Page 46 of Game Over

I run my thumb across her trembling bottom lip. “So tell me. Your best friend. Would you sacrifice her to please me? To keep me? Or would you try to save her?”

I notice the exact moment something breaks inside her. My question about Jenna shatters whatever fragile equilibrium she’s been maintaining. Her face contorts, and tears flood her eyes—not the few tears from before, but a torrent of raw emotion.

“Fuck you.” The words barely escape through her sobs. “You fucking psycho.”

Her body thrashes against the restraints with renewed vigor. The calm from moments ago vanishes completely, replaced by visceral rage.

“Is that jealousy I see?” I ask, tilting my head as I study her reaction. “Interesting. You don’t want to share me.”

“You leave Jenna out of this. She has nothing to do with this!” she screams, face flushed with anger.

I grab her jaw, savoring how she jerks away from my touch. “Everything in your life has to do with me now.”

“You’re a fucking asshole.” Her words come through gritted teeth, eyes burning with hatred. “I’m not answering your sick question. I won’t play this game.”

I sit back, observing her rebellion with clinical interest. This is expected—necessary, even. Breaking points reveal the truth.

“Go fuck yourself, Ryker.” She spits the words at me. “I don’t care what you do to me. I’m not helping you hurt anyone else.”

Her defiance is beautiful in its own way—like watching a wounded animal bare its teeth—pointless but admirable.

“I’m not telling you anything else,” she continues. “Shock me all you want. I don’t care anymore.”

Her defiance makes me smile, and pride swells in my chest. This—this right here—is why she’s mine.

“That’s exactly the right answer.” My voice softens as I reach for her face, wiping away tears with my thumb. “You passed.”

Confusion flickers across her features, her rage momentarily derailed.

“I would never bring Jenna here. Never touch her.” I stroke her hair gently, soothing. “That was a test, and you passed beautifully.”

Her breathing comes in ragged gasps, uncertainty replacing anger in her eyes.

“I only get hard for you, Kira. Only dream about you.” I press my forehead against hers, feeling her tremble. “There’s never been anyone else. There never will be.”

I cup her face between my palms. “I needed to see if there was a line you wouldn’t cross for me. If there was still that core of goodness inside you—the part that makes you special.”

Her face crumples, and fresh tears spill down her cheeks.

“You protected your friend even while restrained, drugged, and terrified.” My thumbs brush away the wetness on her skin. “That loyalty, that heart—it’s why I chose you. Why I’ve always chosen you.”

A sob tears from her throat, her entire body shaking with it. The psychological whiplash breaks her, and she collapses into herself, crying with desperation.

“Shhh, you did so well.” I kiss her forehead, her temple, the corner of her eye. “I’m so proud of you.”

Her sobs intensify, echoing through the room as fear, confusion, and trauma pour out. I hold her face, continuing to whisper praise and devotion while she breaks apart in my hands.

16

KIRA

Iwake with startling clarity, my eyes snapping open to the same ceiling I’ve been staring at for... I don’t even know how long anymore. My body feels heavy, but my mind is sharp—too sharp. The fog of whatever drugs he’s been pumping into me is gone, replaced by a crystalline awareness that cuts worse than any knife.

My fingers grip the sheets beneath me. Not restrained. That’s new. The absence of bindings should feel like freedom, but my wrists still burn with phantom pressure. I don’t move. Can’t move. Something inside me has shattered.

Level three. God, level three.

The physical pain from the shocks was nothing compared to the way he peeled back every layer of my mind. Made me confess things I’d never spoken aloud, desires I’d buried so deep I barely acknowledged them myself. Things I typed into incognito browsers at night. Things I whispered into the darkness when I thought no one could hear.

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