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“Careful of the props!”Jennasteadies me, noticing my sudden pallor. “You okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I’m fine,” I lie, scanning the crowd frantically for the Minecraft guy. “Just someone being weird.”

“Remember last year when that guy’s sword fell apart during the costume contest?”Jennaasks, clearly trying to distract me. “Poor dude had to do his whole performance with just the handle.”

“At least he committed to it. Made it look like his character had just finished an epic battle.” I smile, but my eyes dart around the entrance area. The line of Ghost cosplayers has multiplied.

“I can’t believe you talked me into Lara Croft.”Jennatugs at her shorts, oblivious to my growing panic. “These pockets are useless.”

“But you look amazing! Besides, what else can rival dual pistols and tiny shorts?” My voice sounds hollow even to my own ears.

“I could’ve been Bayonetta.”

“With her heels? You’d break an ankle before we hit the dealer’s room.”

We share a laugh, but mine comes out strained. The convention center looms ahead, its glass doors reflecting the morning sun and the crowd of cosplayers eager to enter. Somewhere inside, someone is waiting for me.

As we approach the entrance, I feel a hand brush against my lower back—so light it could be accidental in this crowded space. But the deliberate way it traces the exact pattern of my spine sends a chill through me.

“Jenna.” I grab her arm. “Promise you won’t leave me alone today, okay?”

She gives me a curious look. “Of course not. We’re sticking together. That was always the plan.”

I nod, relief washing over me. At least I have my best friend by my side, whatever happens, but as we hand our tickets to the attendant, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m walking straight into a trap.

The convention doors swing open, welcoming us into a world of noise, color, and excitement. A chill runs down my spine as my eyes scan the crowd. I can’t explain it, but a feeling deep in my gut tells me someone is watching and waiting. Like prey sensing a predator, I feel like I’m in danger.

9

RYKER

Iadjust my Ghost mask, ensuring the name tag “GhostDaddy” is visible. Through the crowd, I spot that familiar curve of her hips, the way she moves. MyKira. She’s even more beautiful in her Aloy costume than I imagined.

My fingers twitch with the need to touch her. Soon. Everything’s premeditated, every move precisely planned. I’ve seen her TikTok reactions to my content enough times to know exactly how she’ll respond when she realizes who I am.

The convention floor pulses with energy, but I tune it all out. There’s only her. I time my approach, weaving through the crowd until I’m behind her at the merchandise booth. She’s reaching for a Ghost poster.

I stretch past her, my chest brushing her shoulder, and grab it first.

“Hey, I was about to grab that!” She turns, and her eyes widen as they travel from my mask to my name tag. Her lips part. That subtle intake of breath, like I’ve heard through her webcam so many times.

“GhostDaddy?” Her voice trembles. “As in from TikTok?”

I nod slowly, savoring her reaction. My mask hides my smirk as I hold out the poster to her. “For a follower.”

Her fingers brush mine as she takes it, sending fire dancing across my skin. I touched these hands during our dance last night, but this feels different.

“I can’t believe it’s really you. Your videos are amazing.” She clutches the poster to her chest. “The way you break down Ghost’s tactical moves and those more sensual videos...”

“I hoped I’d run into you again after last night at the club.” Recognition flashes across her face, and her pupils dilate.

“Wait—you were—that was you? In the Ghost costume?”

“Guilty.” I tap my chest, pointing out the same detailed costume. “Thought I’d give you a preview.”

“Oh my god.” Her cheeks flush pink. “I didn’t even—this is crazy! You’re actually famous. And you totally saved me from that creep.”

She’s practically vibrating now, all excited energy and genuine enthusiasm. It’s intoxicating. This is myKira—the real her. The way she talks with her hands is intoxicating.