Super•Villainous

LV

The Guild would regret not taking my confinement seriously. They would regret ever taking me into their prison.

Atticus led us through a labyrinth of crossroads, forking paths, and dead ends. The scale of the place was astonishing. Although the Guildhall itself was massive, I never could have imagined how widespread they extended beneath the ground, the roots of a great tree snaking through the city.

We did our best to avoid other escapees, not wanting to be on the receiving end of any pandemonium they wreaked, though occasionally it couldn't be helped. I trusted Atticus knew where he was taking me by his confident stride and the fact that our path ever so slowly ascended, until, abruptly he stopped in his tracks and whirled around to face me.  We rapidly backtracked into the nearest unlocked room, where he pressed me into the adjoining wall. Two fingers to his lips telling me to stay silent nearly, but not quite, hid a ghost of playfulness curling the edges of his full mouth.

He needn't have bothered with the memo, though, because the odds of anyone hearing us beneath the wailing sirens were infinitesimal. I wondered if he did it to be cute, knowing that the last time he bid me to stay quiet while he broke into the Guildhall I had been fighting a losing battle against my own blood lust. At the time, I'd been willing to expose us both for the privilege of telling him he had no right to tell me what to do.

Pushing up onto my tiptoes, I brought my lips up to his ears and said above the headache-inducing whine, "You know, Nicole and I always thought Leigh would be the one of us  to end up in a prison."

His light laughter reverberated through his chest into mine. "Don't count her out yet. If she's dedicated, maybe we'll be able to gift my mother a set of matching mugshots for her birthday."

Shaking my head from the ridiculousness of that proposition, I dropped back down on the balls of my feet and, ducking under his arm caging me between him and the wall, stole a glance into the corridor. "I think whoever was coming has passed us by now."

"I imagine so."

He sounded strange, so I half-turned back to face him, peering over my shoulder. I expected to find him struggling from a concealed wound that my healing hadn't yet fixed. I was bracing myself to have to drag him the rest of the way out of the Underground.

What I wasn't prepared for was the look in his eyes when he took my chin and angled it up to meet him. I forgot how to breathe. I forgot where we were and the fact that we had far more pressing things to do at the moment. Suddenly, nothing else mattered. The sirens seemed to drown out my thoughts.

It was easier to blame it on the sirens.

But he only brought his forehead to mine, eyelids lowered, and murmured, "I wish you weren't a part of this. I don't know where this path ends, but it can't end well, now that both of our true names are known - or, in your case, suspected - of supervillain activity. I wish you could have had a normal life, even if I wasn't in it."

I let out the breath that I'd been holding and turned the rest of the way to face him. "I was destined to end up on a supervillain watchlist eventually, so long as I got it into my head to look at my grandfather's disappearance. I've been told I can be quite vengeful. Well..." I frowned, "I'm not sure I could do that much damage by myself, but I'd certainly try. It's the malice that counts, right? With my luck, I'd send a building down on a Super on accident, because my curse would make another attempt to squash me."

Atticus chuckled and, oh how I loved the sound of his laughter, even as weak as that. "You don't give yourself enough credit. You've managed to best me more times than any Super ever has. I never stood a chance and neither would they. You could ruin me and I would thank you for it."