Page 7

7

RYKER

I clench my jaw as Kira stumbles into another taxi with her friend Jenna. Seeing other men gawking at her at the club made my blood boil. I couldn’t risk speaking more than a few words to her on the dance floor because she’d recognize my voice from our gaming sessions. But feeling her body against mine, knowing she had no idea who I was... the power was intoxicating.

“Follow that cab,” I tell my driver, adjusting the Ghost mask in my jacket pocket and tightening my grip on my suit bag, which houses my cosplay outfit. The voice modulator sits ready, though I won’t need it unless I make my presence known.

My fingers drum against my phone screen as I track her location through the spyware I installed. The blue dot moves steadily across the map. She’s heading to Neon, that new club downtown. The security there is a joke. I’ve already mapped every exit, blind spot, and surveillance camera in preparation for the convention.

“Should’ve stayed home, Mischief,” I mutter, remembering how she felt in my arms. She melted against me, unaware that her online teammate, Rogue, was there. The same man who made her obediently come undone with my voice.

The taxi pulls up half a block from Neon. Kira and Jenna join the line, their laughter carrying across the street. My hands curl into fists. Tomorrow is the convention, and I can finally drop this charade and claim what’s mine.

For now, I’ll stick to the shadows. Make sure no one else touches her. These clubs are full of predators who don’t deserve to breathe the same air as her.

I slip away from the crowd and locate the men’s restroom in the back corner of the club. Perfect timing—it’s empty. I lock the main door, place my suit bag on the hook, and unzip it carefully. The Ghost cosplay I’ve spent over a year getting right waits inside, every detail accurate.

First, I pull out the compression shirt with tactical padding sewn in to enhance my already muscular frame. The material hugs my skin as I strip off my club shirt and replace it with the base layer of my costume. Next come the custom tactical pants and boots—each piece selected to match Ghost’s appearance while maintaining full mobility. I need to be able to move quickly when the moment comes.

“Perfect,” I muse, examining my reflection in the bathroom mirror.

The voice modulator is a military-grade engineering masterpiece with my own modifications. I position it carefully against my throat, securing the nearly invisible band around my neck. A quick test confirms it’s working, dropping my voice to the British growl Ghost is known for.

“Mischief,” I test, hearing the character’s British accent emerge from my throat. The same voice that will soon command her every move.

Finally, the mask. I lift it from its protective wrapping—a replica of Ghost’s skull face covering. I’ve tested it dozens of times in my apartment, ensuring peripheral vision isn’t compromised. The mask slides into place, completing my transformation.

I stare at myself in the large mirror. Ghost looks back at me, and it isn’t just a costume—it’s who I am beneath the surface. The predator. The watcher. The one who will claim what belongs to him.

When I return to the main club, Kira’s at the bar with Jenna, laughing over some shared joke. My fingers twitch, remembering how her hips felt when we danced, but I can’t risk touching her again tonight. One slip, one wrong move, and she might connect the dots between the stranger at the club and her gaming partner.

I position myself in a dark corner with a good view without being obvious. The mask helps since plenty of cosplayers hit the clubs before conventions. I’m just another fan getting into character early.

A guy in a leather jacket approaches the table they’ve just found. My jaw clenches as he leans close to Kira, trying to get her attention. She shakes her head, but he persists.

My hand slides into my pocket, touching my phone. One tap and I could trigger the fire alarm and clear the club, but there’s a part of me that wants blood.

The leather jacket guy’s hand reaches for Kira’s arm. My vision goes red. Six quick strides and I’m there, my fingers wrapping around his wrist before he touches her.

“She said no.” The voice modulator turns my words into Ghost’s signature rasp.

Kira’s eyes go wide as she takes in the mask. Her lips part in a soft gasp that makes my cock harden. Even in the club’s dim lighting, I catch the flush spreading across her cheeks.

“What the fuck, man?” Leather jacket tries to yank free, but I squeeze harder. The bones in his wrist grind together.

“Leave.” I lean close, letting him see the promise of violence behind the mask’s eyeholes. “Now.”

