Page 56

“What’s level five?” My voice sounds weak.

His mouth curves into that half-smile that makes my stomach flip despite everything. “Shower first. Then food.” He stands, creating distance between us. “You need your energy.”

The implications hang heavy in the air between us. I wrap my arms around myself, suddenly conscious of my nakedness in a way I wasn’t moments ago.

Ryker moves toward the door, each step measured and controlled. At the threshold, he pauses, looking back at me over his shoulder. I catch a glimpse of uncertainty in his expression.

“Take your time,” he says finally. “I’ll be waiting.”

Then he’s gone, the door closing softly behind him. The silence he leaves behind feels oppressive.

I stayed frozen on the bed for several minutes, trying to untangle the knot of emotions inside me: fear, desire, confusion, and anticipation.

Level five.

I force myself to stand on shaky legs and go to the bathroom. Whatever comes next, at least I’ll face it clean.

19

RYKER

Istand at the doorway to the forest clearing, surveying my creation with pride. Levels five, six, and seven are my masterpiece—three acres of carefully designed wilderness on my property, transformed into the ultimate hunting ground. Every tree and shadow has been considered.

The morning dew glistens on the trip wires I’ve installed between the pines. She won’t see them. Not with her heart racing, not with me on her tail. My fingertips find the pressure plate hidden beneath a thin layer of soil—when triggered, it’ll release a net from above, designed to ensnare without injury.

I’ve built this place for us. She doesn’t understand yet that the hunt makes the capture sweeter.

I check my watch. Almost time. My body tightens at the thought of Kira running through these woods, naked and afraid. The prior levels were necessary—breaking her expectations, testing her loyalty, pushing her boundaries. But this... this is where fantasy and reality truly merge.

“What are you thinking about?”

I turn to find Kira standing behind me, wrapped in the robe I provided and wearing the hiking shoes. The sight of her quickens my pulse. She’s showered, her hair still damp, and her skin flushed. The marks I left on her throat are visible above the collar.

“The next three levels,” I answer honestly, reaching for the bow I’ve placed against a nearby tree. Not lethal—specially designed with rubber-tipped arrows that will sting but not penetrate. “The next three days, I will hunt you through these woods.”

Her eyes widen, fear and disbelief flashing across her face. She takes an instinctive step back, her breathing quickening as she processes my words.

“There’s more to this setup than you realize,” I tell her, as she scans the forest borders. “Look closer.” I gesture to the tree line where I’ve strategically placed three survival tents, barely visible against the autumn foliage. Each is stocked differently—one with water, another with basic medical supplies, and the third with a sleeping bag and thermal blanket.

“I’ve hidden shelters throughout these woods. Some obvious, others... less so.” Pride swells in my chest as I think about the hollowed tree trunk I spent weeks carving out, the small cave entrance disguised with brambles, the elevated platform twenty feet up that blends with the branches.

“And the food?” Her voice holds a tremor.

“Scattered everywhere. Protein bars wrapped in waterproof packaging. Jerky hanging in trees. Even a few MREs buried where rainwater naturally collects.” I’ve mapped it all and memorized every cache location. Some are easy finds—a deliberate trail of disturbed soil leading to buried supplies. Others require true survival instinct.

“Three days is generous, don’t you think?” She’s trying to understand my game, my purpose.

I step closer, breathing in her clean scent. “Three days gives you hope. Hope makes you fight harder and think clearer.” I won’t mention how I’ve studied the psychological impact of time frames on captives—too short, and they give up; too long, and despair sets in. Three days is just right—long enough to believe escape is possible.

“The property line—” she begins.

“Extends for miles,” I cut in. “And every inch is secured.” She doesn’t know the invisible perimeter I’ve created—motion sensors that alert my phone, tripwires connected to alarms, cameras disguised as bird nests. Beyond that, a reinforced fence buried three feet into the ground and extending twelve feet high, obscured by vegetation cultivated for years before I owned the property.

“Even if you reached the boundary, you couldn’t cross it.” I’ve ensured that. An electric current runs through the metal mesh. Barbed wire coiled at the top. “But that’s part of the challenge, isn’t it? Finding the edges of your world.”

Her brow furrows, that little crease I’ve seen countless times when she’s concentrating during our online matches. She’s calculating, strategizing—exactly what I want.

“What happens if you catch me?” she asks, and my body responds instantly.