At least hatred required engagement.

The server arrived with my drink, and I took it without looking away from the floor below. At least last night had proved to me that I couldn’t go back to only watching her on screens. Not when I could watch her hate me in person instead.

A ripple moved through the crowd below, drawing my attention. Havoc had arrived, resplendent in his signature white, blue and gold. The man knew how to make an entrance. Always had, even back when he’d been on my side of the moral fence.

I straightened, instinctively adjusting my posture, something competitive stirring in my chest. My Nemesis. My fucking idol, though I’d rather have my fingernails pulled out than admit that aloud to him.

And where Havoc went...

I frowned. Annie wasn’t behind Havoc, tablet in hand, making sure everything ran like clockwork. Instead, some blond pretty boy trailed in Havoc’s wake. One of his new protégés. Helios? Was that it? Fuck, it didn’t matter.

My eyes scanned the crowd for Annie’s Keeper uniform, that crisp, professional armor she wore to these events. Nothing. Surely she hadn’t skipped the event.

Then I saw her.

In place of her uniform was a deep crimson evening gown that clung to the swell of her hips and the dip of her waist like a second skin. The rich, violent color made her bare shoulders glow under the chandelier light. She had swept her hair up into a soft twist, exposing the long, delicate line of her neck and the hollow of her throat.

Her lips were painted the exact same shade of blood-red as her dress. I wanted to cross the ballroom and smudge that pristine lipstick with my mouth and fingers. I wanted to bite her bottom lip and drag that crimson stain down her neck. I wanted her mouth on me, smearing it all over my own skin.

The light from the chandelier caught her eyes and it hurt to fucking breathe. That specific shade of blue had become my favorite color in the entire world. Those eyes were the part of her I loved more than anything else even though they haunted me—shifting in my thoughts from the hazy, blown-out look she gave me when I had her pinned beneath me in bed to the shattered, hollow stare she’d leveled at me right before I walked away from her.

She was the most devastatingly beautiful thing I had ever witnessed and my grip tightened on my glass as something possessive surged through me. This was Annie, not Keeper Bishop.

My Annie.

Except she wasn’t looking at me. She wasn’t even looking at Havoc.

She turned, glancing up at the man beside her with a smile I couldn’t read from this distance. Tall, fair-haired, with the unmistakable bearing of a Hero. Havoc’s other protégé—what the fuck was his name?

As I watched, he slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her closer to his side. She didn’t pull away.

My brain just stopped. Fucking. Working.

The glass in my hand cracked, sending a thin line of whiskey down my wrist but I barely noticed.

What the fuck was I seeing? Annie was letting him touch her? Smiling up at him like⁠—

No. There had to be an explanation. Annie wouldn’t -

But she was. Right there in front of me, leaning into the touch of another man.

Valor.

The name hit me, a fucking neon sign flashing in my brain. Valor, whose face had been plastered across every billboard in Chroma Bay since his mentorship announcement. Valor, whose hand was resting on the small of Annie’s back as they moved through the crowd toward Havoc and Helios.

I watched them glide across the ballroom floor, her red dress a splash of blood against the sea of black tuxedos and pastel gowns.

Valor leaned down, whispering something that made her cheeks flush pink.

My vision narrowed to a pinpoint, the rest of the room fading to static. In that moment, I could envision with perfect clarity exactly how I’d kill him. Slowly. Starting with those perfectly manicured hands that dared touch what wasn’t his. I’d crush each finger individually, let him feel every bone splinter before moving to the next. Then his wrists. His arms. Work my way up methodically until that perfect face was nothing but pulp.

The fantasy was so vivid I could almost feel the wet crunch beneath my hands.

What the actual fuck was happening? Annie didn’t date Supers.

I’d been watching her for months. There had been no indication, fucking none, that she was seeing anyone, let alone this preening jackass. If anything, she’d looked annoyed whenever they’d interacted, maintained rigid professional distance.