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35: XAVIER STORM
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2025-05-18 18:31:42
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MISTRESS OF THE GAME 38: XAVIER STORM
XAVIER STORM“If you weren’t Marie… then where the hell is she?”Back at the hotel, I was vibrating with rage.This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. I should have had her in the backseat; bruised, breathless, but caught. Instead, Bull was dragging in someone I didn’t even recognize beyond the hoodie and the panic.The girl was limp, unconscious from the chase, tossed over Bull’s shoulder like some wild animal finally cornered.He dropped her on the suite’s polished floor with a grunt.My jaw tightened.“Put her in the chair.”Bull dragged her across the tiles and sat her upright. She was waking up slowly now, groaning, lashes fluttering. Her wrists and ankles were bound with zip ties. Gag still in place. I crouched beside her, breathing in her sweat and street grime, studying every inch of her face.Something was… off.Her nose wasn’t the same.Her mout
MISTRESS OF THE GAME 37: XAVIER STORM
XAVIER STORM“She’s close. I could feel it.”As I dashed out the front door, Else’s voice drifted from somewhere in the hallway.“Going out again?” she called, her tone laced with pity.I didn’t slow down. Didn’t even glance back. This was it, my shot. If I hesitated now, she would vanish again.I yanked open the SUV door and jumped in, slamming it shut with a force that rattled the frame. The engine was already humming, it was left on standby. I shifted into gear and moved out of the compound, tires squealing against the slick concrete.The city blurred past in flashes of gray and gold as I sped toward the Marina. My phone buzzed against the dash, it was Bull’s text. I tapped to open. A location. Coordinates.I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.Quick tap, I opened Google Maps. The red pin pulsed near the East View District, close to the Marina but pushed deeper inla
MISTRESS OF THE GAME 36: XAVIER STORM
XAVIER STORMI didn't sit. Couldn’t. My blood was too hot, my thoughts too fast. I paced the room like a caged animal, barely hearing Bull behind me. The walls felt too tight, the ceiling too low. That woman had taken more than my patience, she had taken the center of my storm.“You think she will reach out to him soon?” I asked, stopping by the glass wall that overlooked the city.“I would bet on it,” Bull said, voice steady. “People run to where or who feels safe.”I nodded, jaw clenched.That was what made her dangerous. She made people feel safe. Even I had felt it once. The softness behind her smart mouth. The vulnerability she tried to bury under fire and defiance. That softness had cost me more than I cared to admit.But I wasn’t going to lose this round. No.I turned. “Have the Sandpiper Inn watched. Someone might still remember her. If they do, pay them. If they lie, pay them more. If t
MISTRESS OF THE GAME 35: XAVIER STORM
XAVIER STORMThe black SUV was already parked by the front steps, tinted glass swallowing the sun light. I grabbed the keys from the hook and slid into the driver’s seat, not waiting for a chauffeur or backup. I didn’t need company. I needed control. The road, the wheel, the destination, I needed to feel like something was still in my hands.The engine came to life with a low growl. I punched the gas.The tires screeched a little too loudly against the concrete driveway, but I didn’t care. The city was busy as usual; traffic, movement, noise. But none of it reached me. I was locked in. Focused. No whiskey in my veins, no woman in my bed, no goddamn James in my ear. Just the mission. Just Marie.The farther I got from the house, the tighter my grip on the wheel became. Every second that ticked by, I thought of her; barefoot, bleeding, escaping through that window like a fucking ghost.She outplayed me.But not for long.I was going to find her. And when I did, I’d make sure she underst
MISTRESS OF THE GAME 34: XAVIER STORM
XAVIER STORMI sat on the edge of the bed, the bottle of whiskey resting in my palm like an old sin I didn’t want to let go of.The glass was cold, half-full, amber liquid catching the muted light leaking through the drawn curtains. I stared at it for a long time. Not blinking. Not breathing. Just… listening to that part of me whispering, One more sip. Just one. Then you’ll think better. Then the ache will stop.It was a lie. I knew it. The kind I’d told myself for years. Whiskey never made anything better. It just made me forget how bad things were, until I woke up the next morning drowning in the same pit with the walls twice as steep.My grip on the bottle tightened, then loosened.I stood.There was a hollow ache in my stomach sharp, raw. A hunger pang cutting through the alcohol haze like a dull knife. The buzz was fading. The fog was lifting. My mind was clearer than it had been since Marie left, and I needed it to stay that way.I walked down the stairs slowly, each step delibe
