22. Reed
Chapter twenty-two
Reed
Achampagne chute shattering in the distance is the first sign that all hell has broken loose.
Next, a gunshot echoes through the event center, causing mass panic as shrill screams pierce the air.
Hundreds of guests surge in every direction, waiters abandon their trays, and the orchestra stops so abruptly that a violin scratches.
I’m jostled around by the crowd, fighting to stay in sight of Thalia, but it’s no use. The moment things clear, she’s already gone, and I’m left glancing around desperately as I try to locate Taryn and Emma.
Where the hell are they?
Another shot cracks through the air, and the mass becomes an all-out stampede as people fight to exit the building. I’m wading through bodies when the blonde man from earlier appears before me.
He’s grappling with someone, both of their hands around each other’s necks before the man with brown hair slides along the ruined floor and kicks the attacker’s legs out from under him.
Blondie laughs, the sound loud and booming, before he grabs a bottle of champagne and smashes the thickest part against a table to create a shiv and steps over the downed man. “This is for being a fucking traitor. Rest in hell.”
My eyes widen as Blondie uses the bottle to maim the man beneath him. Blood sprays, soaking across the floor as I shove back and fall onto my ass.
I can’t look away.
Not even when Blondie begins to rip his victim’s skin to shreds with the broken glass. I can only watch in horror as this man is mutilated beyond recognition.
A hand grabs my bicep before hoisting me up and yanking me out of the fresh nightmare before me. The brown-haired hitman is giving me a stern glare as he shakes me roughly.
“Get out of here! Now!” he orders.
I swallow before nodding and nearly tripping over myself.
The main floor has cleared a little, and I get a direct line of sight to the tipped-over food table.
Taryn is crouched down, shielding her wife as they huddle together with fresh fear painted on their features.
I take one step in their direction before the curvy blonde woman from earlier appears to my left.
She levels a gun and fires, making me jolt at the sudden crack that shreds my ears.
Next is the warm spray of something across the chest of my tux. The breath whooshes from my lungs as another man sways drunkenly in place, a massive crater in his forehead and a gun held limply in his right hand, before his knees buckle and he crumbles in a heap of limbs.
“Motherfucker,” I breathe raggedly in disbelief as my adrenaline punches through my system, causing my limbs to shake and my heart to slam.
The blonde woman gives me an incredulous look, placing a hand on her hip as she waves her gun in my direction. “Well, don’t just stand there! Get the fuck outta here!”
I blink rapidly as if doing so will end this nightmare, but no such luck. This is very real, and I’m in the center of it all right now.
“Brooks,” I mutter. “Where’s Brooks?”
The woman’s head rears slightly in surprise. “You two know each other?”
“Everything I know about him is against my will.”
She huffs a laugh as her face twists with disgust. “Same.”
She’s on our side. Whatever side that is…
I glance around at the utter chaos, my mind racing but hyper-focused on one thing. “We have to find him before he can get to Thalia.”
Protect her.
I promised.
The woman cocks her hip before throwing her thumb behind her. “Sugar, I think she can handle herself.”
I follow where she’s pointing, my chest constricting at the sight across the dance floor. Thalia and Brooks are facing off, but they’re in a stance that’s far too close for anything survivable. Both have the barrels of their guns pointed at each other’s faces as they glare at one another.
If anyone’s finger slips, the other dies due to a close-range wound. Zero chance of survival.
My feet are moving before I can stop myself.
“Hey! Stop!” the blonde woman shouts after me, but I don’t listen as I quicken my pace.
Thalia’s eyes shift upward to the top banister, and I spot Atlas along the edge as he levels a sniper rifle in their direction. Time slows to a halt, every sound ceasing to exist and every movement utterly still. My pulse screams in my ears as I break out in a dead sprint to get to them.
“Now, Atlas!” Thalia shouts.
Brooks moves fast, sidestepping her before he slides his arm around her neck and squeezes as he takes her back and holds the gun to her temple.
“NO!” I shout, forcing my legs to move faster as everything urges me onward.
Have to make it.
Have to get to her.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” Thalia screams at her brother. “SHOOT HIM!”
Atlas snarls as he tries to aim for Brooks’ face, but I can tell he’s struggling. Especially with his sister being held so close and at gunpoint. One slip and Atlas could end her life rather than the man at her back.
“FUCKING SHOOT!” Thalia bellows.
