Chapter 29 Blake's Gambit

Blake Rivers - POV

The invitation came through channels my family has maintained for three generations—a simple business card slipped under my dorm room door with an address and time written in elegant script. No signature, but the paper stock screams expensive psychological consulting firm, the kind that teaches corporations how to break employee unions through strategic demoralization.

I've spent seventy-two hours preparing for this meeting by convincing myself that Emma Stone represents everything wrong with supernatural evolution. The technique requires complete psychological immersion—I can't just pretend to betray her, I have to genuinely believe she deserves it, at least temporarily. My family's expertise in psychological warfare depends on authenticity of emotional response.

The building housing Vera's operation looks exactly like the legitimate consulting firms my father contracts with—glass facade, minimalist lobby, the kind of corporate sterility that makes people feel simultaneously impressed and uncomfortable. But I catch the subtle tells that mark it as a front operation: security cameras with military-grade resolution, reception desk positioned to control sight lines, and the faint electromagnetic hum that suggests psychic dampening fields in the walls.

"Mr. Rivers," the receptionist says, her smile failing to reach eyes that assess me with clinical precision. "Dr. Kane will see you now."

The conference room smells like leather polish and anxiety-sweat, designed to make visitors feel simultaneously privileged and vulnerable. Vera sits at the head of a mahogany table that probably cost more than most people's cars, flanked by two psychics whose defensive postures I read like open books.

The woman on Vera's left keeps her fingers pressed to her temple while maintaining eye contact—telepath trying to seem confident while struggling against mental interference. Probably second-tier ability, enhanced through artificial means rather than natural development. The man on her right holds his shoulders with military precision, eyes tracking micro-movements throughout the room. Enhanced tactical awareness, but he blinks too frequently when focusing—neural implants causing sensory overload.

"Blake," Vera says, and I catch the calculated pause before my name, a psychological technique designed to suggest intimacy while maintaining professional distance. "Your message mentioned... career concerns regarding your current situation."

I let frustration color my voice with exactly the right mixture of anger and wounded pride. "Emma Stone has destroyed the balance of power that my family spent generations building. We created the psychic bond to control her abilities, but she's turned it into a leash around our necks."

The telepath's fingers twitch against her temple, and I watch her pupils dilate slightly as she attempts to read my emotional authenticity. This is where three days of psychological conditioning pays off—every word I'm speaking carries the weight of genuine belief because I've spent seventy-two hours cataloging every way Emma has made our lives more complicated, more dangerous, more unpredictable.

"Your family has maintained significant influence at Blackwood University," Vera says, leaning forward with the kind of predatory interest that lesser manipulators mistake for concern. "What specifically has Miss Stone done to threaten that legacy?"

"She's inverted the entire power structure," I explain, allowing calculated bitterness to leak into my tone. "Instead of serving as our psychic amplifier while remaining controllable, she's become the dominant personality in our network. Ryan abandons medical objectivity to accommodate her emotional responses. Cole's protection protocols prioritize her safety over strategic objectives. Kai produces prophetic art that serves her agenda rather than providing tactical intelligence for our families."

The enhanced perception specialist shifts minutely, and I catch the microscopic tell that indicates he's analyzing vocal stress patterns and finding them consistent with authentic emotional response. Vera notices his subtle nod and her smile sharpens.

"And you believe this threatens your position within the established supernatural hierarchy?"

"I know it does." I produce my phone with practiced smoothness, showing carefully curated recordings of Emma confronting university administrators, demanding policy changes, making decisions that override our families' traditional authority. "She's not our conduit anymore. We're her emotional support system, and she's using our psychic bond to ensure compliance with her moral imperatives."

What makes this deception so effective is that every piece of evidence I'm presenting is technically accurate. Emma has changed our dynamic, has made us more accountable to ethical considerations, has forced us to prioritize her safety over strategic advantage. The only lie is in framing these changes as problems rather than improvements.

The telepath removes her hand from her temple and gives Vera a confirmatory nod. "His emotional patterns indicate genuine resentment and fear of status displacement."

"Tell me about her current tactical vulnerabilities," Vera says, her psychological training evident in how she phrases the request to encourage detailed intelligence sharing.

This is the critical moment where I must provide information accurate enough to establish credibility while ensuring Emma remains protected. "The psychic bond creates emotional dependency that compromises her decision-making. She'll sacrifice strategic advantage to protect the four of us, even when doing so undermines her own position. During high-stress situations, her precognitive abilities spike beyond her control, leaving her temporarily incapacitated."

