Page 151 of Villainous Intent

I waited, arms crossed to try to hide how hard my hands were shaking, as Five pressed his finger to his ear.

“Comms are down to Cipher,” he announced after a moment. “I can’t reach him.”

“Then you’d better take me to him.” The memory of Cipher’s bloodied hands flashed through my mind, but I pushed it away.

“No.” Eight stepped forward, further blocking my path. “Our orders were explicit.”

I lifted my chin. “I wasn’t asking.”

When I moved to go around him, Eight reached for my arm. I jerked away.

“If you touch me, we’re going to have a serious problem.”

“Miss—,” Five tried again.

“I’m going to the post-match room,” I said, not giving him a chance to speak. Nothing he said would keep me from Cipher. “You’re welcome to accompany me, but you will not stop me.”

I strode forward and after a moment’s hesitation, I heard the henchmen following, their footsteps falling into reluctant sync with mine.

“Miss,” Five called after me, his voice tinged with resignation, “this is inadvisable.”

I didn’t slow down. “Noted.”

The corridor stretched ahead, leading me toward Cipher and whatever version of him I would find waiting for me. When the post-match area loomed, its access panel glowed an accusatory red. I reached for the handle anyway, giving it a futile tug before stepping back with a frustrated sigh.

Badge access only.

Eight crossed his arms over his chest, his posture radiating smug vindication without saying a word.

“Either of you have a badge?” I asked, the tremor in my voice betraying my fraying nerves.

Neither answered. Five studied the floor, while Eight maintained his statue-like stance.

Our silence was broken as the door opened. I jumped, my heart leaping into my throat as a League physician stepped out, his white coat spattered with tiny flecks of red.

Before the door could close I darted past him, slipping through the narrowing gap. Eight cursed behind me, the sound cutting off as the door sealed. Ahead, three League officials huddled near a junction, their faces pinched in annoyance. The tallest one, a woman with silver-streaked hair, spotted me and stepped forward, palm raised.

“Ma’am, everyone’s been ordered to stay out,” she said, her voice clipped.

I brushed past her. The mask hid my expression, giving me a confidence I didn’t truly feel.

“Ma’am-“

“I heard you,” I said over my shoulder, not breaking stride.

The officials exchanged glances but didn’t pursue me. Maybe they assumed my mask granted me authority, or maybe they simply didn’t want to get involved.

When I reached the recovery room door, I hesitated, my fingers hovering over the access panel. Cipher hadn’t asked me to come to him after the match. He hadn’t said anything to me at all since the tunnels. The fear that he saw me as nothing but tainted curled within me. What if he had only allowed me in his box because he’d been ordered to?

It didn’t matter. I needed to see him. If he didn’t want me, I needed to hear it from him.

I swallowed hard and pushed the door open.

The room was bathed in low blue light, casting everything in midnight shadows. The metallic tang of blood saturated the air.

Cipher stood with his back to me. Blood spattered the black material of his suit in a constellation of dark droplets. His mask dangled from his fingertips, swinging slightly with the movement of his hand. His hair was damp with sweat, clinging to the nape of his neck.

At the sound of my entrance, he turned. Without his mask, his eyes looked illuminated from within by the blue glow, pupils wide and dark. A muscle twitched in his jaw as he stared at me, his expression unreadable.