“MOVE YOUR BIG FUCKING HEAD!” Atlas rages.
She groans a deep, guttural ughhhhh before tossing her head back with so much force I can hear the crack in Brooks’s nose. She spins out of his grip, her arms up in defense as he battles past the pain in an attempt to grab her wrist.
Luckily for me, he hasn’t seen me running at him at full speed this whole time. I rear my elbow back and deliver a punch straight to his jaw. His head whips back sharply, and I feel bone crunch beneath my knuckles.
He falls back, landing on his ass as he lifts a hand to the blood dripping from his shattered nostrils.
He doesn’t even have time to think about his injuries before I’m covering him.
I drop to my knees, bracketing them on either side of his waist before I deliver another punishing hit that causes his head to bounce off the marble.
“I told you I would lay you out on this fucking floor,” I grit over him before rising and spitting on him. “Fuck you, Brooks.”
His cheeks are swelling as his eyes roll, but he isn’t unconscious yet. I take a step back, straightening my tie as I observe my work.
“Holy shit,” Thalia whispers from beside me before a delighted laugh bubbles from her. “He looks like roadkill!”
I wrap an arm around her before pulling her to my side. “I told him I owed him a knockout. I don’t break my promises.”
The man we saw earlier in the crowd with a shaved head, who I’m more than certain is Rowan, jogs up to us. “Everyone okay?”
“We’re fine,” Thalia shrugs.
The blonde man from earlier runs down the main staircase with urgency, flying across the dance floor. “Brooks has backup, and they’ve surrounded us. We need to go. Now.”
Rowan points at the blonde. “Theo, can you and Dom get the rest of the civilians out while we figure out an escape route?”
“On it!”
Thalia places her hand on my chest, shoving me in the direction of the table that Taryn and Emma are hiding behind. “Hide! Alana and Connor are going to get you guys out of here.”
I turn back to her before slamming my lips to hers in a heated, quick kiss. I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “Be careful.”
She looks dazed as she nods. “Okay…”
I turn on my heel, only to stop when I notice that the spot Brooks was is now empty. How the hell…
“Go, Reed!” Thalia yells as another round of shots fires from the back of the event center.
I duck low, quickly making my way over to the table before sliding beside Taryn. My heart feels like it’s going to beat out of my chest, but I only smile at them.
“How are you holding up?” I project my voice over the fresh rounds of gunfire.
Taryn’s lips thin as her head tilts. “Amazing.”
I wince.
Emma looks like she’s dissociating as she stares unblinkingly at the marble beneath her. She’s clearly shaken up and Taryn is trying to provide some stability in the situation.
That is until another massive man covered in tattoos slides in front of us. We all tense at first, not sure what side he’s on until he smiles crookedly and lifts a hand in a wave.
“I’m Connor.”
Connor. Alana’s husband, if I remember correctly.
Next to follow him is a petite woman with dark brown curls. She smiles warmly at us with bright eyes. “Hey! I’m Alana! It’s so nice to finally meet you.”
Emma seems to snap out of her trance as she snatches the collar of Connor’s t-shirt and drags him closer. His eyes widen with surprise.
“Get us the fuck out of here!” She commands.
Alana’s lips pull over her teeth. “We’re on it now. I mapped an escape route for us. Just follow me and keep your heads down.”
We crouch low as Connor takes up the rear while Alana leads the way. Gunfire still rattles through the venue, each shot echoing off marble and glass like thunder trapped indoors.
Alana moves with uncanny confidence, weaving us through the sprawling event center as if she’d memorized every inch of it. She guides us behind overturned tables, around abandoned bars, and through pockets of destruction while keeping us hidden from anyone scanning the room.
The further we move, the more surreal everything becomes.
A waiter lies unconscious beside a collapsed dessert display, covered in frosting and blood. Crystal chandeliers sway overhead from the chaos below, scattering fractured light across the smoke-filled air. Expensive floral arrangements have been trampled into colorful smears across the marble floor.
And everywhere I look, people are fighting.
A tattooed man launches himself over a banquet table and tackles an armed attacker.
A woman in a torn evening gown slams someone’s face into a pillar hard enough to crack the stone.
Near the ballroom entrance, the blond psychopath from earlier—Theo—laughs like he’s having the time of his life while wielding what remains of a shattered champagne bottle.
I don’t know who these people are, but I’m beginning to understand one thing.
None of them are normal.
“Almost there,” Alana calls over her shoulder.