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KIRA

T he rise and fall of Ryker’s chest as he sleeps beside me is steady. My fingers twitch with the urge to track the lines of his face, the sharp curve of his jaw, the fullness of his bottom lip. Something inside me aches when I’m not touching him, like withdrawal from the most potent drug.

Was this the plan all along? Each level breaking down another wall until I couldn’t tell where my desires ended and his manipulation began? The thought should terrify me, make me want to run. I don’t, though. I shift closer, drawn to his warmth like a moth to flame.

What came next I never would have expected, let alone believed. “I love you,” he said. Those three words echo in my mind, bouncing against memories of our gaming sessions, his voice in my headset guiding me through digital battlefields. Rogue and Mischief, our online personas connected in ways our physical selves never could—until now.

My gaze falls on the tattoos on his skin, lingering on the ghost mask over his heart. For me. Before he even met me. The thought sends a shiver down my spine that isn’t entirely unpleasant.

Light filters through the curtains, casting shadows across his face. God, he’s beautiful. Not just handsome, beautiful in that dangerous way that makes a deep want stir. The sharp planes of his cheekbones, the dark sweep of his lashes, the slight curve of his lips even in sleep.

I know him. I’ve known him for over two years, laughing with him, strategizing with him, sharing pieces of myself I never shared with anyone else. If that was real—if any of it was—then maybe...

This man beside me is Rogue. My gaming partner. My confidant.

My soulmate who took the most fucked-up route imaginable to be with me.

I stare at the ceiling, my thoughts spinning like loading screens between game levels. Why? The question burns through me more intensely than any physical sensations my body has endured. I wanted to meet him. For so long, I dreamed about the face behind the voice that guided me through digital battlefields. If he’d just come to GamerCon as Rogue, I would have fallen for him instantly.

I would have given him my number, my time, and my body. I would have offered freely everything he’s taken now.

I would have been his. I was already his in so many ways before he ever touched me.

So why all this? The kidnapping. The games. The fear and pain and twisted pleasure. Why build a maze when the door was already unlocked? More importantly, how do I forgive his actions?

Beside me, the sheets rustle. Ryker shifts, his eyes opening to find mine already on him. Sleep softens the sharp edges of his face, making him look almost innocent. Almost kind, if I didn’t already have so much evidence to the contrary.

“What are you thinking about?” His voice is rough with sleep, fingers reaching to brush a strand of hair from my face. “You look miles away.”

For a moment, I consider lying and telling him what he wants to hear, but I can’t. Some hidden and dark part of me has broken open inside—maybe it’s the need for freedom, the need to no longer have to hide.

“I don’t understand why you did all this.” The words tumble out in earnest. “I would have dated you if you’d come to GamerCon. If you’d approached me as Rogue, the person I gamed with for over two years, I would have been yours willingly.” I swallow hard. “I already was yours, in a way. So why the kidnapping? Why the fear, the torture, and the pain? Why did you choose the hardest possible path to something that could have been so simple?”

I hold my breath, noticing uncertainty flicker across Ryker’s face.

He sits up slowly, sheet pooling around his waist, revealing more intricate tattoos. A storm gathers in his expression.

“Simple? Nothing about this—about us—could ever be simple, Kira.” His voice drops lower. “You think I could just walk up to you at GamerCon and say ‘Hi, I’m Rogue’ and everything would fall into place?”

He laughs, but there’s no humor in it. The sound scrapes against my skin.

“People like you don’t end up with people like me in the real world. Not without intervention.” His fingers trace patterns on the sheet between us. “I needed to plan every variable, every possible outcome. Your first impression, environment, and options had to be perfect for the desired outcome.”

His hands clench into fists, then relax with deliberate effort.

“My whole life has been chaos. Unpredictable. Painful.” Something flashes across his face. “I can’t survive more randomness. More chance. More failure.”

He looks directly at me now, his gaze intense enough to burn.

