BLAZE
"You f*****g loser."
The words are a pathetic attempt at control, sharp and bitter as they leave my lips. But Luther doesn’t even blink. He doesn’t need to. He just leans back in his chair like the f*****g king of the world, calm and collected, sliding his queen across the board to obliterate mine. Again.
Checkmate.
For the third time tonight.
What the f**k.
I used to be good at this—strategic, ruthless, impossible to corner. Now? I’m fumbling like a goddamn rookie, and it’s killing me. He doesn’t just beat me; he dismantles me. Like he’s taking me apart, piece by piece, and leaving me to pick up the scraps.
“Third game in a row,” he says, his voice smooth and low, like he’s not even trying to rub it in. And that’s what pisses me off the most. He doesn’t have to try. “You sure
