Page 12 of Love Is A Draw (Check Mates #2)

With a flick of his wrist, Victor produced a folded sheet of paper and held it up for the boy to grab. Disbelief cracked across the boy’s face before he snatched the paper, lowering the knife an inch in confusion.

Victor lunged forward. He wrenched the knife free of the boy’s grip with frightening ease and hurled it behind him into the shadows. It clattered to the stones.

The boy recoiled. “Hey!” His growl broke with indignation as he cracked open the paper, eyes widening to its blank surface. “There’s nothing on this!”

Victor’s lips curled into a faint smirk. “Exactly. Just like your future. It’s up to you to keep it clean… or sully it further with mischief like this. Think about it.”

The boy scanned the paper and looked back at Victor, no words forming on his slack jaw. Reluctantly, his sister tugged at his arm, pulling him a step back.

Victor didn’t linger. He shrugged the satchel onto his shoulder, his features softening as he turned to Gail. “We’re finished here.” His expression carried a weight only she could see.

He extended a hand toward her, and Gail hesitated only a moment before slipping her fingers into his. Together, they left the alley behind, with only the faintest echo of “madman” drifting behind them.

It was, perhaps, not wrong. Only… brave.

Victor cherished the warmth of Gail’s hand slipped into the crook of his arm, and despite the turmoil of the last quarter-hour, a faint sense of calm settled over him.

The tension in his shoulders eased as they walked side by side, their pace slow and deliberate, as though neither had the heart to rush away from the charged silence hanging between them.

The edge of the park had fallen quieter now.

Lanterns swung gently in the breeze, casting long shadows across the gravel paths as the sun made its descent.

Above them, the first threads of twilight softened the edges of the tree line, the air cool but not biting.

Gail broke the silence first. “That was daring.”

Victor tilted his head to glance at her, a wry smile tugging at his lips. “I’m not afraid of children. I’ve faced far worse.” The words were light, but even he could hear the shadow that trailed behind them.

Her light chuckle warmed him, rising and falling like a ripple in still water. But when her laughter quieted, the weight of her words settled between them.

“I’m sorry they took your money,” he added.

She shook her head and, with a small flourish, flicked open her reticule as they walked. “Not too much.” He saw the slight crease between her brows. “They need it more than I.”

Victor frowned, his gaze lingering on the pale curves of her profile. “I’m so sorry about both parts of that.” He meant this in ways he didn’t fully understand himself—ways that extended beyond stolen coins and misplaced heirlooms.

Gail’s lips pressed into a sad line. “The comb was more precious, but they’ll never know.” Her sorrow struck somewhere deep within him.

“Silver, right?”

Gail hesitated before shaking her head. “Actually, no.”

He stopped mid-stride and turned to look at her fully, his eyebrows furrowing. “But the girl asked…”

“I didn’t confirm.” Gail’s lips curled into a small, almost mischievous smile. “I merely said I’d had it since I was a girl.”

Victor’s expression flickered from confusion to intrigue before amusement broke across it. “You bluffed.” His admiration warmed into something personal. He tilted his head, letting his grin grow wider as the realization sank in. “Well done.”

Gail’s cheeks flushed under his steady gaze.

“It is meaningful, though, even if it’s not precious.

” Her fingers traced the strap of her reticule.

“It was the comb my grandmother used, and when she passed, I received it.” She stared straight ahead, her gaze distant.

“No one thought much of it, but it was hers. That’s what mattered. ”

Victor nodded slowly, his own gaze drifting over his shoulder, back toward the shadowed streets they had left behind. “An heirloom.” He paused, weighing his next words. “Should I go back? I could try to get it back for you.”

“No!” Gail cut him off before he could move. Her hand tightened on his arm, her grip firm enough to halt him in his tracks. When he looked at her, it wasn’t the fear in her eyes that stopped him, but the quiet, unshakable resolve beneath it. “Don’t put yourself in danger for material things.”

Victor stared at her then, taking in the furrow of her brow, the tension in her shoulders, the fire tucked behind her words. It startled him, her protectiveness of him. And it mattered—more than it should have.

“I understand very well,” he said after a beat, “that there’s more to life than material things.”

But Gail didn’t leave it at that. “And yet you were willing to risk yours for a satchel full of chess notation?”

Victor’s steps faltered briefly, but he recovered quickly, his expression an unreadable mask. He hesitated momentarily, as though weighing how much to reveal. Then, without meaning to, he let the truth slip. “It’s more than that.”

Gail turned toward him, waiting—but said nothing. Her silence felt like a door left open.

He stepped through. “It’s... not just chess. There are patterns. Questions I haven’t solved yet. Every page helps me see clearer—how to think better, how to anticipate. It’s a kind of order. When everything else seems uncertain, the pages make sense.”

“One day, you want to show your teacher that you solved the puzzles?” Gail looked up at him then, eyes soft and searching.

He didn’t flinch under her scrutiny, didn’t mask the rawness in his question. “How do you know that?”

“I just understand. I have puzzles to solve, too.” Her gaze lingered on him, and he realized she didn’t just try to offer comfort. She meant it as permission . He could share more if he chose to.

They walked on for a while longer, her hand still resting lightly on his arm.

The night folded around them, quiet and serene, as the golden light of the lanterns cast gentle halos at their feet.

Victor pressed his hand against the weight of the satchel at his side, his thoughts circling both its contents and the woman walking beside him.

She had lost something tonight. A small, irreplaceable piece of her past. But she had protected him without hesitation, and he had trusted her without even realizing it.

And as they moved through the deepening twilight, he wondered whether—between what was stolen and what was offered—they had each found something even more valuable.