Page 153 of Villainous Rise

A small pulse of chaos energy, barely visible as a dark blue ripple, shorted out the camera. The photographer yelped as his equipment crumpled in his hands.

“I believe that’s sufficient for tonight,” Havoc said, his voice pleasant but carrying an undercurrent that made the PR woman take an instinctive step back.

“But we need the kiss shot,” she protested weakly.

“You have what you need.” Havoc’s tone brooked no argument. “Ms. Bishop has fulfilled her obligations for the evening.”

The board member looked between them, confused. “Is there a problem with⁠—”

“No problem at all,” Havoc interrupted smoothly. “Simply a matter of scheduling. Ms. Bishop has other duties to attend to tonight.”

I watched Annie’s face. The careful mask was slipping. Her eyes were too bright. Her breathing too shallow.

She was about to break.

Havoc’s hand landed on her shoulder. “I need you back at the Tower. Now. The car will pick you up out front.”

Annie nodded and turned away, walking toward the exit. Too measured. Too controlled. I knew that walk. It was the walk of someone holding themselves together by sheer fucking willpower.

I calculated the distance to the main entrance. Sixty-three feet. The current crowd density. The increasing rigidity in her posture. The slight tremor in her hands.

She wasn’t going to make it.

She’d break before she reached the valet. Before the car arrived. She’d shatter in front of everyone—her worst fucking nightmare.

I was moving before I finished the thought, cutting diagonally through the crowd. I intercepted her trajectory fifteen feet from where she’d started to unravel.

With a pulse from the Hammer, every light went out. There were too many eyes that would see my interception.

“This way,” I said, my hand finding the small of her back.

She startled, eyes wide and glassy searching for my face in the darkness. “I need⁠—”

“I know. Just a different exit.” I guided her toward a service corridor, using the darkness and the confusion to cover us.

Her breathing was becoming erratic, gasps that would escalate into hyperventilation if I didn’t get her out of there.

The service corridor ended at a set of emergency doors. Locked, with an alarm system that would blare if opened.

I flexed my fingers, sending a silent command to the Hammer. The security system disengaged, circuits rearranging at my command as I had the Hammer turn the lights back on in the main area.

“Almost there,” I murmured, pushing the door open.

The moment we stepped outside, the fog swallowed us whole. It was like walking into a wall of gray nothing, thick enough to muffle the sounds from the gala. The Prism Pavilion’s color-shifting glass was barely visible through the haze, just vague pulses of light bleeding through the mist.

Annie pulled away from me, her hands flexing open and closed, open and closed, like she was trying to grab onto something that wasn’t there.

“Havoc broke code,” she said, her voice hollow. “He broke—” She stumbled over the words, forehead creasing as she tried to remember. “Protocol 17-B? No, that’s not right. 16-C? When a Keeper is on assignment, a Hero can’t interfere without⁠—“

Her breathing accelerated, each inhale shorter than the last.

“Annie.” I reached for her, but she jerked away.

“I can’t feel my fingers.” She stared down at her hands, panic blooming across her face. “They’re right here. I can see them. Why can’t I feel them?” Her voice rose, edging toward hysteria.

Fuck.

“Annie, look at me.” I carefully took her by the shoulders, forcing her to face me. Her eyes were unfocused, pupils dilated with fear.