Page 35 of Villainous Rise

She studied every line and plane of my face like she was memorizing it all over again.

“I want the truth,” she said finally. “Not what you think I want to hear. Not what serves your plans. Just the fucking truth, for once.”

Her fingers clutched my mask, holding it like a talisman.

“Did you ever actually love me? Or was that just another calculation?”

The answer should have been simple, but my tongue felt leaden in my mouth. Honesty was a language I barely spoke.

“I don’t know how to love the way normal people do,” I admitted. “I want to possess you. To make sure no one else can have you. I think about you constantly. I’ve watched you for three months just to make sure you’re safe. I send you food because I can’t stand the thought of you forgetting to eat.” My voice dropped lower. “I want to fuck you until you can’t remember anyone’s name, anyone’s touch, but mine.”

I reached out and brushed away the remnants of tears I’d caused.

“I won’t apologize for wanting you. For needing you. But I am sorry for hurting you.” I swallowed hard, the words foreign on my tongue. “I’m fucking sorry, Annie.”

These weren’t calculated words designed to achieve an outcome. They weren’t part of some elaborate scheme or manipulation, though I wish they were.

They were just true.

I’d never apologized like this before. Not to anyone. Apologies were weaknesses, openings that others could exploit. They were admissions of failure, and I didn’t fail.

Except with her.

“I hurt you.” My hands shook slightly as I cupped her face. “I knew exactly how to hurt you, and I did it anyway.”

She searched my face, looking for the lie, the hidden agenda.

“I don’t know how to do this,” I admitted. “I don’t know how to be sorry without trying to control it or turn it into something that serves me.”

This vulnerability was fucking excruciating, like having my skin peeled away, exposing everything underneath to the air. I wasn’t sure I could ever do this again. Wasn’t sure I’d survive it if I tried.

“I can’t forgive you,” she finally whispered. “Not for lying about Dread. Not for knowing he was killing Wardens while you...” She shook her head. “I just can’t.”

I’d known this was coming, had calculated the probability at 97.8%. Knowing didn’t make it hurt less.

“I don’t expect forgiveness.”

“Then what do you expect?” she asked, tracing the edge of the mask in her hands.

“I expect to spend the rest of my life wanting you anyway. I expect to keep proving I’m exactly the monster you think I am, while hoping you’ll let me be yours regardless.”

The anger in her eyes fractured and she opened her mouth to say something else when the comms system chirped.

“Boss?” Number Eight’s hesitant voice came through. “Sorry to interrupt, but Havoc is demanding to speak with you. Says it’s urgent.”

Annie handed me my mask and as I took it, I let my fingers brush against hers. I wanted to toss the mask aside, to back her against the wall and kiss her until she couldn’t breathe, until she remembered exactly what we’d been to each other.

Instead, I settled the mask back over my face, feeling the familiar weight of it, the security of hiding behind Cipher the Villain again.

“Put Havoc through,” I said, not bothering to step away from Annie.

I saw the wall screen flick on in my peripheral vision, Havoc’s face appearing.

I kept my eyes fixed on Annie, watching her reaction. The slight widening of her eyes, the almost imperceptible straightening of her spine. She was relieved. She thought Havoc would be her escape route.

Not yet, Sparks.

“Return my Keeper. Now.” Havoc’s voice carried that dangerous calm I recognized from our previous encounters, the stillness before chaos erupted.