Chapter 24: The Cross Fire

The first scream hadn’t even died in the air before the second one ripped through the club — louder, sharper, and laced with pure terror. Then came the gunfire. Sharp cracks that sliced straight through the bass, shattering the night into jagged pieces.

The music still pounded, but now it was warped—swallowed by the sound of screaming, shattering glass, and the sharp cracks of gunfire splitting the air.

People were running in every direction, shoving, pushing, trampling each other to get away from whatever had just erupted near the entrance. Red light swept over terrified faces as bodies blurred past me.

I didn’t know where to look first.

A chair went flying across the room, smashing into the side of the VIP railing. Someone knocked over a table, sending bottles rolling and spilling across the floor. The air smelled of spilt liquor, smoke, and something metallic I didn’t want to name.

“Get down!” Rosetta yelled, grabbing my arm and yanking me behind the velvet couch.

Camilla dove next to me, her hair wild, eyes bright in that way that only came when she was seconds from doing something reckless.

“This,” she said, panting, “is definitely not how I planned to spend my night.”

I stared at her like she’d lost her mind. “Camilla—people are shooting—”

“Yeah, no shit.” She grinned, ducking even lower as another round of bullets tore through the air. “I was aiming for tequila shots, not actual shots.”

Rosetta choked on a laugh, shaking her head like this was the wrong time—but we all laughed anyway, quick, sharp bursts of hysteria. The kind you couldn’t control. Maybe it was the adrenaline. Or maybe we were all just insane.

I peeked over the couch. Bad idea. Two groups of men were spread across the club—one near the entrance, the other closer to the dance floor—firing at each other with no care for the dozens of people caught in between. Bottles exploded behind the bar. Lights swung wildly overhead. The bouncer we’d passed earlier was lying facedown on the ground, not moving.

Julia yanked me back down. “You’re going to get your head blown off!”

“I’m just—trying to see where—”

“Where what? The bullets are coming from? They’re coming from everywhere!”

We pressed ourselves tighter against the couch, but the music didn’t stop. It was still blaring like the DJ had decided this was the perfect soundtrack for mass panic.

I reached for Camilla’s hand just to feel her there, solid and real, but she yanked it away—only to shove her clutch into my chest.

“Hold this,” she said.

“What—why—?”

“If I die tonight, I’m not letting my new lipstick get stolen in the afterlife. Priorities.”

I stared at her, caught somewhere between wanting to smack her and laugh again. “Camilla—”

“Don’t ‘Camilla’ me. Just promise me you’ll bury it with me if it comes to that.”

“You’re insane.”

“Damn right.”

Another round of gunfire made us all flinch, ducking lower until our knees were pressed into sticky alcohol pooling on the floor. My heart was hammering so hard I could barely hear my own thoughts.

And then—

It happened so fast I didn’t process it.

A shadow moved. Then a shape. A man. Big. Dressed in black from head to toe. He came out of nowhere, his boots silent despite the chaos. Before I could even shout, he reached over the couch, grabbed Camilla by the arm, and yanked her up with terrifying ease.

She screamed, kicking wildly.

“HEY! LET HER GO!” I was already on my feet, Julia and Rosetta right beside me, lunging toward him.

The man didn’t even flinch. He just started dragging her backward through the chaos like she weighed nothing. People moved out of his way, too busy saving themselves to care.

“LET HER GO, YOU SON OF A—” My voice broke. My hands reached, but we were too far. My legs slipped on the slick floor as I tried to chase him, Rosetta’s grip barely holding me back.

Another man appeared from the far end of the room. He was aiming—aiming at the one holding Camilla.

I froze.

Time stopped.

For a split second, I thought maybe he was going to save her. Maybe this was just some twisted fight between enemies and she was caught in the middle. My mouth opened to yell—Don’t shoot!—but I didn’t get the words out in time.

Three gunshots.

Sharp. Precise.

They hit her before my brain could catch up.

One.

Two.

Three.

Camilla’s body jerked with each impact, her scream cutting off like someone had ripped it from the air.

The man holding her didn’t even look at her. He just released his grip, letting her crumple to the ground like she was nothing more than a dropped jacket. Then he turned and ran, disappearing into the stampede of bodies and gun smoke.

My vision tunneled. My ears were ringing, but I couldn’t hear the music anymore. Couldn’t hear the screaming.

All I saw was her.

Camilla.

Lying there in her black dress, blood blooming fast across her chest. Her hands twitched weakly toward the wounds, like she could hold the life in with just her fingers. Her eyes were wide, confused.

And the world… the world went silent.