Chapter 12
Haven
The light when I wake up is stupidly soft.
Like, unnecessarily perfect. No alarms blaring.
No chaos waiting to pounce. Just a golden slant of sun creeping across my sheets, warm on my skin, like it’s trying to convince me the world isn’t a mess.
Nice try. I blink slowly, taking a second to realize where I am.
Last night with Tate felt like a dream, but the heavy arm locked around my waist is a pretty convincing reality check along with his breath warm against the back of my neck.
He’s still out cold, uncharacteristically still, his face relaxed in a way I almost never see.
Cute. Irritatingly cute, actually, considering how he usually looks like he’s trying to pick a fight with the devil himself. I slip out from under his arm carefully, which is about as graceful as escaping a bear trap. My knee almost lands on his thigh, but somehow he doesn’t budge.
I grab one of his hoodies off the chair and tug it over my head. It swallows me whole.
The apartment is quiet. Carter’s curled up on the couch, limbs tangled in my throw blanket, his mouth slightly parted like he fell asleep mid-sentence. I need coffee.
I scribble a note on a sticky and slap it to the fridge: Coffee run. Don’t start shit without me. —H
Twenty minutes later I’m balancing three drinks in a cardboard tray and a bag of breakfast muffins when I unlock the front door and step back inside.
“—she always gets oat milk, dumb ass. You should’ve told me she likes that.”
Tate’s voice follows “You think I remember milk orders before noon?”
“You two bonding over my coffee order?” I tease, holding up the tray. “That’s hot.”
Both heads snap toward me. Tate grins like he’s been caught doing something illegal while Carter immediately reaches for the drink tray.
“You are a saint,” he says, handing Tate his before grabbing his own.
When the last of the muffin crumbs have been claimed, the coffee’s half gone, and the kitchen’s radiating lazy warmth. I hover there for a second, just watching them.
Tate’s half-sprawled in one of the bar stools. Carter’s rinsing out cups at the sink.
He’s basically adopted the kitchen as his personal chore since they showed up, like he can’t stand to see a single dish left behind.
They’re not messy people, Tate’s probably the neatest chaotic man I’ve ever met.
Everywhere else? That’s on me, and I’ve let it slide.
I’ve even told them don’t worry about messes but it’s now eating away at me.
My eyes drift to the living room, where blankets are still bunched up on the couch, a stack of empty energy drink cans sit on the coffee table, and my laptop is balanced on a pile of laundry I swore I’d fold two days ago.
Even my bedroom door is cracked open like a reminder of a mess waiting inside.
I know they don’t care. They’re not the type to judge me over a little clutter, but it still makes me feel I need to prove to myself I haven’t completely unraveled just because they’re here.
I lean over the counter. “Hey. I’ve been meaning to ask, should we start a bribe jar?”
Carter blinks, amused. “A what?”
“A bribe jar,” I repeat. “You know. Like a swear jar but for when one of you tries to get out of doing something domestic and resorts to flirting, bribery, or emotional manipulation.”
Tate raises a brow. “So basically a jar I’d owe rent to.”
Carter snorts. “You say that like you wouldn’t fill it proudly.”
“I would,” Tate agrees easily. “I’d make it sexy.”
I gesture between them. “Exactly. You can’t keep getting out of chores by being hot.”
Carter feigns offense. “So now kindness is a crime?”
“You tried to get out of doing Tate’s dishes yesterday by saying you ‘made the kitchen look pretty.’”
“I did,” he argues. “You smiled. That’s a win.”
“And you,” I say, turning on Tate, “left your laundry in my hamper and offered to kiss my neck until I ‘forgot about it.’”
He smirks. “Did it work?”
I glare. “Yes. But that’s not the point.”
He leans forward. “What’s the price for one neck kiss?”
Carter, without missing a beat, says, “Two dollars. More if tongue’s involved.”
I drop my head to the counter, laughing so hard it hurts. “You guys are relentless.”
“Relentless and charming,” Carter says proudly, drying his hands. “It’s our brand.”
Tate hums. “I’ll pay in advance.”
