Page 35 of Twisted Enemy
Cole said he loves me, and I believe him. At least, I believe he thinks he does. But he doesn’t begin to understand me.
He doesn’t understand that Tarasov won this round eighteen years ago, when he left Breagha and me in the dark with Larissa’s rotting corpse. He won when he took me into the Cold Room. He won when I couldn’t begin to fight.
“I hate him,” I say.
“You should.”
“I want to destroy him,” I say.
“That’s my job.”
“Youaren’t doing anything!”
“Trust me.”
I trust him with my body. That’s easy, downstairs. With all the games, all the toys, all the ways he knows to break me—I’m certain that I’m safe.
But with Clan business? With our ancient bratva enemy? He wasn’t born a Lynch. He doesn’t understand.
“Trust. Me,” he says again.
“I want to,” I finally answer.
He waits, as if he thinks I’ll say something more. But when I don’t, he sighs. “It’s been a long day,” he says. “Let’s go upstairs.”
Not to the dungeon. To bed, rather. To sleep.
That should be a compromise. That should be enough. But I shake my head, then nod toward my office. “You go on. I have work to do.”
I can see he wants to argue. But he takes a step away, and then he says, “Don’t be too long.”
I don’t answer. He doesn’t need to hear me lie.
My computer waits on my desk, like the most loyal of pets. Staring at the screen, I curl my fingers over the keyboard. This is where I’ve taken refuge for years, angry with Mam, disappointed in Da, baffled by Breagha’s pure and simple ability to be content with the world.
I hate Tarasov for everything he’s done. But ruining the Red Cap Raiders might have been his most spiteful move. And wielding my CyberGhost identity as a weapon, making Cole comply… That’s the feckin’ image of cruelty.
Build another team. That’s how I win.
I’ve been thinking about it. A lot. I need to build out a new corner in Winter Reckoning, a place hidden from all the players except the handful I choose. It won’t be a cave or a mountain or a forest. The game is filled with them.
I’ll build a maze.
Each turn will require solving a new puzzle. I can base my structure on the maths challenges Cole has scattered throughout the online world, but my solutions will put a priority on teams working together. Players—teams—will have choices every step of the way, twists and turns and plenty of dead ends. And at the center will be a structure everyone can build together, a house with many rooms, a village we all can share.
Mazesounds too simple. I’ll build alabyrinth.
Just saying the twisty word inside my head takes me back to the first time I heard it. I was eight years old, sitting beside a crackling Irish fire with Granny. She stroked my hair, not even attempting to calm my curls as she told me story after story after story.
That’s when she first taught me about Queen Mebh, but there were other tales as well. There was Sekhmet, the ancient Egyptian goddess of war. There was Pandora, with her forbidden box of secrets. There was Circe, who could turn men into pigs.
And there was Ariadne. She understood the power of the labyrinth. She saved the man she loved by giving him thread to track his way through the maze.
Ariadne’s Daughters—that’s what I’ll call my team. We’ll spin the thread. We’ll mark the path. We’ll craft a new way through the internet.
I only need one trusted ally to start. If I choose the right person,shecan help build the team.
Relying on the administrative access Cole gave me last week, I pull up a list of Ice Knights, the most accomplished players in the game. My eyes automatically go to the names I know best—DarkMoney666, Shadow, IceKiller. MaskedMarauder.
