22. Reed #2
Emma clings tightly to Taryn’s hand while Taryn keeps her body positioned protectively between her wife and the surrounding madness. Connor remains behind us, constantly checking corners and blind spots, his expression calm despite the battlefield unfolding around us.
Meanwhile, my attention keeps drifting back toward the ballroom.
Toward Thalia.
Every instinct screams at me to go back—to make sure she’s okay. I want to stay with her…
But each time I glance over my shoulder, I remember the look she gave me before sending me away—a look that promised she’d be furious if I ignored her orders.
So I keep moving, but I don’t stop trying to find her. My eyes ping-pong to every corner, crevice, and hallway in search of her. I begin to fall behind when someone grabs my shoulder.
“She’s over there,” Connor points toward the far side of the banquet hall, and my eyes immediately follow the line of his finger.
For a moment, everything else disappears.
The screaming guests, the distant gunfire, the crashing sounds of destruction echoing through the venue—all of it fades into meaningless background noise the instant I spot Thalia.
Relief hits me so hard that my knees nearly buckle.
She’s okay.
But that relief doesn’t last long.
Two men are advancing on her through the wreckage of the ballroom, forcing her backward toward a cluster of shattered tables and fallen decorations.
One keeps a pistol trained in her direction while the other attempts to flank her, clearly hoping to divide her attention long enough to gain an advantage.
My pulse immediately begins hammering against my ribs.
“Thalia!” I shout without thought, my words being swallowed by the distance that stretches between us.
She doesn’t react.
Whether she doesn’t hear me or simply can’t afford the distraction, I don’t know. Her focus remains entirely fixed on the two men as she slowly shifts her stance, her gaze flicking between them while she measures distances, angles, and opportunities that I’m certain I would never even notice.
It’s strange watching her like this.
Outside of the chaos, Thalia is quick-witted, sarcastic, and somehow always one step ahead of everyone around her. Here, however, there’s something else beneath all of that.
The first attacker makes his move.
He surges forward with enough confidence to suggest he’s done this before, but the moment he commits, Thalia pivots.
The movement is so effortless it almost looks unfair.
His momentum carries him straight past her, and before he can recover, he collides with an overturned banquet table.
Crystal glasses explode across the marble floor as the entire thing tips sideways beneath his weight.
The second man reacts immediately as the crack of gunfire echoes through the ballroom.
My heart stops.
A marble pillar erupts beside Thalia as stone fragments spray through the air. She vanishes behind the column a split second before the shot reaches her, and for several agonizing seconds all I can see is drifting dust illuminated by the ballroom lights.
The gunman begins advancing with a sly confidence reserved for foxes. It’s almost like he believes the fight is already over.
I almost feel sorry for him because the look on Thalia’s face right before she disappeared wasn’t fear. It was annoyance.
The realization settles over me just as the man reaches the edge of the pillar and discovers that she’s no longer there. His hesitation is brief, but it’s enough.
His head snaps from side to side as he searches for her. Across the room, the other attacker has finally managed to regain his footing, only to find himself equally confused. Neither of them knows where she went.
I do.
She’s hunting them.
A blur of movement suddenly emerges from behind a collapsed buffet station.
Before either man can react, Thalia crashes into the gunman with enough force to send both of them slamming into a decorative archway draped in flowers.
The structure collapses beneath the impact, scattering petals and splintered wood across the floor.
The pistol flies free. It skids across the marble and disappears beneath a nearby table. Neither of them notices. At least Thalia doesn’t seem to, but she’s already moving again.
What follows is so fast that my eyes struggle to keep pace. The fight flows through the ruins of the ballroom—furniture overturns, glass shatters, and decorative centerpieces explode across the floor. Every attempt the men make to regain control seems to dissolve the moment Thalia reaches them.
She’s relentless.
One of the men manages to create a few feet of distance between them and immediately attempts to capitalize on it, but the opening vanishes almost as soon as it appears.
Thalia closes the gap before he can recover, driving him backward through the debris until his spine collides with a marble column.
The impact reverberates through the ballroom, and the man crumples. The second attacker lasts only moments longer. By the time the dust settles, both men are on the floor, and Thalia is the only one left standing.
For a few seconds, I simply stare.
The warm light of the chandeliers glow across her unmarked skin. She breathes deeply, tipping her head back as her hands tighten at her sides. My eyes rake over the delicate column of her throat, so enraptured by someone this dangerous yet utterly beautiful.
Around us, the chaos continues unabated. Gunfire still echoes through distant corridors. People are still shouting. Somewhere nearby, something heavy crashes to the ground.
Yet none of it seems important. Not compared to her.
She stands in the center of the destruction with her chest rising and falling as she catches her breath. Loose strands of hair frame her face, and dust clings to the dark fabric of her dress. Anyone else would look exhausted after something like that.
Thalia somehow looks magnificent.
“Alright,” Connor muses, “time to go.”
I blink myself back to the present. “Oh, yeah…”
He guides me towards the back of the venue, and we come out through the exit of the industrial kitchen.
There, a dark van is parked in front of the doors, running idly with the back doors open.
Taryn and Emma are already buckled in on the bench seats, their heads tucked as they talk quietly among themselves.
Taryn brushes a strand of her wife’s hair behind her ear before kissing her cheek tenderly.
Parked next to the van are some motorcycles and a massive truck I don’t recognize. But one of the bikes looks oddly familiar—like Thalia’s.
Alana walks down the center aisle of the van, motioning us over. “Hurry. We need to get on the road before someone finds us.”
Connor jumps in without question as I stop and glance back towards the doors. “But Thalia—”
“Will kill me if I don’t get you out of here safely,” Alana urges with a friendly smile. “Trust me. She’s going to be fine.”
I run a hand through my hair as the adrenaline begins to wear off and my limbs start to shake. “And what about last time? That’s how she ended up on my operating table.”
Connor leans out of the van with a raised eyebrow. “Either you get in or I’m throwing you in. Take your pick.”
This is frustrating.
I reluctantly give in before hopping in the back and sliding across from Taryn and Emma. Connor takes the driver’s seat as Alana eases into the passenger side with a laptop propped up on her knees. The van lurches forward as I rest my head back onto the glass and close my eyes.
I feel Taryn’s heel brush my shoe, and I peek at her. Emma’s head is resting on her shoulder as they bump along with the tires hitting potholes. Everything is deathly quiet besides the sounds of the road outside and Alana typing on her keyboard.
Until I hear the distant hum of a motorcycle. My head whips around to the glass, and I can make out at least four sets of lights traveling quickly behind us.
“Don’t worry,” Alana calls distractedly from the front. “It’s just the team.”
“Oh, thank God,” Taryn breathes with relief.
A motorcycle gains on us, swerving to my side before the rider places their hand on my window.
Thalia.
I touch the glass, offering a small, unsure smile as we continue to barrel towards some unknown location.
She’s safe.