Fake Game (The System #3)

Chapter Two

TWO

DEER

N ot safe.

I’m not safe.

I hug myself tighter, digging my nails into my shoulders so hard that I’m shocked my pointy acrylics aren’t breaking skin. My wrist aches from where the officer twisted, and it just serves as a brutal reminder.

Every single little noise has my head twitching and eyes darting around. I’m worried about inhaling too deep because it feels like something is going to pop out of the shadows any minute.

I haven’t moved since the police left.

I don’t even know how long ago that was.

All I know is that I was swatted.

I was actually fucking swatted.

My stomach churns like someone dropped a gallon of sour slushie in it. I’m in danger of throwing up again even though there’s nothing left in my stomach. I feel like such an idiot. Here I was, acting like Deer Hunter was just some nobody spewing idle threats.

I should’ve known to report it to the police. I should’ve alerted them that I was someone who was at risk of being swatted—that’s what a smart streamer would’ve done. But no, I’d refused to believe this was an actual issue.

So damn na?ve.

I’d been dead wrong, and I’d paid the price.

I bury my face in my knees, curling myself further into a little ball under my duvet.

THUMP.

THUMP.

THUMP.

My entire body jerks at the noise and my heart stops. I hold my breath, waiting for a group of men to come barging in again.

“Deer, are you in there?” Lee’s voice filters through the cracks.

Crap.

“Deer, open up,” Sydney calls out.

Double crap.

I don’t want them to see me like this.

I can’t. This isn’t me.

This isn’t Deer.

I panic, scrambling out of my sheets and almost tripping on my rug as I rush out of my room. My ankle twists, and I wince at the twinge but push past it with pure desperation flowing through my veins.

“I have a key,” Lee reminds me. “If you don’t open this door in five seconds, I’m coming in anyway.”

“Fuck the countdown, just open it,” Jackson growls.

The anger in his voice shocks me as my fuzzy socks skid across the floorboards.

I hear the telltale snick of the lock and watch as my front door flies open. Four people come barreling into my apartment, and I see the moment a pair of cool gray eyes land on me.

“Oh, Deer,” Sydney whispers as she rushes at me with open arms.

She squeezes me in a hug right before another small body slams into me.

“I was so worried,” Lee’s voice cracks as her arms wrap around my waist. “I called you like three hundred times, and you just weren’t picking up. You freaked me out.” She releases her hold on me and gives my shoulder a light shove. She’s a little pissed at me, but I can see tears beading on her bottom lashes. One of them falls, trailing down her pale cheek.

Guilt wracks me, but in the aftermath of the police leaving, I hadn’t been able to command my body to do anything other than crawl into bed.

“I’m sorry,” I mumble as Sydney cradles me against her side. “I’m fine, really. Just a little shocked.” I force a tense smile, and somehow, my voice comes out level.

Someone scoffs and I peek up to see Jackson glaring down at me.

I press my lips together as I avoid his gaze. I don’t like that he can see through my lies so easily.

“What happened?”

Those two simple words pierce my bubble.

Syd feels me tense beneath her, and she gives my bicep a squeeze. She’s been the publicist for The System for the last five years, and she is the mother hen of the group, always looking out for not only her guys but us girls as well. There’s no one more protective than Syd.

“Come on, let’s sit down for a second.” She guides me over to the soft white couch, her arm never leaving me once.

“I was swatted.” The words stick to my tongue like honey.

“Do you know who it was?” Parker Covington, British billionaire and resident joker of The System (known by the gamertag EnglishCoffee, a.k.a. English), follows his girlfriend’s lead and crouches before me, placing a hand on my knee.

I shake my head. “No, there’s—” I stop, clenching my jaw to prevent the words from leaving my lips.

What am I going to say?

Oh, there’s been someone threatening me for months, and I brushed it off like a dumbass.

I let out a groan and press my palm to the space between my brows, rubbing away the tension.

“There’s what?” Jackson pushes.

“There’s nothing. I don’t want to talk about it,” I bite back.

His eyes narrow. “You’re deflecting.”

“And you’re annoying me.”

“Fine, whatever. If you don’t want help, that’s your issue. But don’t forget that we’ve dealt with this shit before.” He crosses his arms, drawing my attention to his strong biceps that are on full display with the muscle tee he has on.

Ugh. Gods. Why is he still hot when he is pissed?

“He’s right. We can help,” Lee calls out.

There’s a loud crash, and we jerk our heads to my bedroom as Lee drops one of my pink Louis Vuitton suitcases onto the floor.

“That’s custom,” I whine, pushing out of Syd’s grasp to check on my luggage. I run my hands across the leather, searching for any scratches. “What did you do that for?”

“I’m helping,” she shrugs before walking into my closet. She begins to pick pieces off the hangers and heedlessly throws them at my suitcase.

