The room feels colder now, like a storm brewing just outside, the tension thick in the air. I can hear the steady rhythm of my heartbeat in my ears as the door slams open, and the newcomers step inside.
There's no mistaking it now—this is bigger than I could've ever imagined. Max, Mila, and the others seem to know exactly who these people are, but I don't. And it's too late for introductions now. The game has begun, and I'm already caught in the middle of it.
The figures that step through the door are clad in black, their movements sharp and purposeful. Their eyes scan the room, sweeping over us like they're assessing the threat. Or maybe they're just deciding who to trust. I don't know which is worse.
Mila's smirk deepens as she watches my reaction, but there's something more to it now. It's a challenge, as if she's daring me to defy her.
"Amara," she says, her voice like silk wrapped in ice. "You've made your choice. Now, you live with it."
I glance at Max, who's standing beside me, his face pale but resolute. He doesn't seem to care that the newcomers have entered, but there's something in his eyes that tells me he knows this is a turning point. This is where everything changes.
The leader of the new group steps forward, a man whose presence is impossible to ignore. He's tall, his face obscured by a mask, but his eyes—his eyes are sharp, calculating, like a predator sizing up its prey.
He looks at Mila first, then shifts his gaze to me. His expression is unreadable. "Is she the one?" he asks, his voice low and steady.
Mila nods, her lips curling into a grin. "Yes. She's the one who opened the envelope."
The man's eyes narrow as he steps closer, his gaze piercing through me like he's trying to figure out what I'm thinking. But I can't read him. His mask tells me nothing.
"I've heard a lot about you, Amara," he says, his voice cold but oddly familiar. "You've been stirring up trouble. But now, you've crossed a line. There's no going back from this."
The words sink into my chest like stones, and I feel the weight of them pressing down on me. I didn't ask for any of this. I didn't ask to be part of whatever dangerous game this is. But here I am, standing in the middle of it, with no idea how to get out.
"I didn't choose this," I say, my voice shaky but defiant. "I didn't ask for any of this."
The man tilts his head, studying me. "No one ever asks for it, Amara. But once you're in, you can't get out. You should've known that before you opened the envelope."
Max steps forward, his voice strained. "Enough, Jaxon. She's not part of this. She's not involved."
Jaxon—so this is his name—laughs darkly. "You think she isn't involved? She's already more involved than you think, Max. You should've never brought her into this."
The anger in Max's eyes flares. "I didn't bring her into anything. She made her own choice. And now she has to live with it."
But I don't want to live with it. The weight of Max's words settles over me, and I realize the truth. There's no escaping this. No walking away.
I feel a chill creep up my spine as Jaxon's gaze locks onto mine again. "The envelope wasn't the only test, Amara," he says, his voice low. "That was just the beginning. Now comes the real challenge. You'll have to prove you're ready for what's next."
"What do you mean?" I ask, the words barely escaping my lips.
Jaxon's eyes flicker, a glimmer of something dark in them. "You'll see soon enough."
Before I can ask anything more, there's a sudden crash—loud, jarring—and then the sound of footsteps running down the hallway. The group tenses, their attention snapping toward the noise.
Max's face turns pale. "They're here. We don't have much time."
"What do you mean?" I ask, panic rising in my chest. "Who's here?"
But Max doesn't answer. He's already moving toward the door, his face grim, his posture rigid with purpose.
Mila steps forward, blocking the doorway with her presence. "No one leaves. Not yet."
Jaxon raises a hand, signaling for Mila to step aside. "We need to move. Now."
The urgency in his voice snaps me out of my panic, and I find myself following Max toward the door, despite the overwhelming sense of dread that fills me. I have no idea what's happening, but I do know one thing: this isn't over. Not by a long shot.
We exit into the hallway, and the others follow, their faces grim. The silence is oppressive, broken only by the sound of footsteps echoing off the walls. I'm not sure where we're going, but Max seems to know.
We round the corner, and that's when I hear it—the unmistakable sound of gunshots. Multiple shots, loud and sharp. The air thickens with fear, and I realize just how much danger we're in.
Max's hand wraps around mine, pulling me along faster. "Stay close," he mutters, his voice low and urgent.
The chaos around us seems to increase with each passing second, and I feel a knot of terror form in the pit of my stomach. I don't know what's happening, but I know we're running out of time.