The Black Swan's Final Revenge Pirouette: The 99th Game Was Mine All Along by Kylie Homme

Chapter 4

Within seconds, the messages disappeared from the chat, as if they’d been nothing but a hallucination.

Ariana stared at her phone, her hand trembling so violently she nearly dropped it. The realization hit her like a physical blow, driving the air from her lungs. The cold truth spread through her veins like poison.

Everything–her “accident” at the pool, her fever, the “medicine“-had all been meticulously orchestrated as part of their sick game. The pills Luigi had so tenderly given her, pretending to care, were specifically designed to intensify her suffering.

She’d known they were using her, had heard it with her own ears at the hospital, but experiencing it firsthand made the betrayal infinitely more devastating. The calculated cruelty of it all made her physically ill.

Her phone lit up with Luigi’s name.

“Where the fuck are you?” His voice was sharp with urgency, almost angry. “Why aren’t you at the apartment?”

Ariana took a deep, steadying breath, forcing herself to sound detached: “My fever got worse. I had to go

to the ER.”

The line went dead silent before Luigi responded, his tone suddenly softer: “I’m coming over. Which hospital?”

“Don’t,” she cut him off, her voice eerily calm. “They’re just giving me fluids and keeping me overnight. You seem busy with your… other priorities. Don’t let me interrupt.

Her controlled tone seemed to quiet something in him too. After several seconds of silence, he asked carefully: “Did you check your phone at all?”

So that

1. it. He wasn’t worried about her health–he was terrified she’d seen those messages, that their

game was exposed.

“No,” she lied, “The doctor said my temperature was dangerously high. I’ve been a little preoccupied with not dying to scroll through social media.”

Another weighted silence before Luigi spoke, his voice carrying an emotion she couldn’t quite identify. “As long as I’m around, nothing bad will happen to you. I promise.”

reassurance made her want to scream. A bitter

of pain she’d experienced over the past three years

Copier

to him. He wasn’t

evening. Ariana was discharged.

onto the sidewalk to call an Uber, a van screeched to a halt beside her. Before she could. process what

a desperate prayer: Please let this just be random, not another one of Luigi’s games.

motel room, wrists and ankles bound with zip ties. Four rough–looking men surrounded her, their expressions

her

do you

her mind, “Who are you? What do you

another one laughed, reaching for the buttons on her blouse. “That rich boy’s been hogging you all to

your boyfriend,” a third one said, pulling out

weakened state, she was no match for them. They laughed at her struggles, treating her resistance like foreplay.

tears streamed down her face. Despite everything, in that moment of pure terror, she still found herself desperately

summoned by her thoughts, the door exploded inward, wood splintering from its hinges.

THE FUCK AWAY FROM HER!” Luigi’s voice was unrecognizable–a primal roar of pure rage that made even

cockroaches, stumbling over each other in their haste to

at Luigi, what she saw stopped her heart–genuine fear in his eyes, raw panic, and something that looked dangerously close

it was like seeing an entirely

hands visibly shaking as he

too fresh. She flinched away instinctively, a broken seb escaping her lips as she pressed

genuine, but before she could process it, the room began to spin, black spots

in what she recognized as a hospital room.

the heard voices just outside her door–Luigi and

heated tones.

with rage. “Which one of you geniuses thought hiring men to sexually assault her was part of the

Tyler’s voice was dismissive. “We thought you wanted to speed things up. Ninety–seven down. just two more to go, then you’re free to be with

fall silent.