“And I’m sorry I ignored you when you were trying to call. I was angry.”
If his jaw had been tight before, it went even more so now, evidenced by the muscles tensing in his neck.
“That was wrong of me,” I tried again. “Lily did the right thing by calling you. I shouldn’t have let my emotions get in the way—”
“I cut you off first,” he finally said. “I don’t blame you for ignoring me.”
Okay, he was talking. That was progress.
“I shouldn’t have been,” I told him. “I put my feelings ahead of the needs of the team, and I can’t be doing that.” I paused and studied his profile for a second. If I asked, would he answer? Might as well take the chance. “What happened?”
He answered faster than I expected, as if he’d been waiting for the question.
“I just needed space. I don’t want to say that it was me and not you. But it was me, and not you.”
Okay, I had to smile at that. In fact, I don’t think I could have stopped the one that snuck across my face.
“Can I ask why you needed space?”
He rubbed his temple, like he was in pain. That was Rooke. Internalized everything. Put the weight of the world inside his head and his heart.
“No.”
“Okay.” Even in a relationship, people were entitled to their privacy and secrets. But Rooke was the type to bottle up what he shouldn’t and put way too much stress on himself instead of talking to somebody about what was wrong. Every nerve in me twitched with the desire to pull the words out of his throat myself. I practically had to sit on my hands. “I don’t understand why you started calling me again.”
More silence dominated the car until it felt like it was pressing up against the windows, the roof, and even me. The air was so thick with tension and anticipation, I half expected the glass to fog up.
“I missed you,” he finally said. “I wanted time alone, and the more of it I had, the more I felt like I needed a friend.”
Well, that was an arrow through the heart. Actually, more like an arrow tied to a cannonball that exploded on impact. What he did was a shitty thing. It was one thing to bow out politely when we had too many players for the team. But to abandon us completely when I was on the cusp of fulfilling a dream was almost unredeemable.
So, I had no idea why my hand moved toward him, but it was going, and I didn’t stop it. It came to rest on top of his. Rooke went dead still.
Honestly, I knew why I’d reached for him. He was part of my team. No matter what happened to anyone on my team, no matter what they did or didn’t do, I’d always care for them. Because we were a team, and that meant a hell of a lot more than a damaged heart.
“Whatever it was that you were dealing with,” I began, “are you okay?”
He took a breath that came up from his toes, through his entire body. Then, finally, he looked at me. His eyes were distant, foreign. His expression was strained. But where my hand rested on his, he flipped his over, so palm met palm. Our fingers touched tentatively, whispering against each other.
A faint smile touched the corners of his lips.
“I am now.”
A siren rang out.
A police motorbike swerved into the lane behind us. Another cut in front of the other car, so that the police bikes bookended our Maseratis. Their lights flashed, but our vehicle didn’t slow down, meaning they hadn’t sent out an electronic signal to pull us over. I tapped the GPS map menu in the center of the car’s console. A message popped up.
Proceed at normal speed.
You will be escorted to your destination.
“An escort?” I wondered out loud. “Why do we need a police escort?”
I caught eyes with Rooke, but he just blinked and shook his head. I scooted forward in my seat and peered ahead, out the front window. As we rounded a corner, heading higher into the Pacific Palisades district of L.A., I realized why we needed the escort.
My eyes went wide, and all the feeling drained from my extremities as I took in the sight before us.
“Holy shit.”
CHAPTER 6
The chaos started six blocks from the house.
Rows of fans lined the street, held off the road by guardrails. Policemen stalked up and down the rails, keeping the more aggressive fans on the other side. Security drones hovered between them.
“Please remain behind the guardrails.”
As our vehicle continued its slow roll through the streets and started closing in on Tamachi’s estate, the policemen morphed into private security, and the crowds grew thicker. Dozens of additional drones buzzed overhead, these belonging to the news stations and tabloids. Cameras clicked like heartbeats. Chants and cheers cut through the air. With all the news attention, the craziness of the crowd, and the level of security, you’d think this was a royal wedding or something.
I tapped the GPS map screen in the center of the car’s console, switched it over to video option, and entered the VGL’s home channel. Howie and Marcus popped up on the screen, the VGL’s main announcers. Last year, they’d become surprise allies in my fight against corruption in gaming and helped announce the issues of virtual addiction to the public, specifically calling out how our former teammate Nathan had died of a drug overdose, which had been covered up by the VGL as an undiagnosed heart condition. They were the VGL’s favorite broadcasters by a wide margin. It was probably the only reason they hadn’t been fired.
They were both wearing suits and grinning at the camera.
“It’s been an exciting evening so far,” Howie said. “Let’s take another look at the house—”
The shot changed to a drone camera flying over the house’s two-lane driveway, where one lane was filled with designer cars. Red Lamborghinis. Gold Bugattis. Judging by the fact that our vehicles matched our team color, the cars in the driveway must represent the colors of the other teams as well.
The screen cut back to Howie and Marcus. Marcus pressed a finger to his ear, like he was listening to a producer through the headset. He beamed at the camera.
