Page 22 of The Game

He nods, smiling softly.

“Gonna take a while, but I’ll help ya, if you can tell me where to start.”

Mind racing, fingers itching, exhaustion forgotten, a slick grin gathers on my face, and his eyes become instantly guarded.

“How good are you at chess?”

CHAPTER12

Jameson

Sometimes, I see the swish of her thick, golden hair as she rounds a corner and disappears from my sight—and my life—again. Sometimes, I’ll awake, cold and alone and with a fury so deep in the pit of my stomach that it feels like I can breathe fire. And then I’ll look over next to me, turn my head to the left, and nothing will reside on the black, silk pillow, save for a single strand of her beautiful hair. A mockery of the fact that she truly is gone, only echoes of her left behind.

I’ll remember what her hair felt like wrapped in my fist as my teeth scraped against her tender neck, and then I’ll hear the little high-pitched moan in the back of her throat as she innocently begs for more. I would always give her more. I would drive a knife straight into my chest and pull out my heart if it meant having her back, and therein lies my weakness.

I always seemed to know she’d become my kryptonite, which is why I fought this for so long, I suppose.

Every day is hell, but a strange kind of hell. I’ve known heartache—or so I’d thought. My mother’s death, the day I discovered my ex was cheating on me, and the day Alice left. Two low moments in my life, but manageable when given enough time.

But with Alice? It doesn’t go away. It gets worse, because that soft side I held only for her is now filled with nauseating worry. Is she stuck in a shipping container like Ellie was? Is someone hurting her? Or was she really just a good fucking liar?

The conundrum plays on and on, and we exist, drinking and killing and haunting the streets we know she’s walked.

Jonah said she’d be in this dorm, but I’ve not seen her enter or exit all fucking day. Luckily for me, her window faces the grassy courtyard, lending me the perfect view of her roommate, but no Alice. No beaming blonde hair beckons me like a lighthouse, and as the sun sinks below the mountains and turns the sky a pinkish red, my hope begins to dwindle.

God only knows where Tristan’s run off to now, who he’s maiming and torturing. With all this shit piling up—Violet missing, the discovery of Ellie and disappearance of her father, and the mystery of Alice—it’s all too much to bear. I am barely clinging on to my tenuous sanity, and the fact that she is the one driving me the most crazy only pisses me off more.

My thoughts vanish as soon as the lights in her dorm room flick off. Shoulders tensing, I ease back into the greenery, blending in as best I can, eyes locked on the glass double doors that lead into the foyer. Although it fucking drives me to madness that she’s also in a co-ed dorm, I can’t focus on that right now. Her roommate exits, slim bag slung over her bony shoulders. She’s tall, thin, elegant, with sweeping brown hair and thick brows. Jonah told me she’s an exchange student from Frankfurt with a life not worth notoriety by any means.

Only child, adopted by her aunt and uncle when her parents died in a boating accident. The similarities to Alice’s life are uncanny, but then again, somewhat normal. She strides to the bike racks and unlocks her chain, stowing it in her bag before throwing her leg over the seat. It’s dinnertime, so my assumption is she will ride across campus to the Local Point, the cafeteria we toured last spring with Alice.

Our plans had been to move downtown into a condo together so her commute would be easier and so we could keep an eye on her. Bitterness tasting like acid burns up my throat with the memory, but again my thoughts are silenced when a hooded figure approaches her roommate. He’s medium height, bulky, but keeps his back to me. Irked, I shift to see if I can gain a better view; if her roommate is in danger, I’ll gladly step in.

The two exchange words, seeming to know one another. Haddie is her name I believe. She talks with her hands before fisting them on her hips, now standing next to her bike, annoyance on her face. She shakes her head, jutting her thumb back up toward her room; the lights are still off. Is Alice sick? Gone? She’s acing all her classes according to Jonah. He’s spent more timeoohingandahhingover whoever has encrypted her files, saying it’s the best work he’s seen aside from his own. Kid probably gets a hard-on from lines of zeroes and ones.

Narrowing my eyes through the growing darkness, Haddie grabs her bike handles and shoves past the man as he makes a grab for her arm. My body leans forward instinctually; as shitty as it sounds, I don’t really care if she’s hurt by this man or not. I just need her to stay alive so I have a chance at getting information on Alice.

Before I can swoop in to rescue her, a flash of brilliant orange hair pierces the darkness, and a little slip of a woman dashes past me. I strike out and grab her before she can approach the arguing pair, wrestling her to my chest as she thrashes and kicks but otherwise makes no noise.

After having the fucking life choked out of her, she can’t. Alice told us the story in confidence, how little Aria Ceto, her friend from school who used to watch their volleyball practices, was victim of a most heinous crime—a crime that should’ve claimed her life but stole her voice instead.

“Calm down, tiger,” I growl, gripping her cheeks with one hand as she gnashes her little teeth at me. When her strange, sea foam shaded eyes blink up at me and recognition dawns on her pale face, she sags in relief, tears dotting her lashes. Guilt grips me as she trembles, and I release her face to instead fold her into a gentle side hug.

“Sorry,” I grunt, chafing her arm. She sniffs and nods, and my eyes swish across the now-empty courtyard. Fuck. Pulling her away, I level her with a glare.

“What the fuck are you doing here, anyways?”

She wipes her nose on her sleeve and reaches for her phone, knowing better than to attempt to use sign with me, for I am shitty and never learned how. The few times we’ve interacted, she’s spoken to us via notes. Her fingers fly over the keyboard, the pale, bluish light casting her face in an eerie glow, as though she’s some sort of siren in the depths of the ocean. When she passes her phone over, her timid eyes peek up at me, and her shoulders hunch a little more. Poor thing is afraid of her own shadow.

I’m looking for Alice. I haven’t seen her in a few weeks, and last time she seemed really off. I saw Ellie yesterday and she wanted me to find Alice.

“Why did Ellie want you to find her?” I ask, not bothering to glance up from the words as I allow them to sink fully in. She holds out her hand for her phone, and I pass it back. Deleting the previous explanation, she types again while my eyes survey the area, my protective instincts extending to Aria as well; she’s too little, too timid for this side of the world, and with her murky past, I feel obligated to keep an eye on her.

Her phone lights up under my nose, and I grip the cool metal and glass again.

Because of what happened to Ellie…she wanted me to warn Alice to come back home before something like that happened to her, too.

My eyes snap up, and Aria is biting her bottom lip, twisting her hands nervously before she signs one of the only words I know:Sorry.

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