"Interesting. How long do these incapacitation periods last?"

"Anywhere from minutes to hours, depending on the psychic feedback intensity. But the recovery process strengthens her abilities exponentially—every attempt to exploit these vulnerabilities just makes her more powerful long-term."

Vera's eyes light with scientific fascination. "You're suggesting traditional suppression techniques would be counterproductive."

"I'm suggesting you need someone who understands her psychological profile intimately." I lean back with the confident arrogance that comes naturally after years of manipulation training. "Emma trusts me because she believes I've chosen loyalty to her over my family's expectations. That trust represents her greatest strategic weakness."

The enhanced perception specialist speaks for the first time, his voice carrying military precision. "You're proposing to exploit that trust."

The question hangs between us like a loaded weapon. This is where I either convince them completely or end up as another missing person case. I think about Emma unconscious in some medical facility, about Ryan performing surgical mutilation under threat, about the systematic elimination of enhanced individuals whose only crime is existing.

"My family built their reputation by choosing effectiveness over sentiment," I say, letting the absolute truth of that statement resonate in my voice. "Emma Stone represents a fundamental threat to supernatural governance as we've known it for centuries. If preserving the psychological warfare infrastructure my ancestors developed requires tactical betrayal of someone who's made herself an enemy of established order, then I'll do what's necessary."

I watch their micro-expressions shift to satisfaction as the telepath confirms my emotional authenticity and the perception specialist's posture relaxes into acceptance. Vera exchanges meaningful glances with her associates before turning back to me.

"What would you require from our organization?"

"Access to your research on psychic suppression technology and assurance that when Emma is neutralized, surviving Midnight Society members will be integrated into your operations rather than eliminated as security risks."

"The others would accept new leadership?"

"Ryan follows whoever provides the most fascinating research opportunities. Cole protects whatever group commands his loyalty. Kai adapts to any environment that offers belonging." Each statement carries observed truth, though I'm deliberately omitting context about their genuine devotion to Emma. "Without her influence shaping their priorities, they'll integrate successfully into established command structures."

Vera stands and extends her hand with practiced corporate professionalism. "Welcome to the evolution of supernatural governance, Blake. Your first assignment is comprehensive intelligence on Emma's daily routines, psychological triggers, and defensive capabilities."

I shake her hand, noting the slight tremor that betrays nervous excitement despite her controlled demeanor. "When do you need the intelligence report?"

"Within twenty-four hours. Recent developments at our medical research facility have accelerated our operational timeline."

Walking back toward campus through gathering darkness, I feel the psychological conditioning I've maintained for three days beginning to shift and settle into something more permanent. My infiltration succeeded perfectly—Vera believes I've genuinely betrayed Emma, giving me access to their plans and resources.

But the mental exercises required to convince myself of Emma's threat have left residual effects that feel disturbingly authentic. Her emotional decisions do compromise tactical effectiveness. Her trust in people who've manipulated her borders on psychological dysfunction. Her insistence on saving other conduits has exponentially increased danger for all of us.

By the time I reach Legacy Hall, I find myself mentally cataloging Emma's genuine vulnerabilities with the same clinical precision I once reserved for enemy targets. The list grows longer than expected: her empathic responses to others' pain, her tendency to sacrifice strategic advantage for moral imperatives, her psychological need for approval from the four of us despite our history of manipulation.

I pull out my laptop and begin typing, telling myself I'm compiling protective intelligence about Emma's weaknesses so I can better shield her from Vera's organization. But as the document develops into something comprehensive and strategically detailed, I realize I'm not writing defensive analysis.

I'm writing an operational manual for Emma's elimination.

My phone buzzes with a text from Emma: "Blake, something feels wrong through our bond tonight. You seem... distant. Are you okay?"

I stare at the message, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. The psychological conditioning that made my deception so effective has contaminated my genuine feelings, leaving me uncertain which emotions are authentic and which are artificially constructed.

Finally, I type back: "Just processing some family business. See you tomorrow."

As I save the document, my cursor hovers over the filename field. Without conscious decision, I type: "Stone Neutralization Protocol - Draft One."

Tomorrow, I'll deliver intelligence to Vera Kane that could destroy the woman I'm supposed to love. And the most terrifying realization is that part of me—a part that grows stronger each hour—genuinely wants to see what happens when that intelligence is implemented.