Alyssa’s POV
“Are you sure about this?” Isabella asked, her voice a low murmur as we stepped out of the unmarked black car. The stale air of the underground parking structure pressed against my skin like a warning, heavy and unrelenting.
“No,” I admitted, adjusting the thin black scarf draped over my shoulders. It was more for appearances than concealment-this place didn’t welcome strangers lightly. “But we don’t have another lead. If this auction gets us closer to the Circle, I’ll take the risk.”
Leon stepped out behind us, smoothing his tailored jacket like we were about to walk a red carpet instead of into the lion’s den. “Relax, ladies,” he said with a cocky grin. “This isn’t my first rodeo.”
“Forgive me if I don’t find that comforting,” Isabella muttered, her hand resting discreetly on the concealed weapon at her side.
“Focus,” I said sharply. “Leon, remind me again why the artifact matters here.”
He turned, his expression momentarily serious. “Because the Circle doesn’t trust anyone outside their inner sanctum. This auction? It’s not just about money. It’s about power, connections, and proving you’re worth their attention. The artifact is our ticket in-it’s something they want, something they’ll respect.”
“And if they don’t?” Isabella asked, her tone icy.
Leon shrugged, his smirk returning. “Then we improvise.”
I glanced at Isabella, who rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. Together, we followed Leon through a nondescript steel door and down a dimly lit staircase that spiraled deeper underground.
The hum of voices and faint strains of classical music greeted us at the bottom, growing louder with each step. The air shifted, cooler now, laced with the scent of expensive cigars and aged whiskey.
“Stay close,” Leon said over his shoulder, his voice quieter now.
I didn’t need the reminder. The room we entered was vast and opulent, an unexpected contrast to the grimy exterior. Crystal chandeliers cast fractured light across marble floors, and figures draped in designer gowns and sharp suits moved like predators circling prey.
“This isn’t just an auction,” Isabella murmured, her eyes scanning the crowd. “It’s a playground for the elite.”
“Exactly,” Leon said, leading us toward a registration desk flanked by two menacing guards. “Which is why you two need to look like you belong.”
I straightened my posture, trying to project confidence I didn’t entirely feel. When the woman behind the desk asked for our credentials, Leon handed over a slim black card embossed with an unfamiliar crest.
The woman’s gaze flickered over us, her expression unreadable. After a tense moment, she nodded. “Welcome to the Conclave Auction. Enjoy your evening.”
We passed through another set of doors into the main hall, where items displayed on raised pedestals gleamed under the spotlight. Jewelry, rare artifacts, and even what looked like confidential documents were on display, each with a small plaque detailing its worth.
Leon leaned closer to me as we walked. “The artifact will give us access to the back rooms. That’s where the real deals happen.”
“Back rooms?” I echoed, glancing at him.
“Think of them as the Circle’s version of VIP lounges,” he said. “Only the truly connected get in.”
Before I could respond, a shiver ran down my spine. The feeling was subtle at first, like the lightest touch against my skin, but it grew stronger, more insistent.
“Someone’s watching me,” I murmured, scanning the room.
Isabella stiffened beside me, her hand dropping to her sidearm. “Who?”
“I don’t know,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. My eyes darted from one face to another, trying to pinpoint the source of the unease.
Leon glanced at me, his brow furrowed. “Stay calm. Whoever it is, don’t let them see you panic.”
Easier said than done. My heart pounded in my chest as I forced myself to move casually, pretending to study the items on display.
Then I saw her.
At first, I thought it was a trick of the light or my mind playing cruel games. But as I blinked and looked again, there was no denying it. Standing near the edge of the room, her dark hair swept into an elegant bun, was a face I hadn’t seen in over a decade.
A face I thought I’d never see again.
“Mom?” The word slipped out before I could stop it, a whisper barely audible even to myself.
“What?” Isabella asked sharply, following my gaze.
I couldn’t answer. My throat had gone dry, my legs rooted to the spot as memories surged to the surface. The last time I’d seen her was in a hospital room, hooked up to machines that couldn’t save her. She’d died-she had died.
Yet here she was, alive and well, her posture regal as she stood among a group of well-dressed elites.
“Is that…?” Isabella trailed off, her eyes wide.
Leon noticed my reaction and followed my line of sight. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he muttered, his tone laced with disbelief. “Didn’t see that coming.”
“She’s supposed to be dead,” I said, my voice shaking.
Leon’s eyes narrowed. “Looks like she’s not. And if she’s here, that means-”
“She’s with them,” Isabella finished, her voice grim.
My mind raced, a thousand questions clamoring for attention. What was she doing here? How was she alive? And most importantly, why was she standing with the very people who had destroyed my life?
Before I could process any of it, she turned. Her gaze swept across the room-and locked onto mine.
For a moment, the world seemed to stop. Her expression didn’t change, but something flickered in her eyes. Recognition? Regret? I couldn’t tell.
“Alyssa, we need to move,” Isabella said urgently, tugging on my arm.
But I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe. All I could do was stare at the woman who had raised me, loved me, and-apparently-lied to me.
She smiled, a slow, deliberate curve of her lips that sent a chill down my spine. Then she turned and disappeared into the crowd, leaving me frozen in place with the undeniable truth: my mother was alive, and she was one of them.