“Meeting at GamerCon meant leaving too much to chance. What if you saw me and felt nothing? What if someone else caught your attention? What if you rejected me?” The thought seems to physically pain him. “I needed to create an environment where our interaction followed my design. Where I could test your reactions, your limits... where I could be sure there was no other option.”

His hand reaches toward my face but stops short of touching me.

“The world doesn’t give people like me second chances. So I had to make sure I didn’t need one.”

I study his face as he speaks, how his hands move with precise, contained motions. And suddenly, I see it—beyond the kidnapper, beyond the obsessive stalker, beyond the dominant man who’s terrorized and pleasured me in equal measure. I see the scared little boy forced to watch his father play for hours, beaten if he looked away. The child who ran to libraries and internet cafes to escape the nightmare of his home.

“You’re still that frightened boy,” I whisper, the realization hitting me with unexpected force. “The one your father hurt. The one who had to control everything because nothing in your life was ever safe or predictable.”

A helpless vulnerability flickers across his face, making my chest ache. For a moment, Ryker’s calculating predator mask slips to reveal a brokenness.

“Was any of it real?” I ask suddenly, my voice trembling. “When we were just Rogue and Mischief... all those late nights gaming, all those conversations... Was that real? Or was it just part of your plan?”

He looks away, and I think I see shame on his face for the first time.

“That was real, Kira.” His voice is rough but low, almost inaudible. “All of it. Those nights gaming with you were the only real thing in my life.”

When he meets my gaze again, there’s a vulnerability there.

“I was drawn to you through your voice, your laugh, the way you’d curse when you missed a shot.” A ghost of a smile touches his lips. “After about a month of gaming with you every night, I was obsessed. I needed to know more. See more. Have more.”

His fingers bridge the gap between us, tracing the curve of my cheek with heartbreaking gentleness.

“Those conversations weren’t manipulation. They were the only time I wasn’t manipulating anyone. The only time I was just me.”

His confession hangs in the air between us. For the first time since this twisted journey began, I feel like I’m seeing the real Ryker—not Rogue, not my kidnapper, but the man beneath all those carefully constructed layers of torment and manipulation.

“What do you actually do?” I ask. “For work, I mean. You always mention meetings, but...” I trail off, realizing how little I know about his real life despite how intimately he knows mine.

A strange look crosses his face—almost amusement. “You’re asking about my job? Now?”

I shrug, suddenly feeling foolish. “You said you worked for a tech firm, but that’s all I know. I just... I want to learn more about you.”

Ryker’s lips curve into a smile that transforms his entire face. He reaches over to the nightstand for his phone.

“I don’t work for a tech firm. I own one.” His fingers dance across the screen before he hands me the phone. “KentSec Systems. I founded it six years ago.”

I stare at the Forbes article on his screen, my eyes widening as I scan the headline: “KentSec Systems CEO Ryker Kent Makes Forbes 30 Under 30: The Security Genius Reshaping Cybersecurity.” The photo shows Ryker in a tailored dark suit, looking polished and professional—worlds away from the tattooed, intense man beside me.

“You own a multi-million dollar company?” I whisper, scrolling through the article detailing his company’s groundbreaking cybersecurity protocols and their contracts with major corporations and government agencies.

“Tech security was always my specialty,” he says with a casualness that doesn’t match the magnitude of what I’m reading. “People will pay a lot to protect their digital assets.”

I glance from the phone to Ryker, connecting the dots that should have been obvious. His technical knowledge, sophisticated surveillance, and ability to hack into my apartment systems make horrifying, impressive sense.

“So all those ‘meetings’ you’d disappear for during our gaming sessions...”

“Running a company,” he confirms. “Though I’d have skipped every single one if I could’ve stayed online with you.”

I set the phone down, my mind racing with this new information. “But if you’re the CEO of this massive company, how are you even here right now? Who’s running things while you’re...” I gesture vaguely at our surroundings, not sure how to describe this bizarre situation we’re in.

