Page 180 of Villainous Intent

“Sir,” a henchman called out. “Incoming transmission. It’s from Havoc.”

Cipher didn’t look away from me. “Put it through to my secure line.”

“It’s not for you, sir,” the henchman corrected, shifting his weight. “It’s for Ms. Bishop.”

Cipher’s eyes narrowed, darkening to gunmetal as he arched a brow. “Does Havoc know you’re here?”

Heat rushed to my face, my cheeks burning, as I squirmed against the chair. “He could probably guess where I’d gone.”

Cipher’s grip on my chin shifted, his thumb tracing my lower lip. “Guess? Or know?”

“He knows we’re sleeping together,” I admitted sheepishly. I quickly pivoted to avoid the smug, territorial gleam that immediately flared in his eyes. “He’s probably just checking on me. He was there when I got the hands after all.”

Cipher seemed pleased by that information. “Route it to her console, Seven.”

“Yes, sir.”

I glanced down at the screen as the message came through.

“Annie, the Moonstone collection needs inventory. Bring the ledger when you return.”

I tensed. To anyone else, it would sound like mundane business correspondence. But Moonstone was our code for immediate danger, and “ledger” meant I needed to return to the Tower immediately.

“What is it?” Cipher leaned in to read the message.

“I have to go. Now. Havoc needs my coordinates immediately, and I’m to return to the Tower right away.”

Cipher’s gaze sharpened. “What’s happened?”

“I don’t know, but with this particular code, something’s wrong. I need my phone to let Havoc know I’m on my way.” I stood and held out my hand, knowing he’d filched my phone earlier when I couldn’t find it anywhere.

Cipher didn’t make any move to give it back. “I didn’t say you were released, Bishop.”

“Cipher, if I don’t respond and head back, the Alliance will be notified and go on high alert. And Havoc knows I’m with you.”

I could see him weighing the urge to keep me locked here against the strategic nightmare of an Alliance raid scouring the city for me with him as their target.

“Please,” I said softly.

He exhaled, a harsh, frustrated sound. He reached into his suit and handed me my phone. “Fine,” he finally said. “You’re free to go.”

I nodded. “Thank you.” I quickly typed my response to Havoc.

With Cipher. League business. Headed back now.

Cipher leaned over one of the consoles, his shoulders rigid under his suit, scowling at the data streams like he intended to murder the numbers.

I should have just walked out. The code was urgent, and our arrangement was supposed to be transactional, sex and survival, that was it, but I stepped up beside him. He didn’t look at me, refusing to acknowledge my departure.

I ignored the warning bells in my head reminding me that we didn’t kiss one another goodbye as I reached out and cupped his jaw. His skin was warm, the muscle beneath tight. I turned his face to mine and pressed my lips to his, soft and slow.

“Bye,” I breathed, and then I was running, the weight of his gaze on my back with every step. My lips still tingled from the kiss, and despite the uncertainty I felt, I couldn’t bring myself to regret it.

I hurried through the main doors of the Tower, nodding at the security staff as I passed. My mind raced with possibilities, each more alarming than the last. The Moonstone protocol was reserved for the most serious situations—threats to the Alliance, city-wide emergencies, or personal danger to Havoc himself.

“Ms. Bishop,” Simmons greeted me as I stepped off the elevator. He seemed strained around the edges which in itself was alarming. Nothing rattled Simmons. “Mr. Havoc is waiting for you in his office.”

“What’s happening, Simmons?” I asked, keeping my voice low. “Why the Moonstone protocol?”