“Run, little bee.”
The lights shift again, and the forest lumberyard darkens. A low, distant growl rolls through the speakers.
I don’t think. I run.
And behind me, I hear his laugh.
Low. Velvety. Predatory.
The hunt has begun.
14
ETHAN
She runs.
For half a heartbeat, I just stand there and watch her go.
Barbara’s small in real life, but in the sim—bare feet slapping against the rendered lumber yard floor, hair flying, wearing nothing but that soft bra and those ridiculous panties—she looks like a shot of pure adrenaline made just for my heart. Neon-blue trace lights track her movements in my HUD, mapping every step to her real body.
God, she’s perfect.
I exhale slowly through my nose, forcing myself not to bolt after her immediately. Give her distance. Let the panic build. Let the atmosphere do some of the work.
The system hums at my back, projectors syncing, haptics calibrating. On my console, her vitals are a set of clean little spikes—heart rate elevated, breathing fast, adrenaline climbing.
I did that. I’m going to do a lot more.
“Sim, load profile: Lumberyard_03_w/o_hostiles,” I say, voice distorted through the mask.
The lumber yard around us deepens—shadows stretching, temperature dropping two degrees, the sound field tightening.Every creak, every scrape, every distant thunder roll is tuned to hit the fear centers of the human brain.
I built this place for Killian, though sometimes Damien joined, or Caleb when he was in town. For combat. For training. And now I’m repurposing it for something much more important.
“Overlay: target avatar baseline, no distortion,” I add.
Her avatar stays true to her. No monsters, no glitch filters. Just Barbara as she is—lush curves, smooth skin, hair spilling over her shoulders. I’ll be able to see where she’s looking thanks to the cameras built into her headset, like it’s not even there. The only other change is a faint glowing ring at her throat that tells the system where not to let me hit if this were a combat drill—no accidental damage to anything vital.
“Safety perimeter set,” the system pings in my ear.
Good. All the walls and columns are mapped. The sim will warn me if I barrel too hard toward a real-world obstacle. I can chase her at full speed without worrying I’ll slam her into concrete.
I turn to the gear shelf and grab what I need.
Small. Black. Silicone. A narrow anal toy, not too intimidating, but enough to make my girl squeal once I’ve got her caught and pliant. I roll it between gloved fingers, picturing how she’s going to look with this snug between her cheeks, my hand on her lower back, telling her to relax and take it.
Later. First, the chase.
I slip it into my pocket, feeling its small weight when I move.
“All good, little bee?” I call out, voice rolling through the space thanks to the directional speakers.
There’s a pause. Her avatar slows, half-turns, chest heaving. “Stay away, asshole!” she yells back, making me laugh. Always has to be defiant.
“You better run,” I say softly. “You’ve got thirty seconds left.”
I wait exactly five before I break into a sprint.
