Chapter Three: A Symphony of Traps
783 Words
The auditorium was alive.
Lights flickered across the ceiling like stars preparing for war. Velvet curtains breathed with anticipation. The stage—glossy and golden—waited to be claimed by voices that could stir a nation.
Tonight wasn’t just a concert.
Tonight was bait.
---
Six Hours Before the Show
In the girls' green room, Areniel paced, barefoot, trying to shake off the weight in her chest. She was dressed in shimmering silver, but her eyes held shadows. Renelle adjusted the mic on her jacket while Rachel hummed to calm herself.
“I don’t like this city,” Areniel whispered.
“We’ve only been here a week,” Renelle said. “Give it time.”
“No.” Areniel looked at her reflection. “It feels like the city knows us. Like it's waiting.”
Their mother entered, holding three envelopes.
“These just arrived,” she said. “From the school board. Personal letters.”
They each opened theirs.
Areniel’s read:
You were never meant to return.
But now that you have, the blood must spill.
Welcome home, daughter of betrayal.
She dropped it, hands ice-cold. The others read the same.
Rachel’s voice cracked. “Who knows?”
Their mother took the letters, burned them in a candle’s flame, and said nothing. But in her silence, they saw the truth.
Someone knew.
And they were being hunted.
---
Elsewhere: In a Hidden Basement beneath the School
Riley stood before a wall lined with weapons—nonlethal darts, silencers, communication jammers.
“I want the two younger ones taken before midnight,” she ordered the mercenaries Pandemafia sent. “Do not touch Areniel.”
“Why spare the eldest?” one asked.
“She belongs to my brother,” Riley hissed. “Father has plans for her.”
“What about witnesses?”
“Erase them.”
---
During the Show
The auditorium exploded in cheers as the girls took the stage.
Areniel opened with a solo, her voice smooth as velvet and piercing as a knife.
The crowd fell under their spell.
But beneath the cheers… were watchers.
Kenzie stood backstage, wearing all black, eyes sharp. He had slipped past security, hidden in the shadows. Not to help his father—but to find out the truth.
He’d seen Areniel’s birthmark in a viral photo a week ago.
He couldn’t shake the feeling.
Was she really… his sister?
Kendra, always stubborn, had refused to talk about it. Kendall, silent as ever, had only given one answer:
“If she is, she shouldn’t be here.”
---
Midway Through the Concert
Renelle stepped offstage for a quick costume change.
That’s when the lights flickered.
The power dipped.
And in the hall outside her dressing room… something moved.
She turned slowly.
Two men in masks lunged from the shadows.
She screamed—kicked—ran.
But she wasn’t fast enough.
They dragged her down a service hallway, injected her with something, and vanished through a hidden door.
---
In another wing, Rachel had just finished a solo when she noticed something odd.
The audience… was starting to leave in clusters. No noise. No panic.
Just… leaving.
She moved backstage—but there was no Renelle.
She turned—and came face to face with a tranquilizer dart.
It missed—barely.
She sprinted. Through hallways. Up stairs. Screaming her sister’s name.
Nothing.
Silence swallowed everything.
---
Meanwhile: Areniel on Stage
Something was wrong. The crowd looked foggy, disconnected.
Where were her sisters?
Then she saw them.
Not her sisters.
Three men. One in the far left aisle, one near the balcony, one slipping out of the green room.
All dressed alike.
Areniel stopped singing.
The music died.
Then, from the other side of the auditorium—
Gunshot.
Screams.
Panic.
She bolted.
She made it only halfway down the stairs before someone tackled her.
Then—
Bang.
The man pinning her was shot clean through the chest. Blood sprayed across her gown.
She turned.
Kendra stood at the edge of the stage, gun still smoking.
Kenzie pulled her up.
“We don’t have time!” he yelled. “They’ve taken Rachel and Renelle!”
“Who ARE YOU?” she screamed back.
“Your brother,” Kendall said from behind, stepping out of the smoke.
---
Elsewhere: Riley’s Room
She watched the chaos unfold through a hacked security feed, lips curled into a grin.
“Perfect,” she whispered.
Her father appeared behind her.
“You did well.”
“But Areniel escaped,” she said.
Pandemafia lit a cigar. “She won’t run far.”
He turned toward the window.
“Soon, the past will come to collect its debt.”
---
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- Writer
