Page 12 of Villainous Rise

My mouth went dry. “To what?”

His eyes narrowed as he studied me, the gold flickering until he sneered.

He straightened, putting space between us, and the pressure in the room dropped away.

“Wonderful.” His voice had gone flat. “You’re one of those types.”

I knew better than to engage with a bruised ego but I asked anyway, curious. “What type is that?”

“The tragically defective variety,” he snapped. “A biological dead zone immune to my influence. I’ve met several others and each time it was profoundly annoying.”

My shoulders dropped a fraction. I’d been preparing for an interrogation. I dreaded having to invent a lie to explain my resistance. But if his ego needed to categorize my immunity as something mundane, I’d gladly let him.

He smiled but it never reached his eyes.

“Do you think I don’t know who Martha Sands is?”

The question caught me off guard, but I kept my expression neutral.

“I know exactly who she is,” he continued, placing one hand on the table beside me, caging me in without touching me. “I know exactly what she writes. I know exactly how much influence she has.”

“Then you’re even stupider than I thought,” I replied.

He laughed, a sound utterly devoid of warmth. “Oh, Annie. May I call you Annie? I insulted her on purpose.”

“What?”

“The cardigan comment. The condescension. All calculated.” His emerald eyes gleamed with pure, cold intelligence. “Martha will write a scathing piece about my arrogance, Alliance PR will panic, and I’ll issue the most heartfelt public apology you’ve ever seen.”

He leaned closer, his other hand coming up to rest on the other side of me.

“The redemption narrative guarantees me next month’s cover. Valor: The Hero Learning Humility. The public eats that shit up. Personal growth sells better than perfection.”

“You engineered a PR crisis to manipulate media coverage?”

“Welcome to day one of how this actually works.” His smile was razor-sharp. “Stop treating me like I’m some idiot who needs his hand held. I’ve been planning my ascension since Havoc’s approval ratings peaked three years ago. I know exactly what I’m doing.”

I pushed against his chest, forcing space between us. “If you’re so clever, why risk alienating a key Alliance funding reporter?”

“Calculated risk,” he said, not budging. “Martha respects authenticity. My apology will feel more genuine precisely because the insult was so genuine. She’ll appreciate the honesty of my initial reaction more than any brown-nosing I could have done today.”

I snorted. “That’s the most delusional thing I’ve heard all week.”

His expression darkened. “This is why you’re a Keeper and not a Hero. You see the rules, but you don’t see the game.” The pressure in the room intensified. “I don’t need some glorified secretary managing my conversations. You’re here to make me look good, not to think for me.”

“I’m here to make sure you don’t torpedo your career,” I snapped back.

“My career was never in danger.” He finally stepped back, the golden ring around his irises flashing a final time before dulling. “Know your place in the hierarchy, Annie. Don’t mistake yourself for someone who matters in our world.”

He turned and swept toward the door.

“When you speak to Havoc,” he called over his shoulder, “tell him I expect a more suitable Keeper next time. One who understands how the world actually works.”

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving me alone with the lingering scent of his cologne and a nagging unease.

What exactly had Havoc seen in him?

I spent the rest of the afternoon drowning in damage control emails, crafting apologies to Martha that didn’t explicitly admit Valor was an ass, and scheduling the interview I’d promised. By the time I finally came up for air, the Tower had emptied, and darkness had fallen over the city.