Chapter 4

The automatic glass doors of the Seattle-Tacoma International Airport slid open.

Jorden pushed his heavy luggage cart into the chaotic arrival hall.

He was suffocating inside a black windbreaker, a black baseball cap pulled low over his eyes, and a black surgical mask covering his face.

He kept his head down, his long legs eating up the distance across the linoleum floor.

Despite the layers, his six-foot-three frame stood out like a beacon.

A girl standing near the baggage claim narrowed her eyes. Jorden reached up to adjust the collar of his windbreaker, briefly pulling down his black surgical mask to take a breath of the stuffy airport air. The sharp angle of his jawline and his distinct, cold eyes were exposed for just a fraction of a second. The girl gasped, her eyes widening in disbelief as she recognized the profile from countless championship streams. Then, her gaze dropped and locked onto the custom silver SG logo embroidered on his backpack strap, confirming her wild suspicion.

She let out a piercing, high-pitched scream.

The sound ripped through the hall.

Dozens of people turned their heads.

A mob of teenage girls holding neon signs suddenly surged forward, their sneakers squeaking against the floor.

Four airport security guards sprinted past Jorden.

They threw their arms out, forming a human barricade to hold back the crushing weight of the fans.

Jorden's jaw tightened.

He didn't break his stride.

He turned his shoulder, angling his body toward the VIP exit corridor.

Camera flashes exploded in his peripheral vision, the bright white lights stabbing at his tired eyes.

People were screaming his game ID, the sound bouncing off the high ceilings and drilling into his skull.

He pushed through the heavy fire doors, shoving them open with his shoulder.

He stepped out onto the curb.

The cold, damp Seattle wind hit his face, carrying the smell of rain and exhaust fumes.

The chill helped clear the heavy fog of jetlag in his brain.

A black Mercedes sprinter van was idling by the curb.

Daisy, the team manager, slid the side door open and waved her arm frantically.

Jorden shoved his cart forward.

He grabbed his massive suitcase by the handle, his biceps flexing as he hurled it into the trunk.

He climbed into the back of the van, his long legs cramping as he dropped into the leather captain's chair.

Daisy slammed the door shut.

The heavy thud cut off the screaming fans instantly.

The van smelled like expensive leather and air freshener.

Jorden ripped the mask off his face.

He let out a long, ragged exhale, letting his head fall back against the headrest.

He closed his eyes, the muscles in his neck screaming in protest.

Daisy reached over and pressed a cold bottle of Evian water against his arm.

"Your popularity is worse than a Hollywood actor's," she joked.

Jorden didn't smile.

He took the bottle, twisted the cap off, and downed half of it in three massive gulps.

His Adam's apple bobbed sharply against his throat.

A violent vibration against his thigh made him flinch.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his personal iPhone.

The screen lit up with the caller ID: Eleanor.

His mother.

Jorden pressed his thumb against his temple, a dull headache starting to throb behind his eyes.

He swiped the screen and brought the phone to his ear.

"Mom," he said, his voice raspy from sleep deprivation.

"Are you on the ground?" Eleanor demanded, her voice sharp and loud.

"Yes."

"Good. You are going to the Corbett house this weekend. No excuses."

Jorden squeezed his eyes shut.

"Mom, the team just moved back to the States. We have to set up the entire base."

"I don't care about your video games," Eleanor snapped. "Martha took care of you when you were little. You owe them a visit."

Jorden's grip on the phone tightened until his knuckles turned white.

He knew he couldn't win this argument.

"Fine," he muttered. "I'll go buy a gift and spend half a day there."

"And dress nicely! Don't look like a homeless person!"

Eleanor hung up.

Jorden tossed the phone onto the empty seat next to him.

He turned his head, staring blankly out the tinted window at the dark green pine trees blurring past.

The name Corbett echoed in his head.

A memory surfaced: a little girl with pigtails, always crying, always following him around the yard.

The corner of his mouth twitched upward in a faint, tired smile.

He wondered what the crybaby looked like now.

Suddenly, a second phone-a dedicated black Android device he used strictly for his gaming affairs-buzzed inside his inner jacket pocket.

He pulled it out.

The screen lit up with a Discord notification.

It was a priority message from Aetheria.

Jorden's eyes darkened, the exhaustion bleeding out of his gaze as he stared at her name.