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Chapter no 12 – ROHAN

The Grandest Game

Rohan examined the hint heโ€™d uncovered. Around the base of a flagpole on the western point of the island, heโ€™d found a thick metal chain fixed in place with a padlock made of a gleaming platinum. The lock had no keyhole, no combination pad, nothing to allow it to be opened. A sentence had been engraved into the surface of the platinum in elaborate script.

No man is an island, entire of itself.ย Rohan recognized the words, the start of a famous poem. So what was the clue, the hint, the advantage meant to be obtained by the player who found this? His brain sorted mercilessly through possibilities: the poetโ€™s name,ย John Donne; the poem itself, focused on the idea that mankind is inherently connected to one another.

Never send to know for whom the bell tolls.ย Rohan allowed himself to jump to the ending of the poem.ย It tolls for thee.

Deep in Rohanโ€™s mind, a warning sounded:ย Someoneโ€™s coming.ย Heโ€™d long since trained his senses to operate exactly as he needed them to. Even when his mind was elsewhere, his ears were always listening, his body always alert. Footsteps were never just footsteps. They were tellsโ€”and Rohan was an expert at reading people.

Soft-soled shoes, aggressive stride, weight skewed toward the balls of the feet.ย He set the lock down and silently faded into the shadows. He already had the clue memorized, and observing another playerโ€™s reaction to it would tell him more than fighting over it possibly could.

Within seconds, the owner of the soft-soled shoes and that aggressive

stride appeared.ย Tall and powerfully built.ย Her long, silvery-blond hair was pulled into two tight braids that wreathed her head on either side like a crown of laurels, joining together in a thicker braid that hung down her back like a gilded rope.

Savannah Grayson.ย Rohan knew the basics about her already: eighteen years old, college basketball player, a reputation as an ice queen, Grayson Hawthorneโ€™s half sister.

Tell me, Savannah, Rohan said silently.ย Who are you really?

As he watched, Savannah zeroed in on the lock with remarkable speed. She read the clue. Most people would have paused to ponder, but the slightest shift of her weight tipped Rohan off to the fact that she wasnโ€™tย most people.

He saw her next move right before she made it.

She slid her arm under the chain, looping it over her shoulder, and began to climb. There was no flag at the top of the pole. Nothing for Savannah Grayson to find there.ย Youโ€™re not looking for anything, are you, love?ย She was getting the lockโ€”and the chainโ€”off the pole.

The fifty-foot-tall pole.

Savannah climbed the way she walkedโ€”with purpose.ย With fury, Rohan thought. Her arms were strong, her endurance impressive. Drawn by that purpose, that fury, that endurance, Rohan stepped out of the shadows. The pole was solid enough and large enough to support his weight as well as hers.

Rohan could think of worse ways to make a personโ€™s acquaintance. Savannah was halfway to the top when she realized she had company.

Her gaze didnโ€™t linger on his. She climbed harder, faster, but Rohan had four inches, half an armโ€™s length, and a lifetime at the Devilโ€™s Mercy on her.

Soon enough, his hands grabbed the pole just above her ankles, the backs of his fingers brushing the front of her leg. A second later, the two of them were neck and neck. Something in Rohan wanted to push past her to see how hard she would push back, but in Rohanโ€™s world, strategy was never subject toย want. He paced her, hand for hand and foot for foot, never taking the advantage and never giving it up.

As they neared the apex, Savannah Graysonโ€™s eyes met his. โ€œNice day for a climb,โ€ Rohan said.

Savannah raked her gaze over him, from head to toe, and arched a brow.

โ€œIโ€™ve seen nicer.โ€

Oh, he liked her. Rohan had a certain appreciation for being put in his place. And for the set of her lips as she did it.

โ€œNeed any help with that?โ€ Rohan nodded toward the chain looped around Savannahโ€™s shoulder.ย Iโ€™ve already seen the clue, but you donโ€™t know that. Letโ€™s see how far youโ€™ll go to protect what you perceive as yours.

โ€œDoes it look like I need help?โ€ Savannahโ€™s tone was completely unperturbed, like they werenโ€™t fifty feet off the ground, like her body wasnโ€™t inches from Rohanโ€™s, their legs practically intertwined. She let go with one hand and lifted the chain off her shoulder and up over the top of the flagpole.

Nice to meet you, Savannah Grayson.ย Rohan had wanted to know who she was. Sheโ€™d shown him.

By the time theyโ€™d made it back down the pole, the two of them were no longer alone.

Savannah favored her right leg as she landed on the ground beside the interloper.

โ€œYour knee, Savannah.โ€ Grayson Hawthorne bore a striking resemblance to his half sister. Both of them kept their emotions tightly locked awayโ€”or tried to, at least.

Physical locks werenโ€™t the only ones that Rohan had taught himself to pick.

โ€œIโ€™m fine.โ€ There was a note of tension in Savannahโ€”not in her voice or in her face, but in the long, graceful lines of her neck.

Someone did not appreciate being reminded of her weaknesses.

And someone else didnโ€™t appear to appreciate how close to his sister Rohan was standing.

โ€œElsewhere.โ€ Grayson let that word stand on its own for a second. โ€œThat,โ€ he clarified for Rohan, โ€œis where you want to be right now.โ€

The brother was overprotective. The sister didnโ€™t want to be protected.

Whether or not he knew it, Grayson had just done Rohan a favor.

โ€œIs this the โ€˜stay away from my sisterโ€™ speech?โ€ Rohan smirked in Savannahโ€™s direction. โ€œHeโ€™s right, love. Iโ€™m a very, very bad ideaโ€”unless youโ€™re a hedonist, and then Iโ€™m a very good one.โ€

Grayson took a single step forward.

โ€œDonโ€™t,โ€ Savannah ordered her brother. โ€œI can take care of myself.โ€

โ€œI can see that.โ€ Rohan lingered on that statement. โ€œThough, in your brotherโ€™s defense, there is some chance heโ€™s carrying a grudge about that whole business with the ribs.โ€

โ€œRibs?โ€ Savannah said.

โ€œJamesonโ€™s,โ€ Rohan clarified. The incident in question had happened in the ring of the Devilโ€™s Mercy. โ€œIt was amicable,โ€ he continued lightly, โ€œas far as rib-breakings go.โ€

Contrary to his tone, Rohan hadnโ€™t enjoyed it. Jameson Hawthorne was one of those people who didnโ€™t know when to stay down.

Grayson Hawthorne seemed to exhibit more restraint. He ignored Rohan’s provocation, instead directing his intense focus back to Savannah. “You had surgery just three months ago. Your knee can’t be more than eighty percent.”

A flicker of something crossed Savannah’s eyes, and for a moment, Rohan noticed a tension in her that extended beyond her neck.

The body never lies, Rohan thought.

“We both know I don’t do eighty percent,” Savannah replied to Grayson. “As luck would have it,” Rohan added, “neither do I.”

Savannah held his gaze for a full three seconds, which felt intriguingly like a challenge, before she sprinted into the forest like an Olympic runner off the starting block.

Rohan quite enjoyed watching her go.

“It would be wise,” Grayson said, his tone calm but his words as sharp as a blade, “for you to stay away from my sister.”

Rohan considered letting Grayson have the last word. After all, Grayson was the Hawthorne responsible for enforcing the rules of this game, whatever those might be. Backing off would be the safer option. But Rohan had a theory to test, and he hadn’t achieved his success by playing it safe.

“I’d be happy to stay away from your sister,” Rohan said. “Both of them, actually.” He fixed his gaze on Grayson and decided to run a little experiment. “But that would mean turning all my attention to Lyra Kane.”

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