Page 97 of Game Over

Jenna nods. "I'll be there. Text me the address?"

I hesitate. Ryker's compound is secluded—intentionally so. "He'll probably send a car for you. It's kind of remote."

"Of course it is," Jenna mutters, rolling her eyes. "Your mysterious boyfriend lives in a remote mansion. Totally normal."

As we finish our coffee, discussing safer topics like her job and the latest gaming news, I can't stop my mind from racing ahead to Saturday night. Ryker and Jenna are in the same room. My past and present are colliding in ways I never imagined possible.

How will they interact? Ryker can be charming when he wants to be—I've seen him slip into that mask effortlessly. But Jenna knows me better than anyone. She'll be analyzing his every move and looking for red flags.

What if she somehow senses what's underneath? What if she looks at us together and sees not a whirlwind romance but a prisoner and her captor?

Jenna has always been perceptive. She knew when I was lying about finishing assignments in college and when I was upset, even before I did. If anyone could see through the facade Ryker and I have constructed, it's her.

But even more terrifying—what if she sees the truth? That part of me has embraced this captivity. That somewhere between level one and seven, I stopped fighting and started accepting. Not just Ryker, but my true self.

33

RYKER

The blue dot on my screen inches along the winding road leading to our compound. Five minutes out, I minimize the tracking app and glance at the other monitors—security feeds from all angles of the property, system diagnostics, and network traffic. Everything is secure and under control.

I shouldn’t have let her go alone.

My fingers drum against the desk as I wait. The coffee shop meeting was a risk. Necessary, but dangerous.Jennaknows too much and suspects even more. The way she looked atKira, searching for signs of duress—it’s all there in the video I captured throughKira’sphone.

“Three minutes from destination,” the app announces.

I roll my shoulders and close the audio file where I’d been reviewing their conversation.Kiradoesn’t need to know I was listening. What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her. This is protection, not control. There’s a difference.

The cameras at the front gate activate as her car approaches. I watch her punch in the code, her small hands moving with certainty. She belongs here now with me.

Her face in the camera tells me everything. The slight furrow between her brows. The way she bites her lower lip.Jennagot to her. Planted seeds of doubt.

I switch to the garage camera and watch as she parks. She sits for a moment, both hands on the wheel, eyes closed, taking a breath and preparing herself.

For what?

The question burns in my chest as I kill the feeds and straighten my shirt. By the time Kira enters, I’ll be in the kitchen, casual, normal. Like I haven’t been tracking her every movement since she left. As if I didn’t hack into the coffee shop’s security system to watch their entire interaction from three different angles.

Some habits can’t be broken. Some parts of me will never change, even for her, especially for her.

The garage door into the compound opens.

She’s home.

I close my laptop.

I time it perfectly, pouring myself a glass of water as her footsteps echo down the hallway. I have three seconds to arrange my body language—relaxed shoulders, casual lean against the granite countertop, eyes not immediately seeking the door. The illusion of normalcy matters.

The kitchen door swings open.Kira’scheeks flush with color from the cool air outside, her hair slightly windblown. Beautiful. Mine.

“Hey,” she says, voice tight around the edges.

I take a slow sip of water, measuring her expression against my memorized baseline. “How was coffee withJenna?”

Her bag drops to the floor with a soft thud. “She wants to meet you.”

“I know. You texted me, remember?”

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