Page 44 of Push My Buttons
I lean closer, my mask nearly touching hers. "You're exactly as I imagined," I whisper, the words escaping before I can stop them.
Her eyes widen slightly, something like surprise flickering in their depths. Then, in a flash, she flips the advantage—duckingunder my arm and using my momentary distraction to slip past me. By the time I turn around, she's already several steps away, looking back over her shoulder with what I imagine is a smirk behind those chains.
Annoyed? Sure. But mostly? Impressed as hell. She's playing the game perfectly—giving just enough to keep me engaged, then reasserting control when I least expect it.
I pocket the patch I claimed, already planning my next approach. As I move to follow her, I hear NeedleAndVice's voice again, closer this time.
This time, something clicks. The cadence of the words. The cockiness in the tone.
I freeze mid-step, realization punching through me like a physical blow.
Theo.
NeedleAndVice is Theo Dawson. My colleague. The marketing guy who flirts with Wren at the coffee shop. The man who's been learning sign language just to communicate with her.
The pieces cascade into place with dizzying speed. If NeedleAndVice is Theo, and I'm WrathSpawn, and we're both here with Vanta, who looks and moves exactly like Silence from our game...
My heart pounds so hard I can feel it in my fingertips. The pattern is unmistakable now, impossible to ignore.
Vanta isn't just looking like Silence by coincidence.
Vanta IS Silence.
And if Silence is Vanta, then by extension...
Wren. The quiet barista with pink hair and expressive hands. The woman who had a panic attack when news of Lucien Cain's capture broke. The woman I've been slowly, cautiously falling for. She doesn’t need saving. She needs someone who can keep up.
Wren is SilenceandVanta.
It’s not fear that hits me—it’s adrenaline. Like a player realizing the final boss has been with you since level one. She’s not just Vanta. She’s Silence. And Silence is Wren. And suddenly, I don’t know whether I want to chase her or fall at her feet. How did I not see it before? The signs were there—the way she communicates without words, the precise movements, the careful control she maintains in every interaction.
I hear Theo's voice again, closer now, and realize with a jolt that he doesn't know. He hasn't made the connection yet. To him, this is still just a fantasy—a masked encounter with a cam girl he admires.
And she's invited us both here, into this elaborate scenario. Why? What is she trying to accomplish?
She’s not the girl I thought she was. She’s not just sweet, or shy, or silent. She’s fire in disguise. Sharp edges under pink hair. She’s three fantasies stitched together, and none of them are what I thought. But somehow, that just makes me want her more.
I start moving again, my steps more purposeful now. I need to find her. Need to understand what's happening. She designed this whole damn game. Every trap. Every tease. Every glance. And I want to know what drives her to hide behind all three masks. Not because I’m worried. Because I want to earn the right to see her without them.
Because suddenly, the patches and the oil balls and the competitive element feel secondary to something much more important: the truth that's been hiding behind three different masks all along.
And as I navigate deeper into the labyrinth she's created, one thought burns brighter than all others: when this game ends, we're all going to have to face reality without our masks.
I just hope we're ready for what we'll find.
Chapter 17
Wren
Icrouchintheshadows of a collapsed doorway, catching my breath. My body hums with electricity, every nerve ending alive and firing. I can still feel the imprint of ObsidianWolf's fingers against my collarbone, the heat of his body as he pressed me against the wall. My skin tingles at the memory.
The game is going exactly as I planned, maybe even better. I've managed to stay one step ahead of them both, teasing and retreating, offering just enough to keep them hungry for more. But something's changed in the last few minutes. The energy has shifted.
I didn't recognize them at first. When I was perched above them, watching their initial interactions, I was too focused on their masks, their movements, the game ahead. But then ObsidianWolf spoke—that precise, measured cadence—and NeedleAndVice laughed, and suddenly everything clicked into place.
Jace and Theo.
The realization hit me like a physical blow. These aren't random subscribers. They're the men I see regularly. The oneswho order coffee and make me smile. The ones I game with most nights. The ones I've been slowly developing feelings for.
