Page 73 of Villainous Rise

And yet I still wanted him with an intensity that terrified me. Still thought about him every night before I fell asleep.

I could lie to Dawn. Tell her to run far and fast from the complications of loving a Super. It would be the safe answer. The responsible answer.

But Dawn deserved better than my lies.

“I’d stay,” I said quietly. “I’d be angry and hurt and probably make him grovel for approximately six months.” I met her eyes. “But I’d stay. Because when you find someone who sees all of you, the good, the bad, the messy parts you try to hide, and loves you anyway? That’s rare.”

I swallowed hard. “And maybe worth fighting for, even when it’s complicated.”

Dawn’s eyes searched mine. “Is it okay that I’m mad, though? At least a little bit?”

“Absolutely.” I squeezed her hand. “In fact, I’d be concerned if you weren’t mad. Anger is the appropriate response to finding out your boyfriend moonlights as a Villain who occasionally throws cars at people.”

She snorted, a tiny laugh escaping through her tears. “He said it was only parked cars. Never occupied ones.”

“Oh well, that changes everything,” I deadpanned. “Clearly he’s a humanitarian.”

Dawn’s laugh faded into a more comfortable silence. I glanced at the time. Crap. I was going to be late for my morning meeting with Havoc.

“Give me a second,” I murmured, pulling out my phone and typing quickly.

Going to be late. Helping Dawn with a situation. Update you when I can.

The response came almost immediately.

Dad

Take your time.

Dawn and I talked for another twenty minutes, Dawn cycling through anger, hurt, confusion, and back to something resembling hope. I listened, offered tissues, and refrained from sharing my own complicated history with League members who keep secrets. This wasn’t about me and my disaster of a love life.

When I finally emerged from the bathroom, Cipher had disappeared and Hunter sat exactly where I’d left him, looking like he’d aged ten years.

I gave him a small smile as I passed. “She’s coming out.”

The relief that washed over his face was almost painful to witness.

Behind me, I heard the bathroom door open. Dawn’s hesitant footsteps. Hunter’s sharp intake of breath.

I kept walking, resisting the urge to turn around. Some conversations needed to happen without an audience.

I pulled the bedroom door shut behind me. My job here was done, Dawn and Hunter were talking, which was a good sign. Or at least better than Dawn barricading herself in the bathroom.

Now I just had to navigate my way out of Cipher’s penthouse without spontaneously combusting from awkwardness. Simple enough. I could handle one half-dressed Villain and the memory of almost drunkenly sleeping with him.

When I reached the living room, Cipher was pacing. He’d changed. No more sleep-rumpled hair or bare chest. Now he wore a crisp button-down shirt, top two buttons undone just enough to reveal the edge of a tattoo I’d once traced with my mouth. Black dress pants completed the look.

He turned when he heard me, and something in his expression made my stomach flip.

“How is she?” His voice was low, concerned.

“Talking to him now. Which is progress from crying in the bathroom.”

Cipher nodded, taking a step closer.

“I’m sorry for just showing up like this,” I blurted. “Dawn called, and Hunter texted, and I didn’t think—I mean, I didn’t expect—“ I gestured vaguely at him, at the penthouse, at the whole situation.

“Don’t apologize.” His eyes never left mine.