Page 33 of Game Over

“Morning,Mischief.” His voice carries that same deep timbre that made my stomach flutter when we’d game together. Now, it makes my skin crawl.

I’m not home. This isn’t my bedroom. It’s a replica hidden somewhere far from civilization. AndRyker—my gaming partnerRogue, my TikTok crushGhostDaddy—constructed it all.

“You drugged me again.” My words slur slightly.

He smiles, that dimple appearing on his right cheek. “Just a little something to help you rest. You were... over-excited after our session.”

Our session. Images flash through my mind—me dancing for him in that first “level.” The feel of his hands gripping my hips during the lap dance he demanded. The humiliation burns through me all over again.

“How long have I been out?” I pull the blanket tighter, suddenly aware of my nakedness.

“Just overnight.” He approaches the bed and sits on the edge, too close. “You did so well yesterday,Kira. I knew you would.”

My stomach turns as I remember how my body betrayed me, responding to his touch even as my mind screamed in protest.

“Water?” He offers a glass, and the gesture triggers another memory—accepting a drink from him yesterday, the world going fuzzy around the edges—just like at the convention. The realization that he’s done this multiple times makes me want to vomit.

“Get away from me.” I press myself against the headboard, as far from him as possible.

His blue eyes darken. “Don’t be like that. Not after everything we shared.”

I stare at him, this stranger who isn’t a stranger. The man whose voice has been in my ears for countless nights of gaming, whose TikToks I’ve watched obsessively, who somehow became two separate fantasies, now merged into one terrifying reality.

“You’re insane.”

He tilts his head. “Is that what you think?”

“You kidnapped me. You drugged me. You built a fake version of my bedroom.” My voice rises with each accusation. “What part of that sounds sane to you?”

A smile plays at the corners of his mouth. “I prefer to think of it as dedication.”

Despite everything—the fear, the violation, the absolute horror of my situation—I can’t stop my eyes from taking him in. He’s beautiful in a way that makes me hate myself for noticing. Tall enough that I’d have to stand on tiptoes to reach his mouth. His arms are covered in intricate tattoos that disappear beneath his tight black T-shirt. His shoulders stretch the fabric, muscles shifting beneath as he leans toward me.

I hate that I can still see what attracted me to his online personas. I hate that some traitorous part of me still responds to his physical presence, even as every rational part of my brain screams danger.

“You don’t understand what you’ve done,” I say, hating how my voice trembles. “People will be looking for me.Jenna?—”

“Is now under the impression you took off with a friend on a trip.” He shrugs, the casual gesture chilling me to the bone. “As I explained before your last rest, she received texts from your phone. Very convincing ones.”

I feel sick. My best friend, the one person who would move heaven and earth to find me, thinks I’m off on some romantic adventure.

The methodical way he’s erased my existence from the outside world makes my blood run cold. He’s thought of everything.

“Someone will figure it out,” I insist, clinging to hope. “People know me. They’ll know something’s wrong.”

“Will they?” He raises an eyebrow. “The beauty of modern life is how disconnected we all are, even while seemingly connected. How many friends do you talk to daily? How often does your mother really check in? How many colleagues would notice if your social media posts became slightly less frequent but continued nonetheless?”

He’s right, and that terrifies me. My life has been increasingly online over the past few years. Aside fromJenna, my closest relationships have been with people likeRogue, people I’ve never met.

“You need to eat.”Rykerstands, clearly considering the matter settled. “We’ve got a busy day ahead of us.”

The way he says it makes my skin crawl—it’s like we’re colleagues about to start a project, not captor and captive.

“Gaming day.” He grins, that dimple appearing again. “Time to level up.”

My stomach drops. After yesterday’s “games,” I can’t imagine what fresh hell he has planned.

“Follow me.” He stands and holds out his hand expectantly.

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