I would have tried to vote her out before but I was at lost and fucking stupid pretending be one of them when in reality I wasn't. But now… I know my purpose.
The votes were in.
Thirteen of us remained. Too many empty seats. The air is full of tension…
Selene Montgomery- 6
Me- 6
One undecided.
A tie.
For a second, silence blanketed the room. Heavy. Tense. Choking. Everyone looked around, trying to read the expressions of the others. Selene stood across from me, lips slightly parted—not in fear, but in rage.
Her eyes were venom. Sharp, hungry. Full of bloodlust. But what truly caught me wasn't the look. It was the twitch in her jaw, the flicker of something deeper. That wasn't panic.
That was hatred.
Hatred for me.
I didn't flinch. I didn't even blink. Instead, I smirked at her. Not out of arrogance, but calculation. Cold. Quiet. Dominant. A deliberate look that said: "I see you."
And I knew.
I wasn't going to survive the night.
Not unless I moved first.
My thoughts ran faster than my heartbeat. With the vote tied, there was no execution. Which meant the Mafia would have their turn. And I had just painted a target on my back with the blood of suspicion.
Tonight, they would come for me.
Of course they would.
That stare from Selene wasn't just resentment.
It was a promise.
I turned, slipping away from the circle of tense murmurs, and headed down the corridor. My footsteps were silent, but my mind screamed.
I needed leverage.
I needed Kara.
The fiend.
Her role could copy the ability of the dead. With the right move, she could protect me. Or at the very least, give me an edge.
The building was large, a twisted maze of old architecture and modern vanity. Velvet curtains, sleek marble floors, twisted staircases leading into shadows.
I searched.
And finally, I found her.
Tucked behind one of the lesser-used stairwells, in the dim spill of light, Kara wasn't alone.
Desmond.
The Penance.
They were kissing.
My steps froze.
Time stalled.
Desmond's hand was at her cheek, tender. Kara clutched his coat like it grounded her. And between them—something human. Something dangerous. In this game, love was a liability.
But I stayed hidden.
Watched.
Listened.
Kara whispered something, and he chuckled. The sound didn't suit him. He was usually quiet. Deadpan. Ready to detonate. But here, he looked different. Almost alive.
She pulled back slightly, and her face shifted—guilt, worry, fear. He pressed his forehead to hers.
"You should leave," he whispered.
"No," she said. "Not yet."
"You know what'll happen if he finds out."
"I don't care."
I couldn't tell who "he" was. Me? The Mafia? Someone else?
I backed away before I was seen.
This changed things.
Desmond and Kara—together.
Was that why she hadn't helped me earlier?
Was she being manipulated?
I clenched my jaw and turned toward the direction of my room. But my thoughts wouldn't quiet. Desmond had the Penance card. He was a suicide deterrent. Kara had the Fiend role. They both were invaluable. But if emotions tangled between them, they'd become unpredictable.
Too unpredictable.
And unpredictability gets people killed.
I had to act.
But first—I needed to survive tonight.
And I would.
Even if it meant using both of them like pieces on a board.
I quickly threw a pen onto the stairs, letting it bounce with a faint clack clack clack as it rolled down.
My footsteps echoed softly as I bent to pick it up, feigning innocence. I didn't glance at them—didn't need to. I felt the sudden shift in energy, like two children caught doing something forbidden. By the time I turned my head, they were no longer kissing. Kara had stepped a short distance away, fixing her hair nervously, and her breathing uneven. Desmond was back to his usual self—arms crossed, face unreadable, that quiet menace simmering beneath his eyes.
But I wasn't buying it.
In my head, alarms were going off. The way Desmond stood, a little too guarded. Kara's flustered state. The roles they held weren't just powerful—they were dangerous. Ticking bombs. The kind of cards that changed the tide of the game in a blink. And now they were... close?
Too close.
And in this game, that meant something.
"Hello," I said, with a carefully level tone. "What are you both doing?"
Desmond didn't flinch. But his jaw tensed slightly. A flicker. Barely noticeable—but I caught it.
Kara turned to me quickly, as if startled. "W-We were just... talking," she said, too fast.
I tilted my head, studying them both. Kara couldn't meet my eyes for more than a second. Desmond stared like a wall. No smile. No lie. Just... silence.
And yet, that said everything.
I smiled, slow. Cold. Calculated. If they wanted to play quiet games, I'd up the ante.
I walked toward Kara, every step deliberate. And before she could move, I gently reached for her cheek, cupping it in my hand—soft, like I owned her. My fingers brushed just under her eye, and she froze.
Her breath hitched.
She didn't pull away.
Or rather—she tried to. I felt her muscles tense beneath my touch, a slight flinch. But hesitation kept her there.
And that hesitation... meant everything.
Desmond moved before a word was spoken. His hand struck mine, hard—shoving it away from her face with a sharp snap. My wrist stung.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he said, voice low, restrained.
I didn't respond immediately. I turned to him, slowly, and looked him in the eye. I didn't speak like someone surprised—I spoke like someone intrigued.
"Oh? Did I touch something you own?" I asked, voice barely above a whisper, but sharp enough to cut steel.
Kara looked between us, caught like a bird between two wolves. Her lips parted, like she wanted to speak, but the words caught in her throat.
Desmond's fists clenched.
"You're not funny," he said.
I stepped a little closer, just enough to be invasive. "I wasn't joking."
The silence that followed was loud. Kara's breathe quickened. Her eyes flicked between us, wide with panic. But I wasn't looking at her anymore. I was watching Desmond.
Studying him.
He was trying too hard to stay calm. That alone confirmed what I already knew: this wasn't a simple alliance. Desmond was smart. Calculated. But he was showing cracks. Whether it was love, strategy, or manipulation—something had gotten under his skin.
And I'd found it.
"I wonder," I said, stepping back, "how much of this is part of your plan... and how much of it is just weakness."
Desmond didn't reply.
He didn't have to.
His silence said everything.
I turned back to Kara, who still hadn't moved. "Be careful who you let close, Kara," I said quietly. "Some people only hold your hand so they know where to stab."
She didn't respond.
And as I walked away, I could still feel both of their eyes on my back—one burning with frustration, the other with something much harder to read.
But deep inside, I knew I'd just flipped the board again.
And neither of them knew it yet or anyone Ill gladly bring the victory to the civilian side no matter what.