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KIRA

T he coffee shop buzzes with normal life—people ordering lattes, typing on laptops, and meeting friends. I wrap my hands around my mug, absorbing its warmth while ignoring Ryker's third notification in the last hour.

Are you safe?

Did you arrive?

Remember our agreement.

My fingers hover over the screen. A week ago, I was his captive. Now I'm his... what? Girlfriend? Partner? The woman who chose to stay with her kidnapper?

The bell above the door jingles. I look up, and there's Jenna—my best friend who has no idea where I've been for the last two weeks. Her blonde hair is pulled back in a messy bun, dark circles under her eyes. When she spots me, her face transforms through shock, anger, and relief.

"Kira?" Her voice breaks. "Oh my god."

She rushes over, nearly knocking over my chair as she hugs me. Her familiar coconut shampoo and that perfume she's worn since college bring tears to my eyes.

"Where the fuck have you been?" She pulls back, gripping my shoulders. "I filed a missing person report. The police searched. Your face is on flyers all over town."

My cheeks burn. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry? You disappeared in the middle of GamerCon without a word. Your phone was dead. No one could reach you." Her eyes narrow. "Are those new clothes?"

I glance down at the soft cashmere sweater Ryker bought me. "I can explain."

Can I, though? How do I tell her that I'm living with the man who kidnapped me? When I'm away from him, my skin crawls with need. That sometimes I wake in the night, reaching for him, panicking when he's not there?

"I met someone," I whisper.

"At GamerCon? And you just... left with him? Without telling me?"

I nod, the lie is easier than the truth. Is it Stockholm syndrome that makes me check my phone again? Is it brainwashing that makes me crave the safety of Ryker's arms, his compound?

Or is it something real—the connection we forged through those twisted "levels," how he sees the darkness in me and loves it anyway? Or even the connection we forged over two years of gaming together.

"Kira." Jenna's voice pulls me back. "What's going on with you? This isn't like you at all."

"I met Rogue," I blurt out, my hands fidgeting with my coffee mug. "He actually came to GamerCon."

Jenna's eyebrows shoot up. "What?"

"Yeah, and get this—he was that guy. From the club. The one who wouldn't talk to me." The lie flows easier than I expected, weaving truth with fiction. "He wanted to surprise me. That's why he never spoke at the club—he didn't want to give away his voice that I'd recognize from our sessions."

"That's..." Jenna's face scrunches up. "That's honestly creepy as hell, Kira. He stalked you at a club before the convention?"

"No, it wasn't like that." I feel heat rise to my cheeks. "It was sweet. He wanted our first meeting to be special."

Jenna looks unconvinced. "There's nothing sweet about a guy following you around and planning some elaborate reveal."

"He was a Ghost cosplayer," I continue, desperate to make this sound romantic instead of terrifying. "After he showed me who he was, he asked me on a date. Turns out he's loaded, like, seriously wealthy. He has this amazing place in the woods near the ocean."

I take a sip of my coffee, avoiding her eyes. "Everything happened so fast. He whisked me away, and I got caught up in everything. I'm sorry I didn't call. It was this whole whirlwind thing."

Jenna stares at me for a long moment, her expression shifting between concern and disbelief. She toys with the cardboard sleeve on her cup.

"So this guy—your gaming buddy—turns out to be some secret billionaire who's been following you to clubs, and then he reveals himself at the convention and sweeps you off to his mansion?" Her voice is flat. "And you didn't think once to text me, other than that very cryptic text that you were okay?"

"I know how it sounds," I mumble.

"Do you?" Jenna leans forward. "Because it sounds like you're not telling me everything or dating a stalker."

I sigh, picking at the cardboard sleeve on my cup. "Look, I get it. He's intense. Maybe a little stalkerish if you want to call it that." I meet Jenna's eyes. "But we've been gaming together for two years, Jenna. Two years. I know the real him, not just some surface-level stuff."

Jenna's expression doesn't soften. "Online isn't real life, Kira. We've talked about this."

"I know, but..." I pause, remembering Ryker's hands on my skin, his voice in my ear, the way he seemed to know exactly what I needed before I did. "The chemistry was exactly the same in person. Better, even. It was like we'd been together forever. I couldn't help myself."

My phone buzzes again. I glance down to see another text from Ryker.

I miss you. Come home soon.

Something warm unfurls in my chest at the word "home."

"You're different," Jenna says. "There's something you're not telling me."

I take a deep breath. "I know this is crazy and fast, and you're worried. But I'm happy, Jenna. Happier than I've been in a long time."

Jenna's shoulders slump slightly. She doesn't fully buy my story—there are too many holes and unanswered questions. But I also see the relief in her eyes that I'm safe and sitting across from her again.

"You should meet him," I suggest, the words tumbling out before I can reconsider. Ryker and I hadn't discussed this. "Come over for dinner. Make up your own mind about him."

Jenna's expression shifts from concern to surprise. "You want me to meet him? Really?"

I nod, even as anxiety twists through my stomach. Ryker hadn't approved this. We have rules now—agreements about what I can share and who can know about us. But I need someone from my old life to see us together, to witness that there's something real between us.

"Yeah. This weekend maybe? He's a great cook."

Jenna studies me, suspicion still evident in her narrowed eyes. "And he'd be okay with that? Just like that? Me showing up?"

I swallow hard and glance at my phone. Another message has appeared.

I guess you’re still at the coffee shop. Everything okay?

Is he monitoring me right now?

The coffee shop has security cameras—of course he's monitoring them. This knowledge should terrify me, but it feels like being wrapped in a protective blanket.

"I'll ask him," I say, my fingers typing a response. "But I think he'll say yes. He knows how important you are to me."

That much is true. Ryker knows everything about me—my friendship with Jenna, our games as kids, and our college adventures. He'd extracted every detail during those "levels," leaving nothing private.

"Okay," Jenna says slowly. "If he agrees, I'll come. But Kira—" she reaches across the table and grabs my hand, squeezing it tight, "—if anything feels wrong, if you need help, you can tell me. Anything. I'll believe you."

The concern in her eyes makes my throat tighten. If she only knew what I've been through—what I've chosen.

"I know," I whisper, squeezing her hand back.

My phone buzzes with Ryker's reply, and I hold my breath as I read it.

Fine. Saturday at 7. I'll cook something suitable.

The terseness of his message tells me everything I need to know. He's not happy about this arrangement, but he's allowing it for me.

"He says yes," I tell Jenna, trying to sound casual despite the tension knotting in my stomach. "Saturday at seven?"

Jenna nods. "I'll be there. Text me the address?"

I hesitate. Ryker's compound is secluded—intentionally so. "He'll probably send a car for you. It's kind of remote."

"Of course it is," Jenna mutters, rolling her eyes. "Your mysterious boyfriend lives in a remote mansion. Totally normal."

As we finish our coffee, discussing safer topics like her job and the latest gaming news, I can't stop my mind from racing ahead to Saturday night. Ryker and Jenna are in the same room. My past and present are colliding in ways I never imagined possible.

How will they interact? Ryker can be charming when he wants to be—I've seen him slip into that mask effortlessly. But Jenna knows me better than anyone. She'll be analyzing his every move and looking for red flags.

What if she somehow senses what's underneath? What if she looks at us together and sees not a whirlwind romance but a prisoner and her captor?

Jenna has always been perceptive. She knew when I was lying about finishing assignments in college and when I was upset, even before I did. If anyone could see through the facade Ryker and I have constructed, it's her.

But even more terrifying—what if she sees the truth? That part of me has embraced this captivity. That somewhere between level one and seven, I stopped fighting and started accepting. Not just Ryker, but my true self.