CHAPTER 5 - GAME OF MASK
967 Words
Two nights later, the world of glass and power was replaced by gold and deception.
The VossTech Charity Gala shimmered across every social headline billionaires, diplomats, and influencers flooding the ballroom of the Grand Elara Hotel, all in masks, all pretending to be something they weren’t.
Elena fit right in.
A black mask traced in silver framed her eyes, hiding half her face, but not the sharpness in her gaze. The gown a dark, liquid fabric that clung like midnight — wasn’t her choice. Adrian had insisted.
“If you’re going to watch my back, Miss Rivers,” he’d said, handing her the dress box that morning,
“You’ll have to look like you belong beside me.”
Now, as she entered the ballroom at his side, she understood exactly what he meant.
Every pair of eyes followed them.
Adrian Voss was carved from the kind of arrogance that didn’t need permission to exist perfectly tailored, perfectly dangerous. His mask was black velvet, his expression unreadable. But his hand rested lightly against her lower back, claiming space without words.
She could feel the warmth of him even through the silk.
“Try not to look so tense,” he murmured. “You’ll ruin the illusion.”
She shot him a sidelong glance. “Illusion of what?”
“That you enjoy my company.”
He smiled faintly and she almost hated that it made her heart skip.
The orchestra swelled. Champagne sparkled. And under the crystal chandeliers, alliances were traded with fake laughter.
Elena scanned the crowd. Three security exits. Two guards she didn’t recognize. And one man near the balcony who had been watching Adrian since they arrived.
Her instincts prickled.
She leaned closer. “Nine o’clock. Navy tux. Doesn’t belong here.”
Adrian’s hand flexed against her back. “I see him.”
They moved together like a rehearsed dance drifting toward the suspect under the pretense of joining the waltz.
“Dance with me,” he murmured.
She blinked. “Now?”
“Yes. Eyes up, Miss Rivers.”
Before she could protest, his hand caught hers, the other settling at her waist. The contact burned hotter than the music surrounding them.
The world narrowed violins, murmurs, footsteps. Their movements perfectly synchronized. She was trained for combat, not this not the closeness, the rhythm that felt like a heartbeat shared.
“You’re good at this,” she said tightly.
“I don’t like losing control,” he replied. “Even on a dance floor.”
Her lips curved faintly. “And yet, you hired me.”
“Exactly.” His tone was low, intimate. “Because you make me lose it.”
She faltered only for a second but he caught her easily, his grip firm, confident. His eyes lingered on her face, studying her like a mystery he was slowly beginning to remember.
Then, his gaze shifted past her shoulder. “Balcony.”
The man in the navy tux slipped through the side doors.
Elena moved instantly.
She broke from the dance, heels gliding across the marble, vanishing through the crowd before anyone noticed. Adrian followed at a distance.
Outside, the city’s wind cut through the golden quiet.
The man reached into his jacket too fast.
She lunged, twisting his wrist, disarming him before the suppressed pistol cleared fabric. The gun clattered. He swung she dodged a blur of grace and precision.
One strike, one knee to the ribs, and he was down.
Adrian arrived just as she pressed the man’s face to the floor, mask cracked, weapon secured.
“Who sent you?” she demanded.
The man spat blood, laughing. “You already know, Ghost.”
The word froze her.
Adrian’s expression darkened. “What did he call you?”
But before she could answer a sniper flash from across the street.
She dove, dragging Adrian down as another bullet shattered the balcony glass above them. Security swarmed seconds later too late.
The shooter was gone.
The man she’d tackled dead. One clean shot through the heart.
Elena’s pulse thundered. Someone had silenced him.
Adrian stood slowly, brushing glass from his shoulder, eyes narrowing. “That was no random hit.”
“No,” she agreed, voice low. “That was a warning.”
He stepped closer, his mask half shattered, his eyes gleaming with fury and something else something that made her breath catch.
“You knew this was coming,” he said softly.
“Didn’t you, Miss Rivers?”
She couldn’t answer. Not with the name Ghost still echoing in her mind the codename she’d buried three years ago.
He searched her face, reading every flicker of guilt, every scar she thought she’d hidden.
The air between them tightened.
“Take off the mask,” he said.
Her voice faltered. “What?”
“Take it off.”
She hesitated then obeyed. The mask slid away, revealing the face he’d been staring at for days without truly seeing.
And in that instant he froze.
Recognition flared like lightning behind his eyes.
A memory a flash of blood, headlights, red heels walking away from wreckage.
“You…” he breathed. “It was you.”
She stepped back, pulse hammering. “Adrian, listen”
“The assassin in red.”
The ballroom music bled through the glass doors soft, beautiful, cruel.
Elena’s heart cracked open under the weight of his stare.
“You tried to kill me,” he said.
And the silence that followed was sharper than any bullet.
Before she can explain, the balcony door bursts open security shouting that another attempt has been made on Adrian’s life downstairs.
But as they rush inside, Adrian’s gaze never leaves hers.
For the first time, he doesn’t know if the danger is out there or standing right in front of him.
- Writer
