Kidnapping doesn’t exactly feel like a remote possibility tonight.
Human trafficking rings exist.
People disappear in cities like this all the time.
No one would even notice if I vanished.
That thought lands heavier than the others.
Because it’s probably true.
My family certainly wouldn’t care.
The elevator dings again.
Twenty-five.
I shift my weight, suddenly aware of the way my pulse has picked up.
Maybe I should leave.
The thought flashes through my head quickly.
Just hit the lobby button.
Walk out.
Pretend none of this ever happened.
Twenty-six.
But then the doors slide open.
And curiosity wins.
I tie the lace mask behind my head and step out.
The hallway is dimly lit, which was kind of expected, soft golden lights running along the walls like a runway guiding me forward.
Music pulses faintly somewhere ahead.
Deep bass. Slow. Seductive.
I follow the sound. And then I reach the doors. They’re already open.
The moment I step inside, the atmosphere hits me like a wave.
The room is freaking massive.
Dark velvet drapes hang from the ceiling, the lighting low and warm. Gold accents everywhere – tables, candle holders, champagne trays drifting through the crowd on silver platters carried by silent servers.
And masks.
Everyone is wearing one.
Some simple. Some more elaborate. Some with feathers. Some with gold leafs. Others with black leather.
There are probably at least a hundred people here, maybe more.