Page 51 of Villainous Rise

A compliment twice in one conversation. A new record.

“Fine,” I sighed. “I’ll add ‘contact impossible tech advisor’ to my to-do list, right after ‘make Valor seem likable on camera.’”

Havoc chuckled. “That’s my Keeper.”

Back in my office, I spent twenty minutes crafting my message to Wraith, trying to strike the perfect balance between professional urgency and not sounding desperate. After triple-checking for typos, because apparently that’s what my anxiety latches onto when people are literally dying, I hit send.

The message disappeared into the digital void. No confirmation, no receipt, nothing to indicate it had reached its destination. Just gone, like it had never existed.

I leaned back in my chair, rubbing my eyes. Twenty-three deaths. The number kept echoing in my head, each repetition making my chest tighter. I wasn’t responsible for solving this, that was both Havoc’s and the Aegis’s job, but the weight of it pressed down on me anyway.

I pulled out my desk drawer and glanced at the purple rose.

I picked it up and twirled it between my fingers, my thoughts drifting to Cipher. Havoc wasn’t exactly wrong about my ability to handle megalomaniacs. I had extensive experience with the tech genius variety. Up close and extremely personal experience.

For a fleeting moment, I considered reaching out to Cipher instead. He could probably solve this mystery in half the time with a quarter of the effort. He’d certainly be easier to get ahold of.

But no. Bad idea. Catastrophically bad.

Cipher would absolutely use whatever information he gathered against the Aegis somehow. He’d never knowingly help the Alliance, let alone the shadowy council that governed it. His hatred for authority ran bone-deep, and his moral compass pointed firmly in the direction of “whatever benefits Cipher.”

I set the rose down with a sigh. Wraith it was, then. Another difficult genius to manage, another mountain to climb.

At least this one hadn’t seen me naked.

I clicked on my inbox, desperate for distraction. The urgent email from Alliance PR still sat there.

7:00 PM - Dinner Date with Valor - Elysium Restaurant (Heroes En Vogue Magazine Interview)

I groaned. Right. The interview. With Valor. Tonight.

As my eyes scanned the email for details, my stomach dropped.

Romantic candlelit dinner. Exclusive interview opportunity. Discussing your blossoming relationship.

I stared at those words until they blurred. Blossoming relationship. With Valor.

My phone buzzed.

Tech Support

Free tonight? I have an idea that doesn’t involve breaking and entering. Mostly.

I stared at the text, reading it three times to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating. Was he asking me out?

I should ignore him. That would be the sensible thing to do. The Annie Bishop who had her life together would delete the message and go back to preparing for tonight’s interview.

But apparently that Annie was on vacation, because my fingers started typing.

Did you cancel your match last night to bring me dinner?

His response came almost immediately.

That wasn’t an answer to my question.

And that wasn’t an answer to mine. Did you cancel a professional obligation just to make sure I ate?

Three dots appeared, disappeared, then reappeared.