Chapter 8

"The Game Begins"

Valeria's POV

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I stood in my tiny apartment, staring at my laptop screen like it's about to bite me. The gala. God, I still couldn't shake that weird vibe. Ren. The way he looked at me. My body was all tense and my mind won't shut the hell up. 

The guy knows how to throw a gala, I'll give him that. Too bad he's playing his own little game with me, and I couldn't decide if I'm the pawn or the queen. I mean, he's definitely a mystery—like one of those locked, "Do Not Enter" rooms in an old haunted house. Sure, I could just leave, but where's the fun in that?

Anyway, I tried to focus. I've been digging through Ren's files like a bloodhound on steroids. The Moretti family, man—if there's a club for shady billionaires, they're top-tier members. I found a document, thick with redactions, but enough detail to make my blood run cold. Underground activities? Arms trafficking? What the actual fuck?

But before I could get too deep into it, my phone buzzed. One of those encrypted messages—great, just what I needed. A tiny part of me wanted to ignore it, but I was too damn curious. Always had been. I swiped the screen, and there it was: a simple message, but it hit harder than a punch in the gut.

"You're not alone in this. Watch your back."

What the hell? I almost laughed at the audacity. Who was playing these mind games? I'd already been tangled in enough bullshit to last a lifetime, and now someone was trying to drag me deeper into it. Oh, and by the way, I didn't like being told what to do.

"Fucking hell," I muttered, my fingers already dancing over the keyboard. "If they think they can mess with me, they've got another thing coming."

I threw the message into one of my programs, trying to trace the number. It had to be some dumb amateur, right? A wannabe hacker who thought they were all hot shit. But nope, the second I tried to trace it, the damn thing was untraceable. The fucker was good. Too good.

"Son of a bitch," I growled. I tried another tactic, running a reverse lookup, digging through every database I could find. Nothing. It was like the number was pulled out of thin air. Whoever this was, they knew exactly what they were doing.

As I sat back, pissed off and more than a little impressed, I realized something. This wasn't Ren. It couldn't be. He'd have made sure his messages were more obvious. This was someone else. Someone who wanted me to believe it was him.

I flipped open a fresh tab and pulled up Ren's latest file. I needed to keep digging. Maybe I'd get lucky and stumble on something that could help me crack this mess wide open. After all, I had a reputation to uphold.

But first, I needed a drink. A strong one.

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It had been several hours. I sat there, staring at the screen, my mind whirling with possibilities, none of them good. I couldn't believe I was even thinking this, but my gut was telling me something was off—way off. I needed to focus, so I pulled my hands from the keyboard, slumping back in my chair.

I glanced at the time on the corner of my screen. It was late. Hell, it was early morning by now. I rubbed my temples, trying to ease the tension, but it didn't work. That message was still in my head. "You won't escape." The words played over and over in my brain like an old record skipping.

Shit. I needed another drink. 

I pushed away from the desk, almost stumbling in my haste to get to the fridge. The cold air inside chilled my fingers as I grabbed the first bottle of whiskey I could find, my brain screaming for a distraction, anything to get rid of that buzzing feeling in the back of my skull. I poured myself a drink, but the burn as the liquor hit my throat didn't help.

It didn't work. Nothing worked.

I walked back to the couch, the bottle in hand, and dropped down with a heavy sigh. My fingers kept twitching at the edges of my phone, and before I even realized it, I was tapping the screen again, checking the encrypted messages. Nothing new.

I tried to steady my breathing, but the weight of the silence was suffocating. My mind kept drifting back to the door, to that strange feeling that I was being watched. What the hell was happening to me? This wasn't part of the plan. I'd never been this rattled, and damn it, I needed to stop reacting like this.

I started to think of the things I could control, the things I could track—renegade servers, digital footprints, the mess I was tangled in. I grabbed my laptop again, desperate for something I could fix. But just as I started to type, I froze.

A flash of movement outside my window caught my eye. My heart stuttered in my chest. Someone was there.

I slowly set the laptop down and walked over to the window, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. The street was dark, the shadows long and empty, but I couldn't shake the feeling that I wasn't alone. No cars passing, no sounds except the distant hum of city life. It was too quiet.

What the hell?

I pulled the curtains back just a fraction and peeked through. Nothing. Not a soul in sight.

But then I heard it— a soft knock on the door.

My blood ran cold. Not again.

I walked toward the door, every nerve in my body on alert. My hand hovered over the knob, hesitation flickering in my mind. It could be nothing. Could be someone else. But my gut said otherwise. My blood was already pumping too fast, too erratic. This feeling wasn't normal.

I knew what I had to do. And I didn't hesitate.

I moved toward the shelf by the door and pulled out my gun—a sleek, black beauty that had been with me through thick and thin. I checked the chamber, my fingers running over the cold metal. Just in case.

I'd dealt with plenty of creeps before, but this... this was different. If it was him—Ren—or someone else trying to pull some stupid stunt, they weren't getting the satisfaction of making me flinch. Not tonight. Not ever.

