Page 83 of Lethal Attraction

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.

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.