Chapter 4: The Stolen Name

Fin called Draven's name and Draven didn't move.

He just stood there with his hands in his pockets, looking at my panel.

"You heard him," I said.

"I heard him."

"Then go."

Draven smiled at me. It was the smile from the coffee room, the one he used when he was about to say something in front of witnesses.

"You first," he said. "You're still standing there."

The room was watching us. Forty people, most of them still shaking from their own panels.

I looked back at the mirror.

Draven's face was still in it. My body, my coat, my hands. His face.

I walked up to the glass and put my palm on it.

The reflection copied me exactly. Same palm, same coat, same lean shoulders.

Draven's face, sitting on top.

"How long," I said.

"Long enough," Draven said from behind me.

I turned around.

He was watching me with his head tilted, the way you watch something you own.

"You knew," I said.

"I always knew."

"You knew the whole time."

"I knew you'd never say it." He shrugged. "You never do."

The mirror behind me flickered and I saw it in the glass.

For one second my own face was back. Sandy hair, straight nose, dark eyes.

Then it went to his again.

I understood it then, all at once, standing in that cold room.

The panel wasn't showing me a lie. It was showing me what I had let happen.

Seven years of code with his name on the cover.

Nine games. Every one of them mine.

The launch deck. The press release. The awards dinner where he stood up and thanked his team and never said my name.

I had sat in the back row at that dinner and clapped.

I had clapped.

Fin walked between us and stopped at the panel.

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