Page 93 of Game Over

“The rush of it. The danger, knowing you wouldn’t let anything really bad happen to me.” Her eyes meet mine, steady now. “How you looked at me like I was the only thing that mattered in the universe.”

I reach across the table, taking her hand in mine. Her pulse flutters under my thumb like a captured bird.

“You are,” I say simply, because it’s true. “You’re everything.”

She turns her hand over, her fingers intertwining with mine. “So we can have both? Normal dates and... the other stuff?”

I lean forward, the intensity of my gaze making her breath catch.

“You want more levels?” My voice drops. “I have five more designed, each more intense than the last.”

She bites her lower lip, and I nearly groan at the sight.

“But I’ll create a hundred more if that’s what you want,” I continue, brushing my thumb across her cheek. “A thousand. I’ll build worlds for you to conquer and challenges to overcome. Whatever twisted fantasy you can imagine, I’ll make it a reality.”

The devotion in my voice surprises even me. I’d planned to break her to make her mine. Instead, seeing her broken at my hand unraveled me, and now she’s claimed me completely.

“I’ll do anything for you, Kira. Anything.” The words feel ripped from somewhere deep. “The levels, normal dates, quiet nights at home. All of it.”

Her eyes shine with tears. “You mean it?”

I take her face in my hands, gentle yet firm. “I’ve never meant anything more. You own me now. All my skills, resources, and obsessions are yours to command.”

She smiles, that small, genuine smile that makes my chest ache.

“I think I’d like that,” she says, her voice stronger than before. “The levels could be between real life and us learning about each other.”

The tension between us shifts, softens into comfort. She takes another bite of pasta, laughter suddenly dancing in her eyes.

“So tell me about Level Eight,” she says casually, as if asking about the weather. “Is it as intense as Seven?”

I can’t help but laugh, the sound rusty but real. “Curious, aren’t we? Level Eight is different, but that’s all I’m saying for now.”

She grins, leaning her chin on her hand. “And your favorite game? You know all of mine, but I’ve never asked about yours.”

Kira finishes the last few bites of pasta, closing her eyes briefly with each mouthful. She’s appreciating the food I made for her, a connection that feels oddly more intimate than anything we’ve shared.

“So you never answered,” she says, setting her fork down. “What’s your actual favorite game? Not just the ones you’ve played with me.”

“Dishonored,” I admit, collecting our plates. “The balance between stealth and chaos, the multiple paths. Every decision has consequences.”

Kira’s eyes light up. “That tracks. You’re definitely a calculated chaos kind of guy.”

We leave the dishes in the sink, which I’d never normally do, but tonight I can’t bear to waste a minute away from her. I guide her to the living room, my hand resting lightly on the small of her back.

“I have every streaming service known to man,” I tell her as we collapse onto the couch. “Take your pick.”

She selects some mindless action movie—but within minutes, we’re turned toward each other, the TV nothing but colored light and background noise.

“What was the first game you ever played?” she asks, tucking her feet under my thigh.

“Doom, on my dad’s computer. Before things went bad.” The honesty slips out before I can stop it. “You?”

“Super Mario World. I was five and terrible at it.” Her laugh is soft, unguarded.

We trade stories like precious gems—her first console, my first hack, the games that saved us when reality was too harsh. I’ve memorized her life from surveillance and research, but hearing it from her lips makes everything new.

“I just realized something,” Kira says, her head resting against my shoulder. “This is the longest I’ve gone without conventionally gaming in years.”

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