“Lee,” I grit out as a miniskirt narrowly misses my head.

“You can’t stay here. You’re coming home with me.”

“Aren’t your parents visiting soon?”

“There’s more than enough space.”

“Lee—"

“Someone knows where you live.”

A chill breaks over my skin. I don’t want to think about that. I just want to go back to ignoring it and everything else about tonight.

“I’m not imposing on your parents.”

“Well, you’re not staying here.” She places her hands on her hips.

Lee is always so carefree that I sometimes forget how stubborn she can be. We’re two sides of the same coin.

“She’s right,” Parker agrees as he comes to sit on my bed. “The security at this place is a wank.”

“Exactly. Even you’ve said before that the security here is sucky,” Lee muses as she chucks a pair of platform heels on the ground.

I press my lips together and stare at the growing mound of clothes and shoes.

I don’t want to admit defeat, that I don’t feel safe in my own apartment. Part of me thought that maybe if I just stayed here and pretended that nothing ever happened that I could remain in my little bubble of ignorance. That maybe the world isn’t as scary as it feels.

The local police have my information now; they know I’m at risk of swatting, so they won’t be as aggressive the next time it happens. If there’s even a next time. Maybe this Deer Hunter person will give up now? They’ve had their laugh. They’ve traumatized me on stream, live for tens of thousands of people to see. That’s normally the goal for these people. So, what more is there?

“Look, I get the concern, but I’m going to be fine. Really.” I turn my head to stare at the big grump leaning on my doorframe. “It’s like you said, you’ve dealt with this before. It’s not that big a deal.”

“That’s not the point I was trying to make,” Jackson sighs.

“Why don’t you at least crash at one of our places tonight? Just for peace of mind. Aleks and Stevie are in New York again for the Hayes art show, so his room is free,” Sydney says, referring to the leader of The System, Aleksander Knight (known by his gamertag NightBlade32, a.k.a. Blade), and his girlfriend, up-and-coming artist Stephanie Andwell.

I see the silent plea in her eyes, but I still don’t give in.

“I’m serious. I’m fine.” I stand up and walk out of my bedroom and to the front door, opening it. It’s a touch rude, I know, but I can’t deal with any more of their smothering. I feel like I’m in the middle of a fire and someone is choking me at the same time.

It’s making everything ten times worse.

“Fine.” Sydney huffs, grabbing Parker’s hand and leading him out of my bedroom.

Jackson has to practically pick Lee up and carry her to make her leave.

“I’m not happy about this,” she hisses as he drops her by the door.

“I know you care, and I love you for that, but I just need some space. Please.”

Her eyes soften and the pity swimming in them makes me feel guilty all over again.

“Call me in the morning, okay?”

“Okay.”

She pulls me into a hug, and I squeeze her back, letting her know that I really do appreciate everything she’s done. When I release her, Sydney takes her place and pulls me close.

“Call us if anything feels off.”

“I will.”

She lets me go, and Parker gives my hand a squeeze and throws me one of his classic winks before leaving with her.

Jackson starts to silently follow them out, but he pauses right after he crosses the threshold. I freeze as he looks at me over his shoulder.

“Don’t be a hero.”

And then he’s gone.

I shut my door, locking it and then double-checking that the lock is sturdy by twisting the knob an unnecessary number of times. Even then, it still doesn’t feel safe enough.

I brace my legs and shove my armchair across the floorboards until it comes to sit flush with the door. That’s a little better.

Numbly, I walk back into my bedroom and stare at the disarray of clothes and shoes on the floor that I can’t be bothered to deal with right now. I barely even have the energy to make it into my bathroom to throw my hair up in a shitty bun.

I bug my eyes wide in the mirror and use my knuckles to remove my bright blue contact lenses. My natural hazel eyes stare back at me as I take the time to double cleanse and remove my layers of makeup before painstakingly cleaning my lash extensions. The monotony of my routine seems to calm the buzzing hive in my chest by a fraction.

Trudging into my walk-in closet, I peel off my signature pink dress and hang it up before grabbing an oversized T-shirt to throw on.

I stare at myself in the mirror and let out a self-deprecating laugh. If my hair was its natural strawberry-blonde color, you wouldn’t even recognize me—but that’s the point.

The wind howls outside, screaming into the silence, and I crawl into bed and draw my sheets tightly around myself.

I squeeze my eyes shut and will my mind to think calm, happy thoughts: my parents, video games, a fresh set of nails, those little Snorlax-shaped doughnuts from the shop downtown.

But no matter how hard I try, the tension never leaves. I just end up tossing and turning until my sheets become a tangled mess around my hot body. It takes another two hours before I admit defeat and slip from bed to grab my gaming laptop. Armed with a cup of warmed honey milk, I create a fortress under my sheets and load up a life sim, losing myself in a game where I can control the lives of others so I don’t have to think about the lack of stability in my own.