“You’re pre-bribing me for something?”
“I plan to cause problems later,” he says simply. “Might as well build credit.”
Carter points at him. “That’s technically responsible.”
“We’re not normal,” I sigh, but I’m smiling so hard my cheeks hurt, then sink into the bar stool by the counter. “So… today.”
Tate raises a brow. “Big day.”
“Massive,” Carter says, sipping carefully. “You ready?”
I exhale slowly. “Getting there. But I have one question.”
Tate lifts his head lazily.
“How the hell are you planning to actually play? You didn’t bring your setup.”
“I didn’t have to,” he says. “Carter called in a favor.”
Right on cue, a knock at the door. Carter grins. “That’s Hunter. Told you he owed me.”
My living room is chaos. There’s cords everywhere, a ring light. Tate’s tower is now taking over the corner desk near my bookshelves. His monitor glows red, headset on and mask in place, he’s back in Ghost mode.
“I cannot believe you’re going to play from my living room,” I say, tossing him a power strip.
“You invited the chaos, pretty girl.”
Carter sets his coffee down and leans forward slightly. “You okay?”
My heart’s thudding. “Yeah,” I lie. Except I’m not. Not even close.
I leave my bedroom door open as I pull my chair out, sink into it, and take a slow breath. My monitor flickers to life, the countdown timer pulsing across the screen. Thirty seconds. That’s all I’ve got left to pretend I’m not about to jump out of my skin.
Carter’s laptop is propped on my nightstand table in my bedroom, where he plans to lurk and moderate/chat-snipe from a safe distance.
I click through my overlays, forcing my brain to switch into streaming mode. My game face, the only armor I’ve got left right now.
From the front room, Tate’s voice cuts through the thin wall. “Hey, pretty girl—hope you’re not about to choke under pressure.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, just for a second, and let out a shaky breath. Then I crack my knuckles, straighten in my chair, and swallow whatever’s left of my nerves.
The countdown timer ticks across the screen, and suddenly it’s real. Thirty seconds. My load out’s locked. My ping’s stable but my hands are sweating so bad I have to wipe my palms on my thighs before reaching for my mouse again.
Carter leans forward on the bed behind me, eyes glued to the screen over my shoulder. “Breathe, baby. You’ve done this a thousand times.”
“Not like this,” I murmur, heart punching against my ribs.
“Exactly like this,” he says, soft but steady. “It’s just another game. You’re better than all of them.”
Across the apartment, I hear the snap of Tate’s headset settling over his ears.
His voice comes in a beat later, low and keyed-up. “Let’s fucking go.”
I adjust in my chair, roll my shoulders, crack my neck. I can do this. I will do this. The match starts.
We drop into a ruined industrial complex which is honestly half warehouse, half nightmare.
The sky is ash-gray, the air thick with pixelated fog and the echo of distant gunfire. I bolt forward, sliding behind a stack of rusted crates, my movement sharp and clean. The HUD lights up—teammates fanning out, enemies pinging near the south corridor.
The chat goes off within seconds.
EZ_BeatMe69: Oof the e-couple’s here. Hide your simps.
GrrrlBoss93: Fuck around and find out.
Tate ’s voice cuts through my headset like a switchblade. “You take left, I’ll sweep under.”
I move. We’re a blur of motion—fluid, ruthless.
A shot pings past my ear. I slide under it, pop up behind a stack of oil drums, and light up two enemies trying to flank. My SMG kicks back hard, rattling in my hand, but I don’t miss.
Carter’s behind me in the room, his breath catching. “Hell yeah. That’s my girl.”
A grenade rolls near me, Tate’s warning, “Move right, now,” and I dodge on instinct, glass shattering behind me as the blast rips through the side wall.
“Thanks,” I huff.
He grunts. “Don’t make me save your ass twice.” while his name pops up in the feed.
NoOneGhost [Knife] ToastedN00b
NoOneGhost [Pistol] xXFragQueenXx
“Jesus,” I breathe.
He laughs through the comms. “Welcome to the show.”