With my hand steady on the grip, I turned the knob slowly, my heartbeat drumming in my ears. I pushed the door open a crack, peering into the hallway. It was empty. No one. Nothing.

I exhaled, lowering the gun just a fraction. But then—

Another movement.

Too fast. Too quiet.

I couldn't help but feel like I was being played, like there was a game going on, and I was the only one who didn't know the rules. Whoever it was—whether it was Ren or someone else—I was getting sick of this shit. The uncertainty was driving me insane.

"Who the fuck is there?" I called out, trying to sound confident, even though my voice cracked, betraying the anxiety curling in my gut. No answer. Just silence.

I slammed the door shut behind me, locking it again, my hands shaking.

I stood there for a moment, just breathing. I wasn't crazy. I knew I saw something. And now I was more convinced than ever that whoever had been messing with me had their eyes on me. The tension was thick, heavy in the air, but I couldn't afford to let it consume me. I needed to stay focused.

I sat back down, my hands trembling as I reached for my phone, checking it once more. My fingers flew over the screen, trying to trace the origin of the damn messages. But nothing. The number was untraceable. No clues. No nothing. It was like whoever was behind this was a ghost, slipping through the cracks in the system.

"Fuck!" I muttered, throwing the phone down onto the couch. The damn hacker was smarter than me.

But I wasn't giving up.

I couldn't.

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Lorenzo's POV

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I was sitting at my desk, my fingers tapping against the edge of my keyboard, but my mind was elsewhere. Vee. Her eyes—those damn eyes. There was something in them. A challenge. A puzzle. Something I shouldn't have wanted to solve, but god, there I was, obsessing over it. I hated it. I hated that she was still in my head.

It had been hours since the gala, and every minute that passed, I felt like I was losing control. Her face kept popping up in my thoughts, her smile, her laugh, the way she had looked at me as though she knew exactly what I was thinking, as though she could see right through me.

There was a darkness in her. I could feel it. It wasn't just in her eyes—it was in the way she carried herself. Confident. But guarded. Like she was hiding something, and I wasn't sure whether she was the type to let me figure it out, or the type who'd bury it so deep I'd never find it.

I should have just let her go. Forgotten her. That was what I told myself every time her image popped into my head. But it was like a goddamn magnet pulling me back, and I was powerless to resist. It wasn't just physical attraction. No. It was... it was the challenge she represented. The way she moved, the way she talked, the things she didn't say. She was a walking contradiction—a riddle wrapped in a mystery I couldn't seem to crack. And it was driving me insane.

But the thing was, I hated how much it was driving me. I hated that she had lodged herself in my mind like this, twisting my thoughts. This wasn't supposed to happen. I didn't get attached. I didn't let people in. Especially not people like her.

I leaned back in my chair, fingers still tapping rhythmically on the desk. The buzz of my phone broke through my spiraling thoughts, pulling me back into reality. I swiped the screen, not surprised to see another encrypted message waiting for me. Whoever had been behind this knew how to push my buttons. And I had no idea if it was a warning, a game, or something more sinister.

But Vee? The way she was still lingering in my mind—it was like I couldn't escape her. I hated that I was letting her get to me. And even more, I hated that part of me didn't want to stop.

I pulled the files up again, searching for any trace of her involvement. Not that I wanted her to be connected to whatever this was. But damn, if she was—if she was tangled in this mess...

The messages kept coming, like clockwork. Each one was a deeper dive into my head. It was almost as if whoever had been sending them knew how to read me, knew how to manipulate my thoughts. I stared at the last one. 

"The game's just started." 

It made my blood run cold, but it also thrilled me in a way I couldn't quite explain. The problem was, it felt too personal, too tailored.

The more I tried to pull away, the harder it got. And then the thought hit me—What if it was her? What if she had been behind this all along? No. I shut that thought down instantly. She wasn't some amateur hacker or whoever the hell was behind this. She wasn't the one sending these messages.

But that nagging feeling didn't leave. It followed me, echoing through my thoughts, clawing at the back of my mind. I needed to know what she was hiding.

And now I was starting to wonder—Was I chasing her? Or was she chasing me?

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˗ˏˋ Author's note ˎˊ˗

Heyy (✿◡‿◡)

Phew!! That was a loooonggg one!! Do you like where this is heading?

I wrote like half of the chapter in present tense without realizing. Had to rewrite all that again. Fun. ᕦ(ò_óˇ)ᕤ

Anyways, Your vote and comment makes another person's day!

Question of chapter:

Who's your favourite Harry Potter Character?

I'm assuming everyone know, cause like Hello!!! Harry Potter? Who the hell doesn't know Harry Potter??

Mine's Sirius. If we are talking about the Murderer's era (did I spell that correct?), then again Sirius, duhhh and maybe James as well. But then how can we ignore our wolfy Remus! Ughh, these people are FINE!!! Apart form the rat ~_~

Comment ><

See you next Sunday!

Keep smiling. You pretty smile will make another person's day <3

Izel

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