He stumbles back when I release him, nursing his wrist. Smart choice. Another minute and I might have snapped it.

“Oh my God, that costume is amazing!” Kira’s voice draws my attention back where it belongs. Her eyes sparkle with excitement as she takes in every detail of the mask. “The voice is amazing, too. Are you going to GamerCon?”

I nod, keeping my responses minimal. Even with the modulator, too much talking risks revealing my identity.

“You have to let me take a picture!” She’s already reaching for her phone, but I catch her hand. Her skin is soft, warm. Mine.

I shake my head slowly. Playing mysterious. Making her want more.

“No pictures?” Her lower lip juts out in a pout that makes me want to bite it. “At least tell me if you’ll be at the convention. I’m cosplaying as Aloy!”

“I’ll be there.” The modulator transforms my natural voice into Ghost’s signature rasp. My fingers still tingle from touching her skin. “Wouldn’t miss seeing that Aloy cosplay.”

I smile behind the mask, mentally reviewing my layered plan for GamerCon.

“Can I buy you a drink?” Kira leans closer, her perfume mixing with the sweet scent of whatever cocktail she’s already had. “To thank you for handling that creep?”

I shake my head. “I don’t drink, but I’ll get you whatever you’d like.”

Jenna shifts in her seat, eyeing me with suspicion. Good. At least one of them has survival instincts. But Kira’s already sliding her empty glass forward.

“Surprise me,” she says with a grin that makes my cock throb. “Something sweet?”

I signal the waitress, ordering a drink I know she’ll love—vanilla vodka and passion fruit. I’ve memorized every detail about her, including her drink preferences from her social posts.

“You’re not much for words, are you?” She takes a sip of her drink when it arrives. “Very in character.”

I lean against the table, enjoying her gaze drifting to my body. She has no idea she’s already seen me without a shirt through all those TikTok videos I post as GhostDaddy. She has no idea that just hours ago, I watched her come for me through her webcam.

“Words are overrated.” I let my modulated voice drop lower. “Actions matter more.”

“God, that voice.” She visibly shudders. “It’s exactly like in the game. Did you modify a real modulator or is it custom?”

“Custom.” I resist the urge to tell her exactly how many hours I spent on it just for her. “Everything I do is custom.”

Her cheeks flush at the implication. Even in the club’s dim lighting, I can see her pupils dilate. She’s aroused. Wanting. And she doesn’t even know who’s really behind this mask.

Jenna shifts forward in her seat, physically inserting herself between Kira and me. Her eyes narrow behind her glasses as she studies my mask.

“That’s an awful lot of effort for a costume,” she says, voice sharp with suspicion. “Most people just buy them from Amazon.”

I shrug, keeping my posture relaxed despite the urge to shove her aside. “I take pride in authenticity.”

“Right.” She turns to Kira. “We should probably head out. Early morning tomorrow, remember?”

Kira pouts. “Just a few more minutes? He saved me from that creep.”

“Which is great, but now he’s hovering.” Jenna’s hand wraps around Kira’s wrist. “And you’ve had enough to drink.”

My fingers twitch at the sight of someone else touching what’s mine, but I force them to stay loose at my sides. Can’t break character. Can’t let the mask slip.

“I’m just being friendly,” Kira protests.

“You’re being naive.” Jenna stands, tugging Kira up with her. “No offense, but masked strangers in clubs aren’t exactly safe bets. Even if they have great costumes.”

I incline my head, acknowledging her point while seething inside. If she only knew how many hours I’ve spent protecting Kira from real threats. How many stalkers and perverts I’ve blocked from her social media and gaming platforms before she even saw them.

“Thanks for the drink,” Kira says, apologetically smiling. “Maybe I’ll see you at the convention?”

“Count on it.” The modulator turns my words into a growl that makes her shiver.

Jenna practically drags her away, throwing one last suspicious glance over her shoulder. Smart girl. Too smart. She might be a problem when the time comes.

But for now, I let them go. Three days until the convention. Let Jenna play protector. Soon enough, Kira won’t need anyone else’s protection. She’ll have mine. Forever.