MISTRESS OF THE GAME 33: ROLAND
ROLANDI hated the fact that I had to call Storm, I wish I did not have to. Storm’s voice was the last thing I wanted in my ear, I was tired of his contempt and commands. Not even a hello. Just, “What?” Then the line went dead after his barking, and commanding. Very typical.I tossed the phone into the cup holder and stared through the windshield, good thing I was already in a car. Downtown was fifteen minutes away from where I was, longer if I hit traffic, and Storm expected me to drop everything like some errand boy. Not that he ever said thank you. Not that he ever treated me with even an ounce of respect.I wasn't his assistant. I was his second. His fixer. His strategist. And yet he talked to me like a dog.But fine. Let him keep barking.I’d play along. For now.Because when my move hit, he wouldn’t even see the board flipping beneath him.The downtown precinct looked like a forgotten relic from the '90s, gray cracked walls, a flickering fluorescent sign above the door, and the
MISTRESS OF THE GAME 32: XAVIER STORM
XAVIER STORMThe drive home was a blur, everything moved in a funny way, they looked like they were moving by so fast, yet they remained in front of me for too long. I didn’t remember telling the chauffeur where to go. Didn’t remember stepping into the car. Didn’t remember anything but the weight in my chest and the burn in my throat.Marie.Her name was pinned to the walls of my mind like note. She was my breath. Every breath I took pulled her deeper into my lungs, and no amount of whiskey could chase her out.As soon as we arrived, the gate swung open. The mansion loomed ahead—cold, majestic, hollow. The car came to a smooth stop. The chauffeur reached for the handle, but I shoved the door open myself. I stumbled out, my coat slung carelessly over my shoulder, my shirt half-untucked, my fingers trembling slightly.The wind slapped me in the face like an accusation.Else was already there.She always was.Seven years of service had trained her to anticipate me like muscle memory. I u
MISTRESS OF THE GAME 31: MARIE
MARIEThe sun was slipping behind the tree line, casting long amber shadows across Henry’s backyard. The lake had gone quiet, boats gone or moored, the water still as glass. A cooling breeze had begun to move through the pine trees, carrying the scent of moss and damp earth. I had waited all day, pacing, watching, listening. Thinking. Planning. And now, I was ready to make my move.I found Henry in the kitchen, washing a few dishes with slow, deliberate motions. He glanced up as I entered."Going for a walk," I said, grabbing the light jacket I saw slung over a dining chair.He didn’t stop scrubbing. Just looked at me with that same quiet perceptiveness he always seemed to carry."Long walk?" he asked, mildly.I shrugged. "Just needed air."There was a pause. Then he gave a small nod. "Take one of the bikes. Easier on the knees."I blinked at him. "Thanks."As I stepped out the door, I thought about the way his eyes had ling
MISTRESS OF THE GAME 30: MARIE
MARIEHenry stood beside me on the dock, both of us staring into the distance where the lake stretched wide and blue. The morning had ripened into a soft, golden glow, brushing the ripples with silver and gold like a Monet painting come to life. Even with the tight knot in my stomach and the dead-end text sitting in my pocket, something about the lake made it all feel a bit further away, like I could press pause on the real world just for a moment."Would you like to go down to the lake?" Henry asked, breaking the silence. His voice was gentle, carrying the kind of kindness people earn through decades of life, pain, and peace. Like he was offering more than a walk maybe a distraction. Maybe mercy.I hesitated, then nodded. I still had time to kill. Ninety minutes had become seventy-five now, and I wasn’t going to survive it pacing around the porch like a caged thing."Sure," I said. "Why not."He smiled and started off down a narrow path that led aro
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