Chapter one: Event Gala
755 Words
A loud shout echoed through the event hall. Every guest turned toward the front of the stage.
“Lock all the exits!”
Confusion spread among the crowd. Panic stirred, whispers rising like smoke. But Nyx only watched from the balcony, her sharp eyes following the security personnel as they rushed through the gala. One by one, every entrance was sealed. No one was getting out.
She glanced at the old man beside her. He looked calm—too calm, as if forcing himself to appear in control.
“What’s happening?” she asked softly, pretending to be clueless.
He slid an arm around her waist, holding her close.
“Don’t worry. I’m here,” he said firmly.
A personal bodyguard hurried toward them, his face tense and pale.
“Sir, we need to evacuate immediately,” the guard said, trying to stay composed.
Nyx noticed the slight shake in his hands—the kind that came from someone who had seen real violence.
“What is happening?!” the old man snapped. The guard flinched at his tone.
Nyx gently squeezed the old man’s hand, calming him.
“A son of—” the guard began, stopping when his eyes met hers.
The old man waved his hand, signaling him to continue.
“Mourin, the son of the Smith family, has been killed,” the guard finally said.
The color drained from the old man’s face.
“What?” His voice cracked.
Moments later, he followed the guard down the hallway, Nyx staying close at his side. Security flooded the area, checking IDs and controlling the growing panic.
“Don Alfredo,” a guard called near the exit, his eyes briefly meeting Nyx’s.
“All guests must follow procedure. Background checks will be conducted,” another officer announced loudly.
Nyx kept her smile calm and polite. On the outside, she looked relaxed. Inside, every muscle was tense, ready.
“Are you insane?! Do you even know who I am?!” the old man shouted, drawing attention from nearby guests.
Nyx’s smile widened just a little. This was exactly why she had chosen him—and every powerful person in this room.
As the old man continued yelling. Nyx's just at the side of him waiting for opportunity to slip.
“What’s going on here?” A man in a suit approached, surrounded by full security. Nyx observed him carefully. Is he the head of security? she wondered.
“This nonsense is trying to stop me from attending this event!” the old man shouted.
The suited man looked at the muscular guards beside him.
“Sorry for the inconvenience,” he said calmly, “but all guests—VIPs included—must follow procedure. These are direct orders from the Smith family.”
His eyes briefly met Nyx’s.
She felt nothing. She had already planned for every possible situation. She clenched her earrings gently.
Let the party begin.
Seconds later, a massive explosion shook the balcony.
The blast echoed through the hall. Guests screamed. Even the security officers ducked for cover. Smoke and fear filled the room.
The panic spread fast. Guests rushed toward the exits, desperate to escape another explosion or a fire.
Nyx blended into the running crowd, moving like an ordinary guest.
Outside the gala, police and security surrounded the entire area.
I should have just killed him with the explosion, she thought.
As she searched for an escape route, she spotted a lone police officer standing apart from the others.
She straightened her posture and casually walked toward him.
The officer stiffened as she approached. With one glance, Nyx knew he was new.
He gripped his gun too tightly. His breathing was uneven. His Adam’s apple moved as he swallowed again and again. He was terrified.
“S–Stop right there!” he shouted.
The noise from the crowd drowned out his voice. Nyx pretended not to hear him.
“This is your last warning! I said stop—”
He didn’t finish his sentence.
Nyx threw her hairpin.
It struck his neck perfectly—right where the drug would take effect fastest.
He collapsed instantly.
She didn’t waste a second. Nyx ran toward the back of the building, following the escape route she had already planned.
By the time she reached safety, the gala incident was already breaking news.
She opened her laptop.
A message appeared on her screen the moment she logged in.
“Nice work.”
Her phone buzzed.
$50,000 has been transferred to your account.
- Writer
