“But I can’t—”
His thumb brushes against my bottom lip, shutting me up. He looks up with his dreamy eyes. He really is an attractive man. And if I wasn’t so hung up on Enzo, I would give a man like Langston a chance. But I’m hopelessly Enzo’s, and Langston is nothing more than an overprotective brother to me.
And despite his touch, I know he feels the same.
“Let me worry about the rules. I’ll find you an heir. I don’t know how yet. But I’ll find some way. Some loophole in the rules. Or some person whose DNA matches yours. Or some technology that can help you have a child. This is how I will save you. Zeke and Enzo played their roles in your rise to power, let me find a way to help you.”
I swallow the lump in my throat. Three men. Three wonderful, powerful men. All willing to lay their lives down for me. All thinking I’m more worthy than them.
What if I fail them?
What if I do become Black?
What if I’m not good enough?
What if their sacrifices were for nothing?
Langston exhales with a smile. “Stop worrying if you are worthy. The fact that you worry about being enough is what makes you the most worthy of us all.”
I nod, unable to speak words. I know Langston will keep his promise, which means I have a chance at becoming Black. But at what cost? I can’t be Black if it means losing Enzo forever.
“Miss Miller,” Archard says at the door, not bothering to knock.
Langston stands but keeps his hand on my shoulder as if he’s become my shield protecting me from whatever words Archard has come here to speak.
“Tomorrow is game day,” Archard says.
Tomorrow. I get to see Enzo tomorrow. And it will most likely demolish what is left of my heart.
>
I only have until tomorrow to figure out if I can save Enzo. And from the grip of the man standing next to me, I know it’s not possible. Langston won’t let me save Enzo, not this time. I will have to wait until the last game. By then, Enzo will know everything there is to know about Milo. By then, we will know exactly who our enemy is and how strong he is. By then, one of us will become Black, and we will have no choice but to fight against Milo, no matter the personal cost.
I have to wait, until the last game. But what if I can’t wait?
10
Enzo
I feel high—that’s how many painkillers I’m on.
The doctors tug on my skin, but I don’t feel it. They’ve been working on my shoulders the entire flight to Miami. Removing bullet fragments, preventing infection, closing the wound, doing therapy on my shoulders to ensure I still have full range of motion, filling my body with more blood and painkillers to the point that I don’t feel any pain. I wouldn’t be surprised if Milo had them pump some performance-enhancing drug into my system to try and ensure I win.
This isn’t like any other sporting competition. There will be no testing for drugs. No calls that I competed unfairly.
And still, after all the work and drugs, I know I won’t win. Even if I was healthy, this game was designed by Kai’s father. He designed it for her to win. I’ll win the fourth game, which means it will come down to the fifth game. The one where neither of us will have an advantage because our fathers had to create it together.
“You look like crap,” Milo says, staring at me on the makeshift hospital table as we land in Miami.
“Then maybe you shouldn’t have shot me if you cared how I looked.”
“Let’s go, we don’t want to be late.”
I throw on a black T-shirt to cover my wounds, and I don't even feel the fabric brush my skin. I feel too good. I feel invincible. And all I want to do is attack Milo.
We exit the plane and load into the back of one of the blacked out SUV’s, and then we head toward Surrender.
Milo sits in the front of the car looking anxious. I don’t know why he needs me to win so badly. Why does he want my empire? It goes deeper than just our last interactions. This goes years deeper.