Page 97 of Forgotten Sacrifice

“Parlor tricks and big tits,” Wesley says to his manager, unaware he’s being captured on video. Both men chuckle.

“I swear to God, it’s like we’re still in high school. Everyone’s watching this video in the hallway,” Bridget warns me. “That’s why I thought you’d want a heads up.”

“I’m glad you showed me. Do you have a permanent marker?” I hand Bridget her phone back.

“I saw one in the skittles room across the hall. Be right back.”

She returns with the marker, and I remove my undershirt, getting to work.

“Are you about to do what Ithinkyou’re about to do?” Bridget asks with mouth agape.

“Only if I make it to the final round.”

“Please, God, let her make it to the final round.” She holds her hands together in prayer.

Forget God; I’m making it to the final round out of pure spite.

Chapter

Thirty-Seven

Vince

Luna’s advanced to the third round, her opponent the little bitch who’s daddy hired the private investigator. Before the game commences, Aspen waves over an arbiter, and there’s a discussion. I’m too far away to hear what’s being said, but the tournament director’s flagged down.

There’s a back and forth, and Luna unfastens her moon pendant, handing it over. The director runs a radio-frequency device over her necklace, and I feel like the biggest asshole in the world. Any suspicion cast on Luna is one-hundred percent my fault, but I still might kill this little bitch and her father.

The necklace is handed back to Luna, and she fastens it around her neck—her hands trembling ever so slightly. Dammit, this has thrown her off her game. No,I’vethrown her off her game.

The game progresses, and I watch in horror as Luna enters into a draw with Aspen.

Luna silently walks off the floor, and her coach and I hurry to catch up with her.

“What happened to you?” Luna’s coach demands when we enter the skittles room; no idea why it’s called that.

“Him.” She points at me with venom in her eyes. “I want him gone.”

“You heard her. Out,” the coach says to me.

She crosses her arms. “Not gone from this room; gone from this venue.”

“Luna,” I start, but quickly realize I have nothing to say. No platitude. No maximum. No joke. No defense. “Alright, I’ll go. I’ll be back to get you?—”

“Don’t bother. I’ll take the train.”

I want to shout. I want to punch something. I want to kill someone.

I do none of those things. Instead, I nod and walk out.

Luna

After my embarrassing blunder in my game with Aspen that lead to a draw, I’ve turned it around in back to back wins. Looking at the scoreboard, there’s now a little GM designation beside my name. Why I’m not more happy about it, I have Vince and Grandmaster Wesley Morrell to thank. The former I’ve kicked out, and the latter, I’m about to take down.

I smile politely, extending my hand, and Wesley gives me a patronizing smile, glancing down to my tits as we shake.

The game commences with the grandmaster opening withthe move Vince gave the highest probability: the Queen’s Gambit.

Hate when that man’s right.