The Gala

The Gala

Cole swerved onto the highway, lights burning in the mirrors. Sirens wailed behind us, closing fast.

“Hold on,” he said, voice sharp.

The car jolted as he cut across lanes. Horns blared. Tires screamed. My hands clamped tighter around the napkin, the ink smearing more with every heartbeat.

“They will not stop,” I gasped.

“They do not need to,” he said. “They just need to pin us until Cain moves in.”

The first cruiser pulled alongside, lights flashing red and blue. An officer shouted from the window, gun in hand.

Cole jerked the wheel. Metal slammed against metal. Sparks flew as our doors scraped. Cole rammed harder, forcing the cruiser wide. It fishtailed, clipped the divider, spun out.

Another unit replaced it instantly.

Cole cursed. “They multiplied.”

“They know about the numbers.”

“Then you better pray they cannot read smudged ink.”

Bullets tore into the back window. Glass shattered, spraying across the seats. I ducked, arms over my head.

Cole fired one-handed out the driver’s side, eyes still locked on the road. A cruiser swerved, its tire blowing, sparks trailing as it spun into the median.

We roared forward, but more sirens screamed ahead. A blockade waited, lights glowing like a trap.

Cole gritted his teeth. “Get down.”

He hit the gas. Our car surged forward. Officers raised weapons.

Cole yanked the handbrake. The car spun, tires screeching. Bullets riddled the air, sparks bursting against metal. Cole completed the spin and shot us down the opposite ramp, wrong side of traffic.

Cars blared, swerving. Headlights blinded. Cole weaved with impossible precision, each turn inches from death.

“They will box us in,” I shouted.

“They can try.”

He cut across the median, the car bouncing hard. My teeth slammed together. We flew back into the right lanes, barreling toward the city center.

The radio in the wrecked cruiser we left behind crackled loud enough for us to hear. Cain’s voice bled through, calm and controlled.

“Do not kill her. Bring me the numbers intact. If Cole resists, break him.”

Cole’s jaw clenched. “He wants me alive too.”

“Why?”

“Because killing me is easy. Breaking me in front of you is better.”

The sirens grew again, closing from both sides. Cole slammed his fist against the wheel, scanning. A parking garage loomed ahead. He swerved hard, tires screeching as he shot up the ramp. The echoes swallowed us.

Cruisers followed. Lights strobed. Sirens bounced off concrete walls.

Cole tore higher, weaving through levels until we hit the top. No exits. Only the night sky above and the city lights below.

“They boxed us,” I breathed.

“Not yet.”

He spun the car toward the edge. The wall loomed ahead, low concrete and nothing beyond.

“No,” I gasped.

“Yes.”

The car roared forward. Bullets ricocheted off the walls behind us. Sirens screamed closer.

We hit the edge.

The car launched. My scream ripped out, drowned by the roar of the engine. For a heartbeat we hung in the air, the city lights spinning below.

Then the car slammed onto the roof of the next building. Metal shrieked. Tires screamed. Sparks flew. The impact threw me against the seatbelt.

Cole fought the wheel, steady hands pulling us straight. The car skidded, fishtailed, then caught grip.

We shot forward across the rooftop, smashing through a flimsy gate onto a ramp that spiraled down into an alley.

The cruisers screeched to a stop on the other side of the gap. One tried to follow but stalled, its bumper dangling over the drop.

Cole grinned, breath ragged. “Now they eat dust.”

We tore into the alley. Sirens faded behind us. Streets opened ahead, the city swallowing us whole.

Only when silence returned did I realize I was crying. The napkin in my hand was damp with sweat and tears, but the numbers were still there, smudged but legible.

Cole finally slowed, weaving into side streets until we reached quieter blocks. He killed the lights, guiding us like shadows until the noise of the chase was gone.

I pressed my fist to my chest. “We made it.”

His eyes stayed on the road. “We bought time. That is all.”

My phone buzzed. A message from Cynthia.

Move now. Kyle is at the gala. Cain will shield him with uniforms. If you want proof he owns the city, watch who protects him.

Cole read it over my shoulder. His lip curled. “She is sending you straight into his jaws.”

“She is giving us a chance to see who is tied to him.”

“Or giving Cain a chance to watch us die in public.”

Another buzz. Cynthia again. If you want to kill a king, you cut off his crown in public.

Cole let out a dark laugh. “She thinks this is chess. It is not. It is a firing squad.”

“We have to see him.”

His eyes snapped to mine. “You want to watch him walk free while Tyler bleeds out somewhere? You want to see him toast champagne while Cain smiles at his side?”

“Yes,” I said, my throat raw. “Because if I do not face him, then all I have is numbers and guesses. If I see who lines up to protect him, I know where the rot is.”

Cole slammed his fist against the wheel, then shoved the car into gear. “Then we go. But if they see you, they will not let you leave.”

We drove in silence, the city lights growing brighter. The hum of wealth replaced the scream of sirens. Streets lined with cars. Laughter spilling from open doors.

The gala.

Cole parked two blocks away. We walked the rest, sticking to shadows. My heart pounded with every step.

The hotel entrance glowed like gold. Cameras flashed. Guests in gowns and suits smiled, clinking glasses. And at the center of it, Kyle.

He stood at the top of the stairs, tuxedo perfect, smile warm, shaking hands like a man adored. The crowd leaned toward him, drawn as if he was light itself.

My throat closed. My heart broke and burned all at once. This was the man who whispered in my ear, the man who now hunted me like prey.

Cole’s jaw tightened. His hand hovered near his weapon.

“Do not,” I hissed.

“He is right there,” Cole growled. “One shot, and this ends.”

“No,” I whispered. “It would not end. Cain would make you the villain. He would make me a liar. Kyle would be remembered as a martyr, not a monster.”

Cole’s chest heaved, rage vibrating through him. “Then what?”

I pointed at the uniformed police forming a line around Kyle. “Look at them. Escorts. Protection. He is not just a criminal. He is their king. That is the proof.”

Cole’s eyes followed mine. The sight twisted him. He shook his head, voice low. “This city does not want saving. It wants to kneel.”

But his hand stayed off his weapon.

The gala roared with applause as Kyle raised a glass, his smile wide. The cameras captured every second.

Then my phone buzzed again. A new message.

Cynthia: Trace the accounts tonight. Cain will erase them by morning.

Cole’s whisper cut sharp. “She is pushing you too fast. You publish half a trail, you die. You wait too long, Cain scrubs it. Either way, he wins.”

I clenched my fist around the napkin. “Then we make our own timing.”

Cole leaned close, his voice low, dangerous. “If you want to kill a king, you have to cut off his crown in public. But you better be sure the crowd is ready to see blood.”

My phone buzzed again. This time it was not Cynthia.

Unknown number: You look beautiful tonight.

I froze. My eyes snapped to the stage.

Kyle was staring stra
ight at me.

Cole’s hand shot to his weapon.

Every police escort turned, eyes sweeping the crowd.

The message buzzed again.

Unknown number: Smile for me, Tess.