“Looks like they’re about to reveal the next team.”
The screen cut to a shot at the front of the house, where a pair of jet-black Mercedes-Benz SUVs rolled up, glowing ice blue beneath. Talk about lifestyles of the rich and famous. The pair of those cars cost more than what I paid my programmers and trainers per year. Combined. Though I had to admit this was a hell of a way to reveal the teams of the all-star tournament.
Security closed in around the vehicles. Screams and camera flashes from the crowd reached a crescendo. The crowd chanted on repeat.
“Open. The. Doors.”
Security paused at the cars, double-checking each other and the status of the situation. Whether they were stalling on purpose to rev up the crowd or for reasons actually related to security, I wasn’t sure, but I was betting on the former. Finally, security reached for the handles.
The doors opened, and five men climbed out.
Screams exploded from the crowd, reaching heights never before known. The camera flashes turned into minibombs, like a war zone. On the screen inside our own vehicle, Howie and Marcus jumped out of their chairs.
My mouth hit my lap.
The entire team was dressed in black cargo pants and sleeveless, open vests, with streaks of war paint smeared across their faces, from temple to temple, right across their ice-blue eyes. I knew that look.
Everyone in the world knew that look.
“Holy shit,” I murmured, covering half my face with my hands, like a little kid watching a scary movie. Good thing no one could see how stupid I looked through the tinted windows. I peered through my fingers at Rooke beside me. He seldom wore his emotions on his face like a mask, but even his eyes were drawn wide, and a hand covered his mouth.
I announced the team even though we both knew exactly who they were
. “That’s K-Rig.”
The number one team in all of South Korea. Arguably, the number one team in the entire world. Looks like they were here to prove it.
On each of their chests was a tattoo of their team logo stretching from collarbone to abs. The logos glistened in the camera flashes as if they’d been covered in petroleum jelly for extra sheen. Judging by my time in the game, their clothing choice matched their in-game image. They never smiled or waved. Just gave straight-on death stares, so the cameras would capture perfect shots of their eyes.
Someone was already putting on a show.
Since they were of Korean descent, there was little chance those eyes of theirs were natural, especially since all five members of the team sported the exact same shade of ice blue. Contacts? Maybe. But if the rumors were to be believed, the black war paint smudged around their eyes wasn’t war paint at all. It had been tattooed as well, just like the logos on their chests, and their irises had been altered by lasers. Even in the 2050s, tattoos were still permanent and eye-color alterations couldn’t be reversed. So, if those rumors actually were true, what those guys had done to themselves for the sake of their team would be with them for life.
Was that dedication or obsession?
A few fans scaled the guardrails and charged. Security was on them in a second. Human and drone alike, they tackled the fans and dragged them away as they kicked and screamed, proclaiming their love and willingness to bear the team’s children.
K-Rig never broke.
Staring straight ahead the entire time, they climbed the steps to the house and disappeared inside.
Image. These guys owned it.
Our vehicles rolled up next.
A guard walked up to my passenger door, which faced the house. A gun flashed from beneath his suit.
He pressed a finger to the outer edge of his ear.
“Defiance is here,” I heard him say, though there was no actual electronic in his ear. Probably had an implant under the skin. “Are we ready for them?”
Hell no.
His hand gripped the door handle. I thumbed the locking mechanism for a second with my right hand before my left wrestled it away. At least half of me was behaving.
For months, I’d been outside this industry, this madness. Of course, I’d done appearances and gotten recognized on the streets sometimes, but lately, all my energy had gone into building the team and our home. I’d spent my time behind closed doors, dealing with businesses and potential sponsors, not in front of the cameras. My only experience with the crowd as of late had been the occasional public appearance or interview, and those were nowhere near this magnitude.
With a finger still pressed to his ear, the guard outside our door finally nodded and motioned to a few others standing around him to prepare for our arrival. He reached again for the door handle.
Game-face time.
The door opened.
I stepped out, wearing my warrior façade. The screams hit me with such a blast, it knocked my eardrums back inside the car. After the initial wave of screams and applause hit me, I caught the tail end of Howie’s statement from the screen inside the car, just before the guard shut the door.
“—Kali ‘the warrior’ Ling is back—”
Damn right I am.
The team gathered around me. Rooke on my right, Derek on my left, and the girls beyond them. I had to chuckle. Standing together like this, we were balanced. I wasn’t sure if the rest of the team realized it on a conscious level, but we’d been trained this way by our former owner.
This is how you look like a team. Image is everything.
I waved at the crowd and smiled my warrior’s smile, the one I’d been taught. Inside, my nerves burned, and my chest was tight over all the screams, the infinite camera flashes, and the sheer number of people. But I kept smiling, and something inside me changed. They were cheering for me, for us. They wanted us to be here, to be in the competition, and their enthusiasm became my fire.
Defiance was here, and we were here to win.
Security waved us forward, probably desperate to get us inside before all hell broke loose, as if there really were a level of insanity beyond this. I walked toward the house with measured, purposeful steps, like I was on a mission instead of running for cover. My teammates followed suit. Once the doors closed behind us, I breathed a sigh of relief. The noise of the crowd still pressed against the windows and walls, but in here, I felt safe.
