Page 42 of Game Over

I studyRyker’sface for any reaction, any hint that he’s detected my partial deception. My muscles tense in anticipation of whatever “consequence” his device might deliver.

Ryker’sexpression doesn’t change, but something in his eyes hardens. The corner of his mouth twitches slightly. The screens behind him flicker with red indicators.

“First lesson,Mischief.” His voice lowers, disappointment evident in his tone. “Never lie to someone who knows your tells better than you do.” He taps the screen where my vitals are displayed. “Your pulse jumped. Your micro-expressions gave you away. Your skin flushed along your collarbone—you always flush there when you’re being dishonest.”

I swallow hard. The fact that he knows my body’s reactions better than I do makes me feel more exposed than the fact that I’m naked.

“The rules were clear. Truth earns rewards. Lies earn consequences.” His thumb hovers over the remote. “You’re not afraid of pain,Kira. You’re afraid of wanting it. That frightens you—the part of yourself you’ve kept locked away.”

Before I can argue, his thumb presses the button.

The sensation hits without warning—an electric current pulsing through the contacts against my skin. I arch off the bed, a cry tearing from my throat. It’s pain—sharp, immediate, burning through every nerve ending. But beneath the pain, something else rides along—a buzzing sensation that sends confusing signals to my brain. The dual sensations war within me, my body unsure whether to retreat or lean in.

“Fuck!” I gasp when it stops, my chest heaving, tears streaming down my face.

“That was the lowest setting.”Rykerstudies my reaction clinically, but I catch the darkening of his pupils. “A reminder that dishonesty has a cost. But I suspect part of you enjoyed that more than you’d like to admit.”

I glare at him through my tears, hating him for being right, hating myself for my body’s betrayal. “You’re a monster.”

“No.” He leans closer, his breath warm against my ear. “I’m just the first person to see you clearly. To accept all of you, even the parts you hide from yourself.” His touch lingers at the curve of my neck. “Now, shall we try again? What frightens you more—that I might hurt you or that you might enjoy it?”

The electricity fades but leaves my skin tingling, a ghostly reminder of what happened. I hate this—hate how the pain and pleasure blur together in ways I don’t want to understand.

“Fine,” I concede. “What frightens me more is... that I might enjoy it.” The words taste like defeat. “That there’s something wrong with me for responding to this. That deep down, all those fantasies weren’t just fantasies.”

The admission hangs in the air between us, heavy with implication. I feel naked in ways that have nothing to do with my actual nakedness.

Ryker’sexpression softens, though that predatory focus never leaves his eyes. His fingertips ghost along my collarbone, tracing the flush that’s betrayed me. My body arches slightly into his touch before I can stop myself. I feel a fresh wave of shame at my involuntary response. My body wants his touch even as my mind recoils from it. The confusion is maddening.

“Eyes on mine,Kira.”

I reluctantly meet his gaze, feeling utterly broken.

“There she is,” he murmurs. “The realKira. Not the one who smiles for streams or pretends for friends. The one who lives beneath all those careful layers.” His voice carries an almost reverent quality. “Do you know how rare you are? Most people live their entire lives without facing their true selves.”

Something in his praise makes my chest tighten. Not just because it’s manipulation, but because part of me has always longed to be seen this way. Completely. Without judgment.

“That said...” His tone shifts, becoming clinical again. “You don’t get a reward for honesty that follows deception. Trust is earned, and you’ve just taken your first small step.”

I swallow hard, embarrassed by the flicker of disappointment I feel. What reward could I possibly want from my captor? Yet some traitorous part of me had anticipated it, whatever it might have been.

Rykeradjusts something on his laptop, eyes scanning the data and scrolling across the screen. “Next question.” His gaze returns to mine, penetrating and direct. “When you think about me—aboutRogue, aboutGhostDaddy—what fantasy often plays in your mind?”

His question pierces through me like a knife. My most frequent fantasy? The one that plays in my mind when I think of him? My throat closes up, and I feel the blood drain from my face.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The lie sounds hollow even to my own ears.

Rykerraises an eyebrow. “Your heart rate just spiked to 110 beats per minute. Try again.”

I close my eyes, unable to look at him. The fantasy that visits me most often in the dark of night, the one I’ve never admitted to anyone... It’s exactly this. Being taken and having my autonomy stripped away by someone who wants me so desperately they’d cross every line to have me.

“I can’t,” I say, my voice barely audible. “Please don’t make me.”

“That’s not how this works.” His fingers brush a path over my arm, raising goosebumps. My nipples tighten again in response, and I bite my lip to keep from making a sound. The disconnect between my mind’s revulsion and my body’s eagerness is torturous. “The truth will set you free, remember?”

I release a bitter laugh that dissolves into a sob. “There’s nothing freeing about this.”

His finger hovers over the remote, a silent warning.

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