Claimed By The Ruthless Esports Boss

of the Los Angeles Esports Center green room. It was a physical vi

closed. The noise outside was a chaotic storm, but insi

s right wrist. It was wrapped tight in black ki

otated his wrist just

m his median nerve straight up his forearm. It hi

e forced his facial muscles to remain completely blank, swal

iles strode into the room, a tacti

itors. His eyes snapped stra

into the pocket of his black TTC team jacket.

h and walked over, stopping

" Miles asked, his voice low enough t

Harlon replied. His tone was

ark eyes, searching for the micro-exp

hat made him the best jungler in the league. He projected total cont

rubbing the back of his neck, before tur

up! Bring it in

Chester, the team's mid-laner, vio

table, grabbing his phone and slam

e it went dark. He didn't see the specific words, but he saw the sender: a long string of random numbers, an

He caught the unnatura

f unnatural, cold sweat was beading along Chester's hair

ped his head, his hands frantically digging into his peripher

ll frame casting a long shadow over the sofa. He s

sick?" Ha

no. No, I'm good. Just... just

aced it heavily on Chester's shoulder. He squeezed,

gid. He felt like a block of

aring staff member poked his head i

He turned his back and walked toward

t out a long, shaky exhale. The air rushe

mbling fingers, grabbed his mouse from

ows. He didn't look at the flashing stage lights ahead. He turned his head a