Page 98 of Villainous Rise

Outside, the announcer’s voice boomed, warming up the crowd. Their cheers were a rhythm building like a heartbeat.

I flexed my hands, feeling power course through me. I was ready. More than ready.

I had exactly twenty-seven minutes and forty-three seconds until the match began. I didn’t need the countdown clock mounted on the wall to tell me that. My internal timing was dialed in to this moment. One of the perks of having a brain that never shut the fuck up, even when you desperately wanted it to.

I paced the length of the prep room, my footsteps silent despite the metal floor. There was a hollowness that shouldn’t exist on what should be the crowning moment of my career.

Annie.

It had been two days since I’d dropped her off at the Tower. Two days, thirteen hours, and approximately twenty-six minutes, but who’s counting?

I hadn’t messaged her. I wanted to, but didn’t. Annie was a fucking paradox wrapped in contradictions. Push too hard, and she’d retreat. Don’t push at all, and she’d assume she wasn’t allowed to reach out. The woman genuinely believed she wasn’t entitled to take up space in other people’s lives. Even mine, after everything.

“Fuck,” I muttered, running a hand through my hair.

I needed to focus on the match. This was my moment. Havoc and I would put on the show of a lifetime, cementing my status as a top-tier Super Villain. The crowd was already electric, their energy vibrating through the walls.

But my mind kept circling back to her absence.

Twenty-two minutes remaining. Still no Annie.

Traditionally, the Hero’s Keeper delivered a pre-match message to the Villain. Some formal bullshit about honor and fair play or something like that. It was a ritual as old as the Nemesis system itself. Not that I gave a damn about tradition, but I’d been looking forward to seeing her.

Maybe Havoc sent someone else. Maybe Annie requested not to come. Maybe she was standing outside right now, overthinking whether she should knock.

I slid my mask on, feeling the familiar click as the systems initialized and the HUD lit up before my eyes. Data about the arena specs, atmospheric conditions, and power readings scrolled across my vision. Everything was perfect.

Eighteen minutes now.

I flexed my hands, thinking of how they’d looked against her skin. How they’d look later tonight, possibly bruised from fighting her adoptive father, the man I’d idolized as a child.

Life was fucking weird sometimes.

The fifteen-minute warning buzzed. Today I achieved everything I’d ever wanted professionally, yet all I could think about was Annie.

A knock at the door interrupted my thoughts. Probably some junior Keeper they’d sent in Annie’s place. Some faceless nobody delivering a message meant for her to bring.

“Enter,” I called, already mentally preparing the appropriate level of disdain.

The door swung open.

Annie.

I forced myself to remain still, to not cross the room and pull her against me, to not bury my face in her neck and breathe her in.

She wore her Keeper attire, the navy blazer and skirt, hair in that severe twist she thought made her look professional instead of just highlighting the delicate curve of her neck. She looked exhausted. Beautiful, but exhausted.

“I’m sorry to disturb you,” she said.

“You’re not disturbing me.” I kept my voice level despite the riot happening in my chest.

“I’m here to deliver Havoc’s official pre-match message.” Her voice took on that formal tone she used when hiding behind rules. “He wishes you luck tonight and hopes this will be the first of many battles between you.”

The formality of it, this ancient tradition between Nemeses, struck me as both ridiculous and profound. Here we were, playing our parts in this elaborate dance, while beneath it all...

“Please return the message,” I said. “Tell Havoc I look forward to demonstrating exactly why the League and Alliance approved our Nemesis status.”

She nodded but didn’t move. Just stood there, like she was trying to decide something. Her fingers twisted together.