Page 33 of Hidden

There was hesitation. Of course there was. No one wanted to move first. No one wanted to be seen trying.

“No one notices the quiet ones,” I added, softer this time. “And the quiet ones don’t get picked. And those who don’t get picked… don’t get to stay.” I emphasised the last word, hoping they understood the meaning behind it.

They could think me cruel. They could think me heartless. But, in my own way, in the only way I could, I was giving them armour. Something to protect themselves with.

Sticking within my boundaries, of course.

The cameras in this room ensured I kept within the rules.

I don’t know what caused the change. Whether it be my words, or something in my gaze or… who knew. But it worked. They sifted, pairing off, following my commands with tense shoulder and unsure movements.

They were like prey, learning how to walk into a predator’s den without flinching.

And God help them if they failed.

God help you, too, Gabby. You know the price of failure…

I shook my head again, not wanting to revisit those moments.

I stepped forward, circling the women slowly.

“Posture,” I corrected, tapping lightly against one girl’s shoulder until she straightened. “You don’t shrink. You don’t look scared. Even if you are.”

Even if you are.

My fingers lingered there a second too long before I pulled them back, curling them into my palm.

“Again.”

They tried. Failed. Tried again.

I watched one of them attempt a smile—too wide, too forced, eyes glassy with panic.

“No,” I said, sharper than I meant to. “Not like that.”

She froze.

I exhaled slowly, forcing my tone to soften.

“Relax your mouth. Let it come naturally. They can tell when you’re faking it.”

He could always tell.

The memory hit before I could stop it, breaking through all the barriers I had erected to keep them at bay.

A hand gripping my jaw. Hard enough to bruise. Forcing my face into something more pleasing. Something more acceptable.

“If you’re going to lie to them, at least make it believable.”

My breathing picked up. My palms grew sweaty. When the room started to spin, I knew I was on the brink of losing control. Of blowing this. I swallowed it down, straightening my spine, forcing composure into my body.

“Watch me,” I said.

I forced the expression onto my face—soft and inviting, seemingly completely effortless. The version of me that didn’t exist anywhere outside of rooms like this.

Because this is the room I had been trained in. Just like each of them. But I hadn’t had the luxury of a mentor. I had learned on the job and paid a heavy price for my failures.

“Eye contact,” I continued, meeting each of their gazes in turn. “But don’t challenge them. There’s a difference. You hold it just long enough to make them feel seen… then you look away first.”