They aren’t supposed to protect ordinaries. They aren’t supposed to care about me. They aren’t supposed to care about anything but themselves. Where are the bad-to-the-bone, hell-bent-on-destruction anarchists the League is always talking about?
Nitro finally stirs and groans, but before anyone can say anything, the alarm cuts off abruptly. A loud, digital voice blasts through the intercom above us. “This is the Superhero Police Department. An alarm is going off in your laboratory and we have been unable to reach security. Is there a problem?”
For a second, all of us freeze. Then Draven turns to me with wide, warning eyes. “Don’t you dare—”
I don’t give myself a chance to think. These guys are villains, and I can’t—I won’t—have any sympathy for them.
“Yes!” I scream. “Send help! There are villains in the lab!”
“Damn it!” Dante lunges for me. “Shut up.”
But it’s too late. The computerized voice says, “The police have been dispatched. Help is on its way.”
“Damn it!” Dante yells again. He bends down and pulls a still-groggy Nitro to his feet. “We have to go.”
“Get him out of here!” Draven tells him. “I’ll deal with her.”
“We should take her with us. Use her as leverage to get Deacon back.”
A shiver of terror runs down my spine. Heroes don’t negotiate with villains. I can’t let them kidnap me, can’t let them—
“No.” Draven’s voice, clear and calm and cold, cuts through my panic. “That would make us no better than them. We don’t do that.”
“Maybe we should start. The heroes—”
“We don’t have time for this,” Draven says. “Take Nitro and get the hell out of here. I’ll make sure she can’t say anything about us.”
Dante looks like he wants to argue, but time is ticking away and he knows it. With one last angry scowl at me, one I return with more than a little fury of my own, he throws Nitro over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry and makes a run for the exit.
The door bangs shut behind him, and I brace myself for the worst. This is it. This is the moment when Draven proves he’s a true villain.
But all he does is look straight into my eyes and say, “I’m sorry.”
At first I think he’s talking about the breakin, the mess, Nitro’s attempted murder of me. All things he should apologize for. But his eyes have gone as cold and empty as the shards of glass that litter the floor. And I know.
He’s about to wipe every trace of him and his friends from my memory.
Well, he can try.
I don’t fight him. Instead, I ask the question that’s been burning inside me. “You’re a villain. Why stop Nitro from hurting me? Why not let Dante kidnap me?”
Long seconds tick away as silence stretches between us, taut as a circus high wire. But I want to know the answers. I want to know what would make a villain risk himself to save me. I can’t remember anyone outside of family ever putting me first. I can’t believe it was a villain who did.
I’ve decided he’s not going to reply when he finally whispers, “Can’t a bad guy do a good thing?”
I pause for a moment. “I’ve never seen it happen.”
“Yeah.” He looks away and swallows. “Me neither.”
When he turns back to me, his eyes glow laser bright and I know this is it, the moment when he’s going to try to make me forget everything that’s happened. Nitro. Dante. The lab explosion. Him.
For a moment, just a moment, I think about asking him not to. But I know how futile that would be, and how stupid. “Villain” and “criminal” are pretty much synonymous. He can’t leave a witness who can identify him and his buddies. And I can’t reveal my greatest secret, not when it’s the only protection I have. So I keep my eyes open and let him do his thing.
He takes both of my hands in one of his, and I let him. Force myself to do nothing as he pulls out a bandana—black, of course—and wraps it around my clasped hands before winding it around the faucet on the nearest lab table. He does this twice, pulling it as tightly as he can before tying it off.
“I’m sorry,” he says again. “Someone will find you soon.”
I manage a blank stare.
“You went to the vending machine to get your chocolate. You heard an explosion. When you came back, a masked burglar was in the lab. He tied you up, then ran.”
He steps back, places my long-forgotten chocolate bar on the table, and then walks out without a backward glance as the alarm, sirens and all, starts back up again. He’s got every confidence that I won’t remember a thing about tonight. About him and his friends and what they were looking for.
But that’s not how it works. Not with me. As I watch him turn the corner, it’s not remembering him that I’m worried about.
It’s forgetting him.
Chapter 3
“Kenna, my God,” Mom says, rushing into the lab and wrapping me in a hug. “Are you okay?”
I sink into her, taking the comfort while I can get it. It will only be a few minutes before she notices the state of her lab, and my bruised wrists and even more bruised ego will be forgotten. “I’m o—”
“My lab,” she interrupts with a gasp.