“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
He smiled. Slow. Dangerous in the best way.
Not because he always won. Because she never let him win. Because she’d sacrifice her knight just to watch him second-guess his queen. Because Juniper wasn’t a name you whispered lightly—it was a root system, deep and tangled, and playing her meant earning every single inch of ground.
She placed the first piece without looking at it. Black. Aggressive.
“Then don’t cry when I burn your opening to ash.”
“You sure?” she asked, one eyebrow raised.
He laughed, low and warm.