Fate of deception

Chapter 37 - Umaizah's POV

The tension in the room felt like the air before a storm—still, oppressive, alive with something unsaid. Amir's words echoed in my mind as we maneuvered between clusters of guests, his last warning sharpening my senses. He'd asked me to stay close, but the crowd was thickening, swallowing us both in its flow like a river too strong to resist. I scanned the faces, searching for answers in expressions that were practiced, concealed. It was as if every smile, every nod, was an unspoken promise meant for someone else.

To my right, a couple leaned in close, murmuring under the low hum of conversation. The woman's eyes flicked to me for a moment, and in her gaze, I saw something sharp, assessing, as though she were searching for a clue I didn't even know I carried. The man beside her watched Amir with a similar intensity. Were they waiting for a misstep? Or was it me they expected to falter?

I pushed the thought away, focusing instead on my breath, counting each rise and fall as if it were armor. There was a lesson in survival my mother used to tell me, about how a rabbit could stay perfectly still even when a predator's eyes were upon it. I'd never thought that skill would apply to me, but now, here, I was that rabbit, hiding in plain sight while the wolves circled closer.

And then, a sound—faint, the clink of glass, or perhaps something heavier—pierced the air. In that instant, the crowd shifted, leaning away from a disturbance at the edge of the room. People murmured, uncertain. My pulse quickened, and I strained to see. Someone had spilled a drink, or that was the excuse, at least, but the liquid that stained the floor was too dark to be wine. The sight of it drew more than glances; it commanded a quiet, unsettling attention. Just then, a couple was dragged out of the building by the guards. Shouting being let out as the guests all gasped as they watched the scenery. Above the entrance doors was a hologram, revealing the masked faces that were recently dragged out, exposing their identity as well as their elimination.

"Miss Eleanor eliminated"
"Mr Black eliminated"

Beside me, Amir tensed. His hand brushed against mine—a quick, grounding touch, as he pulled back, melting into the crowd. I didn't follow, not immediately. Instead, I stayed in place, observing from the periphery. From here, I could see how the others responded. The couple I'd noticed before was now watching the spill intently, but their reactions were dissonant: the woman's lips curved slightly, almost as though she were savoring a private joke, while the man looked uneasy, glancing over his shoulder.

The murmurs around us deepened, voices dipping into conspiratorial tones. I could almost hear fragments—a name, a warning, perhaps even a threat—though none of it was clear. Every sound was wrapped in an invisible thread, tying one conversation to another, as though the entire room shared a collective, unspoken secret.

And then, as if on cue, the lights dimmed.

The chandelier above glowed with a ghostly softness, casting shadows that stretched across the walls like reaching fingers. In the muted light, faces grew more mask-like, their expressions lost to the dark. People shuffled closer, drawn together by the sudden shift, their attention sharpening like the blade of a knife. The game Amir spoke of was beginning in earnest, though none of us had been given the rules.

A voice—the voice from the previous female host that echoed the room previously—cut through the silence. "Ladies and gentlemen," it began, smooth as velvet, "thank you for your patience. You have all been chosen, each for your own reasons. Some of you know why you're here, and some of you... have yet to discover it."

The words hung in the air like smoke, curling around us, filling the space with a strange kind of dread. I realized, with a sinking feeling, that the hostess wasn't speaking to the room—it was speaking to me. I looked to Amir, but he was lost in the crowd, his expression hidden in shadow.

Something was changing, slipping into place, like a key turning in a lock I hadn't known was there.