A DANGEROUS GAME

Elara’s POV

Before panic shot through me, I hardly had time to consider the stranger standing in the doorway. I shivered up my spine from the icy, mechanical glitter in his eyes. He simply stood there with the rifle in hand, pointed straight at Leo and did not talk right away. The room's thick tension was suffocating; the world outside of that moment appeared to vanish, leaving just us three imprisoned in this lethal game.

My heart was loud enough in my chest to make me believe it may silence everything else. Leo's eyes flicked toward mine, and for a split second there was a flutter of something—probably concern. But it vanished as fast as it arrived. Although his body was stiff, his mouth was closed and his face showed no anxiety.

He was not giving up. Not at the moment.

Though I didn't know him, the man in the doorway felt like a shadow, dark and pressing. He had assured, under control posture. He exuded the appearance of a guy accustomed to leadership and situational control. And right now he was in control. That was very evident from the rifle he held.

The man continued, his voice low and seeming bored: "You're not going anywhere." Still, it possessed an unquestionable threat. His gaze stayed on Leo, his grip on the rifle steady.

Leo moved forward, his body serving as a shield between the man and me. " Who the hell are you?" Leo's voice sounded like gravel, sharp and unforgiving, but it also carried something else—something I couldn't quite put in place. Anxiety is Question: Concern? Alternatively, just pure will.

Though it wasn't friendly, the man grinned. It was a chilly assurance of someone who had no trouble making people vanish, not warmth. "That's not important right now," he added, staring at me intently. "What's important is that you not meddle."

My chest contracted as his eyes locked on me, a flutter of identification across his face. But it vanished before my mind could process it. Though it hardly reached his eyes, his smile grew slightly.

"Elara," he replied, his voice frigid. "By now you should know that unless they follow the rules, nobody leaves this game alive. And you—" He stopped, his eyes roaming over me as though I were a riddle he was working on. "You fit like a wildcard. a rather risky wildcard.

I found myself silent. Uncertain of what to say, attempting to make sense of this twisted mess I discovered myself in, my mind was racing, attempting to put all that had transpired in the last few hours together. But no matter how hard I tried, it slipped through my fingers like attempting to hang onto water.

Leo responded, his voice quiet but with much steel, "Let her go." "This exists between you and me. Make a point with me if you want one.

The man neither flailed nor even acknowledged Leo's threat. He seemed calculating, disconnected, as if he already had five steps ahead of both of us. "This was never about you, Leo," he continued, his voice suddenly cutting. "This relates to Elara. You just happened to be in line.

His comments were weighty, the reality of them sinking deeper than I would have let me accept. Everything that had happened—Dmitri's treachery, the danger Leo and I had been in, Viktor's participation—all of it fit a bigger game. An unintentionally entered game I had. Furthermore, the stakes exceeded anything I could have ever dreamed of.

Leo changed his posture, and I could sense the thick, cracking strain in the air. "What do you want?" he asked, his voice strained with a mix of fear and rage. Behind his comments, I could hear the unsaid inquiry: What does this man want with her?

The stranger moved closer, slightly lowering the rifle but not setting it down. His gaze never left Leo, a chilly smile flickering on his lips. "I want what's mine," he declared just now. "Elara's liberty. And yours.

At his words, I found my breath stopping in my throat. Mine.The word hung there, weighty and oppressive. Though I had heard it before, hearing it from this man—someone I knew nothing about—someone who didn't fit in this warped world I had grown to live in—my gut turned over.

I moved forward, my voice wobbly but resolved. "I'm not a possession," I muttered, the words alien on my tongue, as I tried to persuade myself more than I was trying to persuade him. "I'm not someone to control."

The man turned to look at me, and for the first time I saw a flutter of something more than apathy. Comparable to entertainment. "You feel you have options in this, Elara?" Though his voice was patronizing, there was something beneath it that caused the hair on the back of my neck to stand on edge. "You already live in this, whether or not you enjoy it. You now have to decide how this turns out.

Leo's hand came out, snatching my arm, his grip solid but soft, as though he were grounding me. His voice low, he advised against listening to him. He is trying to frighten you.

The man arched his eyebrows, looking from Leo to me. "Scared her? Not at all I am just providing her with the facts. She is caught in a web of falsehoods and cannot get out."

Though the words would not come, I wanted to dispute and say anything to fight back. The weight of the reality of the situation was nearly intolerable. It was seeping in. This transcended Leo and me now. This addressed survival. And I wasn't sure whether we might survive.

Approaching me, the man narrowed his eyes as if he could see into my soul. "You can keep fighting, Elara," he whispered gently, almost too softly, as though he were speaking to a small child. "But nothing will be changed by it. At last you will be mine. You were constantly."

I shook my head; the words stung more than I intended them would. "I'm not yours," I said, my voice shaking with anger and terror. "I belong to none."

He grinned, a twisted, almost pitying one, then he sprang forward without abruptly, his hand flying to seize me.

But Leo came faster.

He was between us in a moment, his body a sturdy wall of safety pressing me behind him. His jaw closed in a manner I had never seen before as his gaze fixed upon the stranger.

Leo hissed, his voice so full of wrath that the man actually stopped for a second. "Get the hell away from her."

The man did not, however, back off. Rather, he laughed—a deep, terrible laugh that made my skin crawl.

"This is fun," he replied, the words bursting with sinister enjoyment. "But it's time to cut the game off."

Footfall sounded down the corridor, and I turned as my heart shot into my throat. From the shadows another person surfaced—a lady this time. She wore black, was tall, with sharp features and icy eyes. She seemed like someone who had seen too much, someone not hesitant to get their hands filthy.

The man nodded after peering at her. "It's time," he stated just now.

She moved forward, her eyes darting over the space until they locked on me with a terrible clarity.

The man told her, "You know what to do," and she went into her coat to get a sleek black gadget—another gun.

I stopped; my body responded before my mind could understand it. Every breath I took seemed like my last; the strain in the room was stifling.

The woman pointed the gun at me before I could respond; her finger hung over the trigger.

"Make your decision, Elara," the man continued, his voice icy and exact. "Thisends tonight."

And I sensed time slowly as the woman's finger moved, my heart pounding. Here it was. The ultimate decision. The last minute. Could I play this game and survive? Alternatively would I become simply another victim in a conflict never mine to fight?