Chereads / Death's Messenger - Kill Them All / Chapter 7 - Fractured Alliances

Chapter 7 - Fractured Alliances

The digital link stabilized, and the tension in the room was palpable.

Orion Lee leaned back in his chair, eyes scanning the faces of the remaining participants.

The disappearance of the second player loomed over them like a dark cloud.

Fear, disdain, and resignation played out on their faces, each one silently weighing the implications of what they had just witnessed.

"Looks like we're down a player," a woman in the corner muttered, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I wonder who's next," she added, a hint of sarcasm in her tone.

"Don't speak like that," another participant snapped.

"We need to focus. We should discuss what happened last night."

Orion's interest piqued.

"Good idea," he said, leaning forward.

"Let's hear what everyone has to say."

"Yeah, like anyone can trust each other in this mess," someone scoffed.

"Last night was chaotic at best. None of us can be sure how he was taken out."

A participant in white attire leaned back, a smug smile on his face.

"I had a lovely night at the bar, thank you very much. Plenty of beautiful company."

"Right, because that's what we should be discussing," another voice interjected, dripping with sarcasm.

"What about your run-in with the victim?"

"Run-in?" the man in white laughed, a hint of disdain in his voice.

"I was just enjoying my evening. You can't expect me to keep tabs on every little spat. Isn't that right, Jon?"

Jon, a wiry man with sharp features, shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"I was at the hotel all night," he defended, his voice shaky.

"You know I recognized him. It was a coincidence, not a motive."

"Coincidence or not, you had a fight with him," the man in white shot back, leaning in with an accusatory glare.

"That makes you suspicious."

"I didn't kill him!" Jon barked, the desperation in his tone ringing hollow.

"I have no reason to. We had our disagreements, but that's all they were!"

Others leaned closer, the air thickening with curiosity and skepticism.

"Who was he again?" one participant asked, glancing around as if hoping for clarity.

"Businessman," Orion supplied, his voice cutting through the rising tension.

"Connected to a powerful group. That makes this a lot more complicated."

"Complicated how?" another participant queried, brow furrowing in concern.

"Means someone might want him out of the game. Or someone wanted to send a message."

A tall woman with braided hair leaned back, a skeptical look on her face.

"I find it hard to believe that anyone would take such a drastic step without reason. This isn't a random act."

"Really?" scoffed the man in white.

"Seems like you're trying to defend Jon here. You think he's innocent?"

"I didn't say that," she snapped back, irritation flickering in her eyes.

"I'm just saying we shouldn't jump to conclusions. Everyone's got their secrets."

Jon shifted nervously, his eyes darting around the room.

"Look, I have a past, alright?" he admitted, his voice trembling.

"Doesn't mean I killed anyone. I'm not a criminal."

The tension escalated, whispers racing among the participants.

"Criminal? Is that true?" someone asked, their voice laced with disbelief.

"Maybe he is wanted," another chimed in, throwing Jon under the bus.

"Could explain the fight."

Jon's sweat glistened under the harsh fluorescent lights.

"I'm not wanted for murder," he insisted, his voice rising.

"I just had some run-ins with the law, that's all."

"Just run-ins?" the woman with the braids asked, raising an eyebrow.

"That sounds a lot more serious."

The atmosphere thickened with distrust as everyone turned to face Jon, the walls seemingly closing in on him.

"What else are you hiding?" someone pressed.

"I didn't kill him!" Jon shouted, desperation lacing his words.

"I had a grudge, but that doesn't make me a murderer. You all know how brutal this game is. We all have our motives."

The participants exchanged glances, their expressions a mixture of fear and calculating ambition.

With the clock ticking, one participant, a quiet man with a low voice, tried to restore some semblance of calm.

"Listen, we don't have much time," he said, his gaze steady.

"We should use this time wisely. I ordered late-night snacks from the hotel last night. That's where I was. I have the receipt to prove it."

"Receipt?" someone mocked.

"Is that supposed to convince us of your innocence?"

"It's more than what you've given us!" he retorted, raising his voice slightly.

"Let's focus on surviving rather than accusing each other."

"Yeah, because that's so easy to do," another participant sneered.

"Everyone's just out for themselves here. How do we know the Reaper isn't watching us right now?"

"Or if they're one of us?" another voice chimed in, laughter betraying underlying anxiety.

"Enough with the jokes!" Orion snapped, cutting through the chatter.

"This is serious. We need to figure out our next steps before we're left with no options."

The group quieted, their eyes returning to Orion.

"We can't keep pointing fingers. We have to start forming some kind of strategy. Together."

"Or not together," someone muttered, clearly not buying into the sentiment.

Orion pressed on, "Jon, what did you and the second participant argue about?"

Jon's eyes widened, panic surging through him.

"Nothing important! Just some old business disputes. He was in over his head with some deals, nothing more."

"Old disputes?" the woman with the braids asked, leaning closer.

"Care to elaborate?"

"Why should I?" Jon shot back, sweat forming on his brow.

"Because it might help us figure out what's really going on here," Orion interjected, forcing Jon to hold his gaze.

Jon hesitated, the truth sitting heavily on his tongue.

"He was involved in a project that went wrong," he finally admitted, voice shaky.

"A lot of people lost money. I might've said some things that were… unwise."

"And unwise comments get you eliminated?" the woman in white asked, skepticism creeping back into her voice.

"Why do you care about this loser anyway?" Jon retorted, irritation flaring.

"Are you that desperate to save your skin?"

"Enough!" Orion interrupted, feeling the tension escalating again.

"This isn't getting us anywhere."

"But it is," the woman with the braids argued.

"Jon's hiding something."

"Like all of us," someone else said quietly, fear evident in their eyes.

The conversation spiraled again, each participant seemingly more interested in self-preservation than collaboration.

"Look, let's just admit it," Jon finally said, his voice rising above the chaos.

"We're all capable of doing whatever it takes to survive."

"Are we?" Orion challenged, looking each of them in the eye.

"Because that sounds more like a recipe for disaster."

The clock ticked down, its relentless count echoing through the silence.

"Maybe we need a new plan," Orion said slowly, feeling the weight of their shared mistrust.

"Something that keeps us safe from the Reaper, yet lets us investigate the elimination."

"Investigate?" the woman in white asked, eyebrows raised.

"You really think we can find the killer in this mess?"

"Yes," Orion affirmed.

"Because if we don't, we'll just be waiting for our own turn to vanish."

And as they reluctantly began to form a plan, a chilling thought struck Orion.

What if the Reaper was already among them, feeding on their fears and secrets, watching as they spiraled further into chaos?