Many people have secrets, but none are as dark as the one that Elizabeth Allen holds close to her heart. Or so she thinks.
Her eyes flutter open and once she realizes that she's not in her own bed, she jolts upwards. The room is dim, but used to working under the cover of the shadows, her eyes quickly adjust.
This definitely isn't her bedroom. She stands up and in a flash was feeling her pants and sleeves for her belongings.
Elizabeth sighs in relief when her hand brushes against the bulk of the knife that was in her hidden pocket. She cautiously scans the room to assess the situation.
"Who are you?"
She nearly jumps at the sudden noise and glares in its direction. Who was that? The figure advances and Eliza reaches for her weapon.
"I might ask you the same question," she replies evenly.
Now that he was closer, Eliza could see that the figure wore a smug grin.
"I asked first."
"Who I am doesn't concern you," she snaps. He takes another step forward, their noses an inch apart. Shivers go down her spine when she feels his hot breath on her neck.
"Actually it does," he whispers. "Because we're not the only ones trapped in a room with no obvious exit."
Eliza takes a moment to look around again, and sees that there are no windows or doors. They are stuck.
The strand of her hair is within his fingers' reach. Once again, he lunges for her, but this time Eliza catches his wrist before it can brush against her face. Her knife flashes in the air and suddenly she holds the blade at his throat.
"What is your name?" she asks. She could only feel so sure that this is a body similar to hers if she has been stalking him before now. Something about him seems different from other humans; the way he moves, the way he holds himself, even the way he acts — it all makes him stand out like a sore thumb among the humans who surround her.
His mouth turns up into a grin as if he knows something she doesn't. But she gets distracted by his eyes. They are deep pools of brown that seem too old for his adolescent face.
She shifts her weight ever so slightly and feels her knees sink into the carpet as she presses down on him harder with her knee and blade, relishing the fresh drops of blood that now stain its tips.
"I asked you a question!" she says, injecting an edge in her tone. He winces at her words that cut off sharply like knives. His eyes lower in submission and for a moment she feels victorious —until something shifts under them...something mischievous, like that swarm of butterflies running amok inside of her stomach when someone is looking at her right.
Only it's multiplied by tenfold because she has no idea what he is thinking or how he feels about what is going on between them. That mysterious smile returns to his lips...and then they're upside-down?
He had reversed their positions, him now being the one on top of her. Eliza's eyes widen in shock. Looks like she'll have to be careful around this guy.
"If you must know, it's Presley. London Presley." He stands up and offers her his hand.
Great, so he's chivalrous too. Why does that name sound familiar, Eliza wonders. She knows she has heard it before. Oh! Yes! While on a mission in London, she was to steal a very important file from Interpol. Presley was to be her informant, but never showed up.
Then it clicks and her eyes angrily flash in recognition.
"You!" she spat. He looks at her in surprise but sees her hand a second too late. With gritted teeth, she rears back her hand and strikes his cheek twice with a deafening crack. He winces in pain as red handprints appear on his skin.
Presley hisses and stumbles backward.
"What the hell was that for?!" he cried indignantly, babying his cheek. "I don't even know you!"
Eliza scoffs. "Don't know me? You left me hanging off the side of a building with no sense of direction! I almost failed that mission because of you!"
He studies her and then it dawns on him who she is. "Shoot...you're Miss Allens, aren't you?" London cringes when she nods. A brief flicker of what seems to be remorse passed over his face. "I'm sorry about that, Allens, but something came up."
"More important than stopping Inter–" Elizabeth quickly closes her mouth, realizing that there could be others listening. "More important than what was at stake?" she finishes.
"I know, I know. I didn't do my job, and my father really grilled me afterwards...I shouldn't have left you alone like that. But there was a more...urgent matter that I had to attend to."
"And what was that?" Elizabeth is tempted to tap her foot, but instead pretends to inspect her flawless red nails.
London remains silent. She follows his gaze and sees that there is someone else in the room.
Actually, there are three more people in the room where they are still trapped in with seemingly no way out.
"I don't know what this is all about," a feminine voice says, gesticulating. "But if you two think you're intimidating, think again. There are far worse people in this room."
Elizabeth peers in the shadows and shakes her head. "Please. No one's worse than me."
