The weight of the folded list presses against my thigh as I pace my apartment, trapped in the impossible choice in front of me.
Robert’s ultimatum echoes in my mind: kill, or be killed. But every part of me resists becoming the monster he wants me to be. I need another way-a way to survive without staining my hands with blood.
The walls of my penthouse feel like they’re closing in, suffocating me under the pressure. I take a deep breath, scrolling through my phone for distractions, but the messages from Ethan and Xavier are endless. Both men want answers, both want me under their control, and both are closing in fast.
My phone buzzes, and Ethan’s name flashes across the screen. I hesitate for a heartbeat, then answer, forcing my voice to remain steady.
Ethan: “You’ve been quiet, Alyssa. I don’t like it when you disappear.” His voice is smooth but carries an undercurrent of tension. “What’s going on?”
Alyssa: “Nothing you need to worry about.” I keep my tone clipped, evasive.
Ethan: “You forget I know you, Alyssa. I know when you’re scheming.” There’s a slight pause, then his voice drops to a murmur. “Don’t think I don’t know about Robert.”
My stomach knots, but I force a light laugh. “You know everything, don’t you?”
Ethan: “I know enough.” His voice turns cold. “Enough to know you can’t trust anyone. Not Robert. Not Xavier. Not even yourself.”
I grip the phone tighter, fighting the urge to lash out. He’s trying to shake me, make me feel cornered. But I won’t give him the satisfaction.
Alyssa: “Is that what this is about, Ethan? Making me doubt myself?”
Ethan: “No.” His voice softens, a dangerous lull. “This is about me keeping you alive. You’re smart enough to know that, Alyssa. But you need to make the right choice-before someone makes it for you.”
He hangs up, leaving me with nothing but silence-and more questions than answers.
I toss my phone onto the couch and pour myself a drink, but the whiskey burns more than it soothes. I’m caught between two monsters: Ethan and Xavier.
Both think they can control me, both think they know what’s best. But neither of them understands what I’m willing to do to stay free.
My hand drifts to the list in my pocket again, and I pull it out. Each name feels like a ghost from my past-people I thought I could trust. People I might have to destroy.
A knock on my door snaps me out of my thoughts. My pulse spikes as I glance at the security feed on my phone. It’s Isabella.
I hesitate. Does she know what I know? Or is she just another pawn in this game?
I open the door, keeping my expression neutral. “Isabella. What brings you here?”
She steps inside, her eyes sharp as ever. There’s something different about her tonight-a subtle shift in the way she carries herself, like she knows a secret I don’t.
Isabella: “We need to talk.”
Alyssa: “That sounds ominous.”
She gives me a tight smile. “It’s about Xavier.”
I motion for her to sit, but she remains standing, arms crossed. “He’s planning something, Alyssa. Something big. He’s been gathering what’s left of his allies-and he’s obsessed with you. If you don’t act soon, he’ll force your hand.”
Alyssa: “And what do you suggest I do? Run to Ethan?”
Isabella’s lips twist into a bitter smile. “Ethan’s no savior. But he’s desperate right now, and desperation makes people reckless. You could use that.”
I study her carefully, trying to gauge her true intentions. Is she here to help me, or to manipulate me?
Alyssa: “Why are you telling me this?”
Isabella: “Because you need to know the stakes.” Her voice lowers. “And because I want to make sure you come out on top.”
Her words should comfort me, but they don’t. Every ally feels like a potential enemy now.
I nod slowly, playing along. “Thanks for the advice, Isabella.”
She gives me a lingering look, as if waiting for something more, then turns and leaves without another word.
I sink back onto the couch, exhaustion settling over me like a heavy blanket. Just as I think I’ve caught a moment’s peace, my phone buzzes again.
The message is from an unknown number. I hesitate, then open it. A video file loads on the screen, and my blood runs cold as I recognize the face of the man in the video.
It’s Marcus Trent-one of the names on Robert’s list.
He’s tied to a chair in a dimly lit room, his face bruised and bloodied. A figure steps into the frame-a woman I know all too well.
It’s Isabella.
She’s calm, methodical, as she pulls a knife from her belt and presses it to Marcus’s throat. “This is what happens,” she murmurs, “when people pick the wrong side.”
My heart pounds as I watch in stunned silence. Isabella’s expression doesn’t waver as she drags the blade across Marcus’s throat, ending his life in a matter of seconds.
The video ends abruptly, leaving me with nothing but the chilling image of her cold, unflinching stare.
I sit frozen, the phone slipping from my hand. Isabella-my closest ally, the one person I thought I could trust-just executed someone on Robert’s list.
I replay the video in my mind, trying to make sense of it. Was she acting on her own? Or was this part of Robert’s plan?
A new message pings on my phone.
Unknown Number: You’re running out of time, Alyssa. Make your move-before someone else makes it for you.
My breath catches in my throat as the walls begin to close in. Isabella isn’t just a pawn in this game-she’s a player. And if I don’t act soon, I’ll be her next target.