Ryker leans back against the headboard, a wry smile on his lips. “My COO isn’t exactly thrilled. Damien’s been blowing up my phone for days.” He runs a hand through his sleep-tousled hair. “I told him I’m taking a much-needed vacation. First one in six years.”

“A vacation,” I repeat flatly, trying to process everything. “That’s what you’re calling this?”

“The most important one of my life.”

I stare at him, this enigma of a man who manages to be both terrifying and vulnerable in the same breath. The successful tech CEO. The gaming partner I’d spent countless nights talking with. The man who kidnapped me and built a maze to hunt me in.

“I don’t understand,” I say, my voice small in the quiet room. “Why me? It makes no sense.”

His brow furrows slightly.

“Look at you,” I continue, gesturing at him. “You’re gorgeous. You’re literally a millionaire CEO. You could have any woman you want with a smile and a credit card.” The truth of it burns in my chest. “Why would someone like you think you’d need to kidnap someone like me to have her? I just... I can’t understand that.”

The intensity of his stare makes me want to look away, but I force myself to hold his gaze, needing to hear his answer almost as much as I fear it.

Ryker’s expression shifts. “Any woman I want?” His voice drops an octave. “You think I want someone else? That I’ve ever wanted anyone else since I found you?”

He moves closer, the heat of his body radiating against mine. I press back against the headboard, suddenly aware of my vulnerability.

“I’ve fucked other women, yes. Before you. Meaningless encounters to satisfy basic needs.” His touch along my collarbone is featherlight. “But I’ve never felt this connection. This absolute certainty.”

The intensity in his gaze makes my breath catch. There’s no calculation now, just pure emotion that’s almost painful to witness.

“You’re the only one, Kira. The only one who’s ever mattered. The only one who ever will.” His hand cups my face with surprising gentleness. “You’re the most beautiful girl on the planet. The only one I see.”

A nervous laugh escapes me before I can stop it. The idea is absurd—me, the most beautiful girl on the planet? I’ve spent my whole life being told I wasn’t enough, wasn’t thin enough, wasn’t pretty enough.

In an instant, his hand is around my throat, not squeezing but firmly holding, his thumb pressed against my pulse point. The laughter dies in my throat.

“Don’t,” he growls, his face inches from mine. “Don’t you dare laugh at that. It’s the truth, and I don’t want to hear anything contrary.”

His grip is firm, not cutting off my air but reminding me of his strength, his dominance. My pulse races against his palm.

“I’ve seen the most ‘beautiful’ women worldwide, Kira. Models, actresses, billionaires’ wives, and girlfriends. None of them compare to you.” His grip relaxes slightly. “Not one.”

His words leave me breathless, more than his hand around my throat ever could. The conviction in his voice and the absolute certainty in his eyes pierce me deeply.

“No one has ever called me beautiful before,” I whisper, the words scraping against my throat. “Not the same way you mean it.”

His grip on my throat loosens, but his gaze intensifies.

“I’m just... average. Average weight, average face, average everything.” The confession hurts more than I expected. “I’ve spent my whole life being the girl guys settle for when they can’t get the pretty one. The one people call ‘cute’ but never ‘hot.’ The one with the ‘nice personality.’”

My voice breaks on the last words. Years of subtle rejections and backhanded compliments have left their mark; not all scars are on the outside. I’m not sure if the ones inside ever truly heal.

Ryker’s hand slides from my throat to cup my face, his thumb brushing away a tear I didn’t realize had fallen.

“Then everyone who’s ever looked at you was fucking blind.” The intensity in his voice makes me shiver. “And I’m going to reshape your entire image of yourself until you see what I see.”

He shifts closer, his forehead almost touching mine, our breaths mingling.

“I’m going to worship every inch of you until you understand that you’re a fucking goddess.” His voice drops lower, reverential and fierce at once. “A goddess I can’t wait to spend my life on my knees worshipping.”

The sincerity in his voice unravels me anew. No one has ever wanted me like this-with this all-consuming, almost religious devotion.