"You sure about that?" a deep voice booms. Chills run down her spine. She knows that accented voice.
"Oh my—Sasha?!"
"What kind of name is that?" London looks at Eliza, still babying his cheek. "You know him?"
"You could say that," she replies, not taking her eyes off Sasha.
Sasha speaks again, his voice echoing off the walls. "Let's just say Beth and I have some...history. And it seems you two have some too."
"You're Russian." London looks back and forth between Eliza and Sasha. "He's the enemy," he hisses through gritted teeth.
"Don't worry, I'm on your side." The Russian casts him a fake smile.
A light clicks on in the corner, making the three of them turn around. A petite girl under the lamplight smiles in amusement, a smile that is vaguely familiar.
"You didn't think to look for the lights?" the girl scoffs. "Seriously?"
Eliza narrows her eyes, taking in the girl's appearance. She has a feeling she has seen her before. The girl is small, with long, curly hair that falls over her shoulders in a waterfall of brown. Her eyes are a piercing blue that seem to sparkle in the light.
"Who are you?" Eliza asks, taking a step forward.
The girl tilts her head to the side, studying Eliza. "You don't recognize me?" she asks, amused.
Eliza shakes her head, her hand tightening around the hilt of her knife.
The girl steps closer to Eliza, her eyes locked onto hers. "I'm Carolyn," she says in a singsong voice.
"Carolyn?" Eliza repeats, her eyes widening in shock. "But that's impossible. Carolyn's—"
"Dead?" the girl, Carolyn, finishes for her, her smile widening. "Not quite. You thought you've killed me, and you thought that you'd completely ruined my reputation, but I am better than you think. You could never kill me, no matter how many times you've tried."
"Oh, my goodness." Eliza breathes. Today is just full of surprises. She wakes up in a room with no recollection of how she got there, her rival isn't dead, apparently, and her dangerous ex-lover is here, looking like he wants to murder London.
Although, she kind of wants to murder him herself for what he did. She doesn't feel one ounce of remorse for slapping him. He deserves a good thrashing, she thinks, I should really take care of that later and show him what real pain is.
"Unluckily for you," Carolyn starts, "I am faultlessly elusive, and there's nothing you can do about it."
"Oh? Is that a threat?" Sasha steps forward to the girl. "I know you. Internet sensation, yes?"
"You could say that," came the flippant reply.
Eliza wondered how Sasha knew who Carolyn Nethers was, but then, what person invested in social media didn't know of the iconic teen? She used to be a headliner and still has over two million followers on Instagram. She was, is, known as an Influencer. But thanks to the work of Elizabeth, Nethers' reputation went sour recently due to some ludicrous rumors that were partially true. The infamous model had lost over 200,000 followers because of this.
If only she had died when Eliza first tried to kill her. Then she wouldn't be here, wherever here is, trapped in a room with her. Not that she can't take care of herself.
Eliza reaches for the lipstick that triples as a laser and gun. If Carolyn, or anyone else for that matter, were to try anything, they'd be sorry.
"I don't mean to burst all your balls," Sasha says, "but if you haven't noticed, we are all still very much trapped in this room."
The shadowy corner of the room lit partially by the lamp was suddenly disrupted by that same distinctively feminine voice, saying "It's lucky for you that I'm good at making logical plans."
"Why should we trust you?" London asks, still eyeing Sasha warily.
The woman steps out from the darkness. "You shouldn't." A Cheshire-like grin appears on her face. "But I'm your only chance."
She eyes everyone in the room, then the grin becomes wider when her eyes fall on Elizabeth. "Hello, Eliza."
The said girl squints her eyes then holds in her breath when she recognizes who the woman is.
"Emilie! It's nice to see you again. I hope that your brother isn't too controlling these days?"
Emilie shakes her head. "No, Felix is still Felix." A glimpse of worry passes over her face, but it is so brief that Eliza thinks that she imagined it.
"Are you game to leave?" London asks as he gets up and touches the wall.
"You found it!" Emilie says. "I take back my doubts about you. Here," she places her hand on top of his where there is a button and the wall starts to creak open, revealing a poorly lit hall.
London doesn't seem to notice the indirect insult.
"Wow," Sasha whistles.
Eliza peers outside and sees a long hallway with solid oak doors on either side.
"It looks like we won't be escaping anytime soon."