The Masquerade

7 fin.

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This feeling… it was indescribable. Enveloped in Pride’s hold, he felt it: a pulse of intoxicating power that left him feeling absolutely…

Invincible.

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Noah’s eyes flew open, locking onto the panoramic glass roof where the city lights danced like dying stars across its surface. The storm had diminished to a soft patter of rain, and the gentle hum of the electric car glided along the freeway, lulling him into an uneasy sleep. Yet it wasn’t the sleep that disturbed him.

The rush of Pride’s power swept through him, compelling and addictive, much like the ecstasy pills he publicly condemned during Senate hearings while indulging in them at secret afterparties. Resistance was a fading illusion.

His fingers twitched, craving something solid, something real. The leather seat felt unreal, as if his power was a vapour, slipping through his fingers. His tongue felt swollen, and a cascade of disjointed thoughts surged through his mind.

Was this the aftershock of Pride’s power coursing through him? Or had the Macallan 25 finally knocked him off his game? He’d never been the lightweight—such weakness was an affliction best suited for Thomas.

The car sped smoothly forward, yet reality warped. Red and blue lights bled into one another; turning the world outside into an abstract painting. He shook his head, trying to dispel the haze.

“David,” he murmured, the words thick and slow on his tongue. “How long have I been… out?”

“For a bit, sir,” David replied smoothly.

“Define ‘a bit,’” Noah demanded, his gaze drifting to the empty whiskey glass in his hand before he carelessly tossed it into the cup holder.

David adjusted the rearview mirror, catching his passenger's reflection. "We've been on the road for a solid half hour since leaving the CBD.”

“Half an hour?” Impatience laced Noah’s voice. “And we’re still driving? What am I paying you for, David?”

“You looked so peaceful,” David replied. “Didn’t want to disrupt that… rare state.”

“So your solution was to take a scenic detour?” Noah’s tone was clipped. “How very efficient of you.”

“Well,” David shrugged, casual to the point of irritation. “I wouldn’t call it a ‘detour,’ exactly.”

“I don’t have time for this amateur hour joyride!” Noah’s voice rose. His mind, finally emerging from its earlier fog, calculated exactly how to crush David like the insect he was. Noah had handled worse threats, long before Pride had left that mess in his office weeks ago. “There are actual matters of importance waiting for me.”

“Press conference, or perhaps an eulogy for your beloved, only brother?” David asked.

Noah froze, momentarily thrown. “And how exactly would you—“ he said, catching himself mid-slip.

David leaned back lazily. “A touch of insight, let’s call it. After all, you did whisper ‘Thomas’ five times… while, shall we say, ‘under the influence.’ Enlightening indeed.”

Noah’s brows lifted in distaste, his mouth tightening. “Mind your tone, driver,” he growled, the word sounding like a slap. “You’re paid to keep silent, not to psychoanalyse.”

“I’m no analyst—just a concerned citizen observing a public servant in his… transcendent moments,” David murmured. “But hey, even the esteemed Senator needs his forbidden indulgences. Wouldn’t you agree, sir?”

“It’s Senator Blackwood.” Noah’s patience strained to its breaking point. Once this insolent driver dropped him off, he’d seize the opportunity to test this new power. “Do you have any idea who you’re talking to? The likes of you can’t even fathom the weight we carry. You’re f—”

"Fired?" David’s chuckle was low, rich, and entirely unruffled. “You already took care of that a while ago, in between your humming and that ridiculous grin. Must say, Cleo’s rendition—off-key as it was—had more staying power than your threats, sir. It still gives me shivers, truly.”

Noah’s eyes narrowed, his attention snapping to David as his mind registered the name. “Cleo… what?”

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

His gaze flickered toward the dash, noticing for the first time that David’s hands had never touched the wheel, the speedometer climbing past 250 km/hr. Outside, the landscape blurred into darkness. “Didn’t I warn you against using autopilot? Those who dare to ‘defy’ me often find themselves six feet under.”

“Oh? Are we confessing now?” David quipped, his hands returning to the wheel. “But no need to worry—you’re in safe hands. If I crash, I’ll be unemployed. And we wouldn’t want that… oh, but wait.”

“You—“ Noah scoffed. “A mere servant, making threats?”

“Threats? You really do flatter yourself, sir. My sole focus has been your safety.” David’s voice softened, slipping into a dangerously smooth tone that flirted with the line of femininity. He let both hands slide leisurely off the wheel. “Because someone as… irrelevant as you wouldn’t matter otherwise.”

“Irrelevant?” Noah’s fists clenched, voice taut. He could sense that David was testing the limits—no, daring him to cross them. “Hands. On. The. Wheel!”

