Page 51 of Gambit
“Then welcome to the inner circle,” Raphael says, appearing in the doorway and offering a rare, genuine smile, which seems to put Robert at ease.
“Cheers to that,” Tarquin adds, joining him. “Let’s make some serious noise.”
“Alright,” I say. “We’ve got work to do. Challenges, threats—they’ll come at us hard and fast. We need to be ready.”
“Let them come,” Oliver says, slipping into the room with James behind him.
“Control the board, control the game,” Raphael states, his mind racing through scenarios, strategies forming like intricate webs.
“Remember, it’s not just muscle and money—it’s minds, too. We keep sharp, we keep ahead, and we keep tight. No loose ends,” I remind them, my tone enough to convey the seriousness of my words.
“Here’s to being untouchable,” James says, and while we don’t toast, the sentiment hangs heavy in the air.
“Untouchable and unstoppable,” I say, feeling the familiar thrill of ambition surge through me. “Our playground, our rules.”
“So, what exactly am I meant to be doing?” Robert asks with a low laugh.
“We’ll oversee operations and make sure everything runs like clockwork. When we leave, you will be King here. A second year with more power than you can imagine at your fingertips. You need to start building your own court of high-ranking players that will continue the work we are setting up here.”
He nods, a fire in his eyes, and I know he’s with me every step of the way.
“Right, so it’s settled then,” I say, pushing back from the table. “We infiltrate, we ingratiate, and we dominate. There are no half-measures. This is our future.”
26
ELIZA
The late morningsun is weak, and rain clouds billow around in the sky as I take an opportunity to slip out from between lectures and cross the campus. I stride into the forest, the crunch of leaves under my boots the only sound in the quiet of near midday. My breath comes easy and steady as I scout the perfect spot. It’s open enough to run but cluttered enough to hide. This will be our primitive playground when night falls.
“You can do this, Eliza,” I mutter. “It’s just a game, and no one is going to abduct you this time.” It’s a game to chase away the ghosts, to reclaim control.
I walk back the way I came and then double back to walk it again. This has to be more than just a dash into the woods. It has to be perfect. Nothing can go wrong this time.
When I’m sure I can do this by heart, I leave, the woods silent, waiting for darkness and what it brings.
Joining James for a quick cup of coffee and a bite to eat before I head back, I don’t mention my plans at all. It will be last minute, so they can’t talk me out of it.
“Did you hear about Raph and Tarq’s parents?” James asks casually, stirring his coffee with deliberate slowness as if to underline the importance of what he’s saying.
“Yeah, I heard it on the grapevine, not from either of them. It’s sad their parents are splitting up. I guess it’s hitting them hard enough to not want to talk about it yet,” I reply, taking a bite of my sandwich, trying to keep my voice calm. I don’t want him to pick up on the adrenaline that’s already starting to build for tonight.
James gives me a long look, his hazel eyes searching mine as if trying to discern if I’m up to something. “Yeah, it’s tough.”
We resort to more pleasant topics, and then I dash off back to lectures, knuckling down and focusing, realising I’ve missed more than I thought, which sucks for me, but also makes me even more determined to catch up and run ahead.
The day crawls by, and each movement of the clock gets slower by the minute, it seems.
When I eventually make it back home, I stand in front of the mirror, stripping down. The woman staring back at me doesn’t flinch. I slip into a summer dress, light and airy against my skin. It’s white, innocent, almost laughable for someone like me, but it’s perfect for this game.
I twist my hair up, leaving my tattoo exposed by the low back of the dress—the skull and rose, a stark reminder of life and death, beauty and decay. It’s a symbol of who I am, the legacy etched in ink and blood.
Running my hands down the fabric, I shiver. I want to feel it rip, the threads giving way under their fingers. I need the chill of the night air on my bare skin, the goosebumps of nerves and anticipation.
I check my reflection one last time. My eyes stare back, determined, with no fear or hesitation—just readiness.
I step out of my bedroom barefoot. Tonight, I make my lingering fears bleed out under the forest canopy, where my guys will claim me, and I will reclaim myself.
Taking the stairs slowly, I casually drift into the living room, where they’re sprawled out, books and notes scattered like afterthoughts. Their heads lift, four pairs of eyes on me.