“That was . . .” Derek began, his voice trailing off. “Surreal.”
I closed my eyes and nodded, and though I couldn’t see my other teammates with my eyes closed, I assumed they were doing the same thing.
The sound of clicking heels pulled my eyes open. A hostess approached us, smiling.
“Welcome, Defiance. You are the final team to join us this evening.” She motioned down one of the halls with her hand. “Please, follow me. Everyone else is gathered in the main dining room.”
We followed her down the hallway as she led us into the main dining room. Now I knew why we’d eaten in the second dining room the first time we were here. Having been in the house before, I didn’t think I’d be overwhelmed by its extravagance again. I was wrong.
The main dining room was monstrous. It should have been a ballroom, really. It was large enough to hold weddings, and the number of people inside was enough to be one. Gamers and officials from the VGL filled the floor, clustered in groups as they conversed with each other, most with glasses of wine or appetizers in hand. Throughout the room, thousands of lights hung from the ceiling and adorned the tables, so the entire room glowed with golden tones. A buffet table stretched the entire length of the far wall, featuring three-stepped levels of seafood, gourmet cheeses, exotic fruit, delicacies from around the world—specifically from the countries competing in the tournament—all punctuated by flowers and chocolate waterfalls.
The sidewall, facing the back of the house, was floor-to-ceiling windows. Moonlight poured in and stretched across the floor, adding another layer of luminescence to the room. Sitting on a crest, the estate overlooked the other houses below, all high-end, with perfect lighting and infinity swimming pools. Beyond them lay the Pacific Ocean, lapping at the beach, which twinkled in the moonlight. I stepped up to the windows and placed a hand against the glass. My heart beat a little softer then at the sight of such beauty. This house could be worth nine figures based on the view alone.
“Hi, Kali.”
I turned around to find Cole Wilkinson standing behind me, our former teammate. I blinked away my shock. Of course he was here. He’d joined Oblivion, and they’d been invited past The Wall before we had.
“I heard you made it in,” he said. “Looks like we’ll be playing against each other.” He extended his hand. “No hard feelings?”
I extended my own and shook. “None. But we’ll kick your ass in the arena anyways.”
He grinned. “We’ll see about that.”
“Defiance,” a voice called out. Mr. Tamachi greeted us with a smile, his arms spread wide.
I turned back to Cole. “I’ll catch up with you later?”
“Sure thing.”
I left Cole to rejoin my team. Tamachi practically beamed with pride.
“Fantastic. Everyone’s here.” He stopped in front of our group. “Things will be getting under way soon. You can help yourself to the buffet.” He nodded toward the food, though I doubted my team would need the invitation. His gaze settled on me. “But I need to borrow your captain for a minute.”
I smiled. “Of course.”
While my teammates headed off to the buffet table, Tamachi took my arm and led me through the crowd of gamers and members of the VGL.
“Do you recognize him?” Tamachi nodded to a man across the room. He had dark hair that was just starting to gray at the temples, and a smile that crinkled his eyes. But his skin wa
s tanned and smooth, and his body fairly fit. He was one of those men who could’ve been anything from thirty-five to fifty-five. A semicircle of the room’s most important-looking people had formed around him, and beyond them were additional security guards. Yeah, I knew him. Only in pictures. Jonathan Kreger. The President of the VGL.
“Is that why you’re bringing me around the room? So I can see who’s here?”
“No, no. There’s someone who wants to meet you.”
Someone who wanted to meet me?
We walked halfway up the balcony and stopped behind a woman on the stairs, facing away from us. Her red locks were pulled into a stylish updo with tiny pearls pinned throughout. On closer inspection, the pearls had black eyes and pink tongues hanging out. The ghosts from Mario World. Nice touch.
When she turned around, I swallowed my yelp. Oh, sweet Jesus. She recognized me, too, and extended her hand.
“Hi, Kali. I’m—”
“Jessica Salt,” I finished for her. “Holy shit, you’re Jessica Salt.”
She laughed. “It’s nice to meet you, too.”
Tamachi excused himself. “I’ll leave you two to talk.”
Tamachi continued up the stairs to the top of the platform, disappearing into the crowd. Jessica took another step toward me and leaned against the balcony, balancing a wineglass between her fingers. Good thing no one had offered me any alcohol. I would have chugged an entire bottle right about now.
“I’m glad to see you’re coming back to the VGL,” Jessica said. “I’ve missed watching you play.”
I nearly choked on nothing but air. “You’ve watched me play?”
“You were the first female captain. Of course I was watching.”
I swallowed thick, though I wasn’t sure my neck was still attached to my body. Good thing I hadn’t known that when I’d been playing.
“On top of everything else,” she continued, “you bought out your own team at nineteen.”
“Twenty, actually,” I corrected her. “And my birthday is next month. So, I’ll be twenty-one then. It’s not as young as you think.”
Gauntlet Page 9
