Page 71 of Villainous Rise

I blinked. “You know my name?”

“Of course.” He gestured toward the elevator bank. “Go right ahead.”

The express elevator doors slid open with a soft chime. I stepped inside, too worried about Dawn to question my VIP treatment. The car shot upward, my stomach lurching with the speed.

When the doors opened into the penthouse, I darted in. I rounded the corner into the main living area and froze.

Cipher stood in the kitchen, coffee mug suspended halfway to his lips, looking like he’d been caught mid-motion by a pause button. His dark hair stuck out in sleep-rumpled waves around his face, and he wore nothing but low-slung pajama pants that clung to his hips.

My body reacted instantly, a flush of heat spreading throughout.

“Annie?” His voice was morning-rough, deeper than usual.

“I—” Words failed me.

The morning light caught the defined planes of his bare chest, highlighting every muscle I’d fantasized about touching last night. Not that I was noticing. Or remembering. Or wanting to trace every tattoo on his body with my tongue.

Nope.

We locked eyes in the most excruciating silence of my life. Five seconds. Ten. Fifteen.

“I didn’t—you weren’t—“ I gestured vaguely at his half-naked state, then immediately regretted drawing attention to it. “Dawn texted. Well, called. Then Hunter texted. Not that I regularly get texts from Hunter. Or come to your penthouse uninvited at—” I glanced at my watch, “—seven twenty-three in the morning.”

Great job, Bishop. Keep going.

Cipher’s eyebrow ticked up slightly.

“Dawn’s locked herself in Hunter’s bathroom,” I blurted. “He told her he’s Menace. She’s not taking the whole ‘surprise, I’m actually a Villain’ revelation well, which, honestly, who would? Not that I’m judging Hunter’s life choices. Or Dawn’s reaction. Or your hospitality arrangements for other Villains. Or⁠—“

“Annie.” Cipher’s voice cut through my rambling.

“Yes?”

“Breathe.”

I inhaled sharply, suddenly aware I’d been talking without oxygen.

Cipher carefully set his coffee mug on the counter with a soft clink. His expression shifted from surprised to focused, the sleepy confusion clearing from his eyes.

“This way,” he said, leading me up to the second floor.

Cipher’s back muscles flexed as he walked ahead of me and I kept my eyes firmly fixed on the back of his head. Mostly.

He pushed open a door at the end of a hall, revealing a spacious bedroom. Hunter—Menace—sat perched on the edge of a king-sized bed, head buried in his hands. He was the picture of absolute misery.

He looked up when we entered, hope flashing across his face when he saw me, quickly replaced by despair.

“She won’t come out,” he said, voice cracking. “She won’t even talk to me anymore.”

I’d never seen a League member look so utterly defeated by something that didn’t involve prison or superpowers. Just a broken heart and the consequences of secrets kept too long.

I approached the bathroom door, hearing muffled sniffles from inside.

“Dawn? It’s Annie. Can I come in?”

“Just you,” came Dawn’s watery voice.

I slipped inside, closing the door firmly behind me. Dawn stood by the marble sink, wrapped in a midnight blue silk robe that definitely wasn’t hers. Her copper curls were a wild tangle, eyes rimmed red, mascara creating artistic black rivers down her freckled cheeks.