Page 13 of Villainous Rise

The clock on my desk glared accusingly at me: 8:14 PM and I still had to do work for the Nemesis match.

Two hours later and I’d been staring at the same promotional materials the entire time, my eyes skimming over everything except the one thing I couldn’t avoid forever: the promotional flyer where Cipher’s image mocked me. The promo department had given him a dramatic shadow effect that made him look like he was lurking in the darkness, waiting to ruin someone’s day. Accurate.

I realized I was grinding my teeth and I forced my jaw to relax, massaging the tight muscles of my cheek.

I ignored the flyer and tried to focus on the spreadsheets glowing on my monitor. The numbers just blurred together into meaningless gray lines and it was getting harder to breathe deeply. I needed order, something I could control. I needed a simple task that didn’t involve lying Villains, oversized egos, or the terrifying reality of my own existence.

I grabbed the magnetic paperclip dispenser on the corner of my desk and dumped the contents onto the blotter. The first time I sorted them, I categorized by size. The second time, I went by color. It was a pathetic display of avoidance, but aligning the little metal loops gave my trembling fingers a purpose. It grounded me in a reality where things had a designated place and followed predictable rules.

A knock at my door interrupted my third paperclip sorting session.

“Come in,” I called.

The door swung open, and Havoc’s distinctive footsteps entered. Heavier than most, with that slight hesitation between steps that came from decades of controlling immense power.

“You’re still here.”

“Just finishing up,” I lied. “These promotional materials needed review and I thought, why not spend my Thursday night with badly photoshopped images of Supers instead of, you know, having an actual life?”

Havoc moved closer, his shadow falling across my desk. I could feel his eyes on me, but I kept my attention firmly on the papers.

“The promotional team misspelled ‘exhibition’ as ‘exhibitionist’ on page three,” I said, pointing to the error.

“Annie.”

That was all it took for my carefully constructed composure to wobble dangerously. I finally looked up.

Havoc stood before me in casual clothes, dark jeans and a simple blue sweater that somehow made him look more intimidating than his battle gear. His hair was slightly disheveled.

“You’ve been avoiding him on paper for weeks,” he said quietly.

I swallowed hard. “I’m not avoiding anything. I’m being thorough.”

“You’re reordering your paperclips.”

“They were disorganized,” I muttered, feeling heat creep into my cheeks. “It’s a serious office supply emergency.”

“You can’t paperclip your way out of this one, Annie.”

“I’m not trying to avoid anything,” I insisted, even as my fingers betrayed me by aligning another paperclip with military precision. “In two weeks, you’ll have a match against my ex-not-quite-boyfriend.”

I took a deep breath. “There are rules and procedures in place for the match and everything will be just fine.” I nodded firmly, as if I could convince my anxiety through repetition. “Just fucking fine.”

Havoc grimaced, the expression making the scar above his left eyebrow more pronounced. That scar was older than me. He said he kept it around because it reminded him of consequences.

“I just got a call from Alliance PR,” he said, his voice carefully neutral. “In conjunction with the Aegis.”

I froze, my hand hovering over the paperclips.

“What are you about to drop on me?”

Havoc’s expression darkened. “I wanted to tell you myself before the PR director calls you. Alliance PR wants you to take over as Valor’s handler in public settings.”

“And?” I shrugged, trying to ignore the prickle of unease between my shoulder blades. “Isn’t that what I was doing anyway? Managing his schedule, babysitting his interviews, preventing him from insulting people who could destroy his career with a single scathing article?”

Havoc ran a hand over his face, the gesture so uncharacteristically weary it made my stomach drop. Without a word, he passed his tablet to me.

“Just read it yourself.”