Page 93 of Choosing Stella

“What makes you think he’s connected?”

“He matches the description attached to the prior threat report.”

“We’re leaving.”

The supervisor nodded.

“I can get you to—”

“We have our own route.”

I took Stella’s hand.

“Stay with me.”

“I’m right here.”

We started for the secondary exit we’d identified before the event.

We were less than twenty feet away when a woman screamed.

The crowd broke apart ahead of us.

A man in a black half-mask shoved through two guests and reached inside his jacket.

I saw the gun as it cleared the fabric.

I pushed Stella behind a stone column.

“Get down.”

She dropped as the man turned our way.

I hit his gun arm before he could level the weapon and drove him sideways into a high cocktail table. The gun fired into the ceiling.

People screamed and scattered. Glass shattered behind me.

I clamped both hands around his wrist and slammed it into the table.

He fought instead of trying to escape.

I drove my elbow into his jaw.

His grip opened. The gun hit the floor, and I kicked it beyond his reach.

He came at me again.

I hit him in the throat and under the ribs. He folded as two Exchange officers rushed in.

“Geo!”

I turned toward Stella’s voice.

She was no longer behind the column.

Security personnel and panicked guests filled the space between us. I caught one glimpse of her black dress and white streak several yards away.

Volkov was beside her.