“Trust me, you really don’t want my hands on the wheel, considering my questionable… well, let’s be honest, non-existent driving skills, but..,” David interrupted. “After surviving that endless road trip with my parents, I know everything there is to know about electric cars, mostly because I had to read the user manual cover to cover to stay sane. Their music, however, absolutely atrocious.”

Noah’s jaw dropped in confusion as David turned around, the lines of his weathered face beginning to… soften? The stubble seemed to melt away. As Noah blinked in disbelief.

"Your car is undoubtedly more sophisticated and faster,” the chauffeur continued. “That’s partly why there was a brief delay in my arrival. I had to take a moment to get to know this high-tech machine. But fear not—I’m a quick study in every respect that matters.”

Noah’s mind racing with the quickest and safest way to neutralise this threat. At this velocity, one wrong move could be fatal. He needed to buy time. "You're... not actually David, are you?"

“An astute observation,” the imposter replied, his voice now smooth and melodious.

“So who the hell are you, and what do you want?” Noah demanded, his voice hardening with authority as he subtly inched his hand toward his phone. Just as he was about to press a button, David—whoever or whatever he really was—suddenly jerked the wheel left.

The Senator’s body lurched against the door, a shocked gasp escaping him as his unfastened seatbelt left him vulnerable to the impact. His polished suit did little to soften the blow, and his phone tumbled from his grip, clattering to the floor as the car plunged onto a twisting, dimly lit road.

“Oops… This is why seatbelt laws exist. And to think, just last week, you were preaching about public safety,” David said.

“Where do you think you’re taking me?” Noah demanded, suppressing a groan and casting a panicked glance at the unfamiliar roads. They’d left the polished cityscape behind, hurtling into the rugged, neglected outskirts—places he only set foot in for photo ops during election season. Now, the broken roads and scattered streetlights were pulling him into hostile territory.

The luxurious car jolted, tires biting into gravel as they barreled forward at thrice the speed limit. Noah felt his splitting headache worsen. “Stop this car, now, you fucking imbecile!”

“Oh? Cursing now, are we?” David’s voice slipped into something silky and dangerously sweet—a lilting, almost musical tone—unmistakably feminine. “But hadn’t I warned you already?”

Noah’s vision blurred momentarily as he stared, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. David’s short blond hair shimmered, a faint, dark violet light dancing around the edges. His features began to shift, melting in and out of focus like a mirage. The blond hair stretched, curling and lengthening as it darkened to a shade of rich brown, cascading over slim shoulders.

A… woman?! He’d heard whispers of a power like this—a shapeshifter, an ability so rare it bordered on legend.

The stranger shrugged, allowing David’s oversized blazer to slip from her shoulders, landing on the seat beside her. The air became saturated with the alluring fragrance of lavender, banishing the musty scent of leather and cologne.

“What exactly did you warn me about?” Noah forced out, his voice tight as his heart hammered.

She sighed, rolling her eyes. “Honestly, you never listen, do you? Someone you consider beneath you?” She ran her fingers through her soft waves. “I told you to expect a turbulent night. And trust me, sir—I mean, Senator—I wasn’t just talking about the storm.”

“If this is a threat in any way—” Noah’s sentence broke off as the car shifted into autopilot. “Do you have a clue what you’re doing?”

“Isn’t it thrilling?” she replied with an exaggerated sigh. “Knowing your life is quite literally in your car’s hands?”

“You absolute lunatic!” Noah shouted, his refined senatorial voice trembling with anger.

She laughed softly, yanking the wheel without warning and sending the car skidding over a pothole. Noah’s head struck the roof, his neatly combed silver hair now a mess. “How disappointing,” she purred. “I expected you to deliver venom, not volume.”

Noah scowled, pressing a hand to his head. “I don’t stoop to negotiating with people like you.”

“Another weak retort. You seem a bit lost without your team of writers to craft your responses.” She turned, facing him fully, her smile was a wicked temptation. “What’s wrong, Senator? Are you feeling unsettled by a touch of unpredictability?”

The woman who had masqueraded as David radiated an allure both mesmerising and lethal, her beauty so flawless it seemed almost fabricated—a face meant to seduce, not to trust. Her eyes, a blazing gold, made Noah held his breath, as though he’d glimpsed something both divine and dangerous.

Golden… could it be?

House Van Nassau. Noah’s stomach tightened as the realisation dawned on him. If a Van Nassau was here, did it mean… His eyes sparked with sudden clarity. Of course. Pride’s plan. How could he have missed it? He was the chosen one, the master of Pride’s gifts.

It had to be part of the grand plan.

“Pride!” he thundered. “Show yourself!”

In response, a noxious purple haze poured from the shadows, thick and stifling, curling around him like a predatory serpent. As it swirled in ominous designs, a polished, sardonic laugh erupted from Noah’s throat.

“End this masquerade!” he commanded.