Page 95 of Game Over

“Tomorrow we’ll get your things,” I murmur against her skin. “Tonight, you’re mine.”

32

KIRA

The coffee shop buzzes with normal life—people ordering lattes, typing on laptops, and meeting friends. I wrap my hands around my mug, absorbing its warmth while ignoring Ryker's third notification in the last hour.

Are you safe?

Did you arrive?

Remember our agreement.

My fingers hover over the screen. A week ago, I was his captive. Now I'm his... what? Girlfriend? Partner? The woman who chose to stay with her kidnapper?

The bell above the door jingles. I look up, and there's Jenna—my best friend who has no idea where I've been for the last two weeks. Her blonde hair is pulled back in a messy bun, dark circles under her eyes. When she spots me, her face transforms through shock, anger, and relief.

"Kira?" Her voice breaks. "Oh my god."

She rushes over, nearly knocking over my chair as she hugs me. Her familiar coconut shampoo and that perfume she's worn since college bring tears to my eyes.

"Where the fuck have you been?" She pulls back, gripping my shoulders. "I filed a missing person report. The police searched. Your face is on flyers all over town."

My cheeks burn. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry? You disappeared in the middle of GamerCon without a word. Your phone was dead. No one could reach you." Her eyes narrow. "Are those new clothes?"

I glance down at the soft cashmere sweater Ryker bought me. "I can explain."

Can I, though? How do I tell her that I'm living with the man who kidnapped me? When I'm away from him, my skin crawls with need. That sometimes I wake in the night, reaching for him, panicking when he's not there?

"I met someone," I whisper.

"At GamerCon? And you just... left with him? Without telling me?"

I nod, the lie is easier than the truth. Is it Stockholm syndrome that makes me check my phone again? Is it brainwashing that makes me crave the safety of Ryker's arms, his compound?

Or is it something real—the connection we forged through those twisted "levels," how he sees the darkness in me and loves it anyway? Or even the connection we forged over two years of gaming together.

"Kira." Jenna's voice pulls me back. "What's going on with you? This isn't like you at all."

"I met Rogue," I blurt out, my hands fidgeting with my coffee mug. "He actually came to GamerCon."

Jenna's eyebrows shoot up. "What?"

"Yeah, and get this—he was that guy. From the club. The one who wouldn't talk to me." The lie flows easier than I expected, weaving truth with fiction. "He wanted to surprise me. That's why he never spoke at the club—he didn't want to give away his voice that I'd recognize from our sessions."

"That's..." Jenna's face scrunches up. "That's honestly creepy as hell, Kira. He stalked you at a club before the convention?"

"No, it wasn't like that." I feel heat rise to my cheeks. "It was sweet. He wanted our first meeting to be special."

Jenna looks unconvinced. "There's nothing sweet about a guy following you around and planning some elaborate reveal."

"He was a Ghost cosplayer," I continue, desperate to make this sound romantic instead of terrifying. "After he showed me who he was, he asked me on a date. Turns out he's loaded, like, seriously wealthy. He has this amazing place in the woods near the ocean."

I take a sip of my coffee, avoiding her eyes. "Everything happened so fast. He whisked me away, and I got caught up in everything. I'm sorry I didn't call. It was this whole whirlwind thing."

Jenna stares at me for a long moment, her expression shifting between concern and disbelief. She toys with the cardboard sleeve on her cup.

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