Page 68 of Game Over

RYKER

Ihold her as she sleeps, her weight against me, both foreign and familiar. Kira’s breathing settles into a rhythm I memorize, another piece of her that belongs to me now.

The night stretches around us. I track time precisely—four hours and seventeen minutes she’s been asleep in my arms. Her hair catches the moonlight filtering through the window, and I allow myself to touch it, winding strands around my fingers. This wasn’t planned. These quiet moments weren’t in my simulations.

She mumbles unintelligibly in her sleep, nestling closer. The woods around the cabin are alive with night sounds—rustling leaves, distant animal calls, the soft hum of insects. I catalog each noise methodically, ever vigilant. No one will find us here. This place exists in no records, maps, or even county tax rolls.

My muscles should ache from holding the same position for hours, but I barely notice. I’ve trained my body to endure far worse. What I can’t rationalize is the tightness in my chest when she sighs against me. This... attachment wasn’t part of the plan.

Dawn approaches. Pink-orange light bleeds through the trees. Time for Level 6.

I carefully slip from beneath her, replacing my body with my folded jacket. From my pocket, I retrieve the note I prepared before I captured her, though now I hesitate. The instructions seem harsh in the gentle morning light. Still, the game continues. Structure is necessary. True authority is essential.

I place the note beside her on a nightstand. Clean white paper against rustic wood.

My handwriting is precise:

Mischief,

Level 6 begins when you open your eyes.

The forest holds more than just the thrill of the hunt. Today, you’ll discover what it means to be truly exposed. Find the stream that runs a quarter mile east of where you are. Strip. Bathe yourself in the cold water while I watch from somewhere you can’t see.

Your body belongs to me now—every inch, every curve, every goosebump that forms when the water touches your skin. I want to see you vulnerable under the open sky, knowing my eyes are on you but not knowing from where.

After your bath, follow the red ribbons tied to the trees. Each one holds an instruction. Some will pleasure you, some will hurt, but all will remind you who owns you.

You have no choice but to obey. The forest is mine. You are mine.

Don’t disappoint me, Kira. I’m always watching.

—R

P.S. The collar I’ve left beside this note is waterproof. Put it on before you do anything else. If you remove it before I say so, the consequences will make our previous games seem like gentle foreplay.

I stand over her sleeping form a moment longer before retreating silently into the trees. She looks peaceful, unguarded. A part of me wants to stay and be here when she wakes.

Instead, I follow the plan.

I move silently through the forest, putting distance between myself and Kira. My phone vibrates in my pocket. I check the screen—Damien, my COO. Irritation flickers through me, but I answer. The outside world rarely intrudes here, but some matters require attention.

“Damien.” My voice is clipped, professional. A different person from the one who just held Kira.

“Ryker, sorry to bother you during your... time off.” Damien’s voice carries the careful tone of someone who knows not to ask questions. “We have a situation with the Pentagon contract.”

I scan the tree line, calculating the time until Kira wakes. “Go on.”

“The security auditors found a backdoor in the surveillance package. They’re threatening to pull the entire contract unless we explain.”

Of course they found it. I designed it specifically to be discovered—a sacrificial flaw hiding three deeper, undetectable ones.

“Tell them it was an oversight in code migration. Fire someone from the security team—Peters, preferably. He’s been stealing for months.” I’ve documented every transgression, stored neatly in encrypted files.

“Are you sure? Peters is one of our best?—”

“Then offer him a contractor position at thirty percent higher pay through one of our shells. The Pentagon needs to believe we’re taking this seriously.”

“Got it.” Damien pauses. “The board’s asking questions about your absence. Two weeks is the longest you’ve ever been away without checking in at HQ.”

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