We hold the center point together—me posted up with a mid-range rifle, Tate circling the outskirts like a shark, cutting down anyone who gets close.
For a moment, we don’t just play well together, we hunt. Every movement synced, every cover switch clean. Every kill earned and then some. I forget about the bracket. I forget about Dylan.
I forget about anything except this… this rush, this fire in my pulse when Carter says “You’re doing amazing sweetheart” behind me and Tate barks, “Keep going. They’re scared of you.”
And god, I hope they are. The first few minutes are shaky—my grip’s too tight, my aim a hair too wide but once I get that first clean kill, everything clicks.
It’s like muscle memory, like instinct. Like breathing. I reload on the run, duck behind a crumbling support beam, and ping two more enemies in the upper catwalk. They’re slow. Lazy. Probably cocky. I drop them both before their squad even realizes I’ve flanked.
Behind me, Carter lets out a low whistle. “You’re on fire.”
My heart’s still hammering, but my hands? They’re steady now. Precise.
I hear Tate’s chair creak as he leans forward, voice low in my headset. “South tunnel’s got two camping.”
“On it,” I say, sprinting. I slide into the tunnel—shadows, flickering lights, one heartbeat—and toss a flash bang just past the corner. There’s a pop, a scream then chaos. They’re disoriented, and I eat them alive.
HavenHexed [SMG] W33bSlayer98
HavenHexed [SMG] D3athSnax
Carter laughs under his breath. “They didn’t even see you coming.”
I grin. “That’s the point.”
Then Tate’s in it too “Top right, two dropping in hot.” I swing up to cover, land a shot just past the window, and Tate catches the other mid-air.
NoOneGhost [Sniper] BloodR3aper
NoOneGhost [Melee] KneecapsMcGee
“Did you just knife a guy mid-fall?” I ask, half-horrified.
He cackles. “Gravity-assisted execution, baby.”
I choke on a laugh, ducking just in time as a frag grenade bounces off the wall.
“Eyes on the prize,” Carter teases behind me. “Chat’s getting rowdy.”
I wipe a sweaty palm on my shorts, eyes flicking to the kill feed. I’m racking up numbers fast now—headshots, flanks, quick-switches like I was built for this.
One squad tries to rush me. It’s a bad move. I vault a crate, tag the first in the chest, then spin and drop the second with a short burst of fire. Tate clears the third from across the room without missing a beat.
The final match point flashes. I don’t hesitate. I breach the last door, slide into cover, and pop the squad leader right between the eyes.
Victory. My whole body sags in the chair as the match timer runs down. “Holy shit,” I breathe.
Carter leans over the back of my chair, arms slipping around my shoulders. “That was flawless.”
“Not flawless,” I murmur, heart still pounding. “But close.”
Tate’s voice cuts through the comms. “You’re cracked, pretty girl. Don’t let it go to your head.”
“Oh, it’s already there.” I say, grinning as I sip from my water bottle.
The match lobby dissolves, dropping us back to the bracket screen, that’s when I see it.
Next round: HavenHexed paired D7LAN.
The grin drops right off my face. The match lobby dissolves. My throat goes dry.
Behind me, Carter must notice the shift in my posture because he crouches beside my chair, resting a hand on my knee. “What is it?”
I don’t answer at first. Just point. His eyes dart to the screen and then narrow. “Shit.”
Across the apartment, Tate speaks before I can even open my mouth. “He’s in your next match?”
“Yeah.”
A pause, his voice sounds barely controlled. “Good.”
Carter squeezes my knee gently. “You don’t have to talk to him. Don’t read his chat. Just play your game. You already beat him once by leaving.”
I nod slowly, but the nausea’s still there, coiled low and tight. A soft ping pulls me from the spiral.
Incoming whisper: D7LAN >> “Nice game. Think you’ll be that lucky against my scores?”
My chest goes cold. I don’t reply. I just close the chat and slam the window shut.
Tate’s voice comes through my headset, razor-sharp and cutting. “Let me in that match with you. I dare him to try anything.”
“You’ll get disqualified for team killing,” Carter says.
“Totally worth it.”