Page 66 of Duty Unbound

I was already pushing through the crowd toward the VIP area, but Ty had it handled, smoothly extracting the man—some finance guy in an expensive suit reeking of whiskey—withminimal fuss. The man protested loudly, but Ty’s imposing presence quickly convinced him to cooperate.

“Good work,” I said as Ty deposited the offender with club security near the main exit.

“Just another entitled asshole who can’t keep his hands to himself,” Ty muttered, resuming his position. “Dime a dozen.”

The next hour crawled by in a tense cycle of monitoring, intervening, and trying not to stare at Mel. Every time our eyes met across the crowded room, heat flared between us like a physical thing. The promise oflaterhung heavy in the air, making every minute feel like an eternity.

Nova seemed to be in her element, dancing with abandon, taking shots with her entourage, basking in the attention. Occasionally, she’d pull someone famous into her circle, creating perfect photo opportunities that would no doubt be all over social media by morning. This was her world—glamour, attention, adoration—and she navigated it with the ease of someone born to it.

Mel, on the other hand, remained on the periphery, always watching, always managing. Even here, in what should have been a celebratory environment, she couldn’t fully relax. I watched her field questions, coordinate with staff, handle small crises before they could reach Nova’s attention. Always working, always responsible.

“Movement at the north exit,” Jace suddenly announced, his voice sharp with concern. “Someone’s messing with the emergency door. Can’t get a clear visual—too many people blocking the camera angle.”

I turned toward the indicated area, already moving through the crowd, but before I could investigate, bedlam erupted.

The fire alarm shrieked to life, its piercing wail cutting through the music like a knife. Simultaneously, the sprinkler system activated, showering the entire club with cold water. Screams of surprise and confusion filled the air as people scrambledin every direction, the orderly party devolving into pandemonium in seconds.

“Fire! There’s a fire!” someone shouted from near the bar, their voice carrying over the alarm.

My training kicked in instantly. “Ty, Logan—get Nova out now. Emergency evac protocols!”

The crowd surged toward the exits like a living tide, panic spreading faster than any flame could. Bodies pressed against me from all sides as I fought to maintain my position and visual contact with my team.

“Got her!” Ty reported, his voice strained but controlled. “We’re heading for the east secondary stairwell. Path is relatively clear.”

This was why we’d studied the plans for the club. Knew routes that wouldn’t be as obvious to the swarming crowds.

“Jace, what’s happening? Do we have an actual fire?” I demanded, shoving through the panicked masses.

“Negative on visible flames,” he responded, the rapid clicking of keyboard keys audible in the background. “No heat signatures on any sensors. Someone pulled the manual alarm—north wall station, second floor.”

Deliberate, then. Not an accident or malfunction. Goddamn it.

I pushed through the panicked crowd with increased urgency, water from the sprinklers soaking through my clothes, making the floor treacherously slick. People slipped and fell around me, adding to the nightmare as others nearly trampled over them in their desperation to escape.

“Status report!” I called out, helping a young woman to her feet before she could be crushed by the stampede.

“Primary is secure,” Logan confirmed, his breathing slightly labored. “We’re in the east stairwell, descending now. Minimal resistance.”

“Moving to the evac point,” Ty added. “ETA two minutes.”

“I’m right behind you.”

My focus narrowed to getting Nova to safety—that was the job, the mission, the priority. I made it to the east stairs, taking them three at a time until I reached ground level, fighting my way through the stream of evacuees.

The bottom floor was less chaotic—loud with people moving outside, but not so much pushing. A lot more phones recording the drama as emergency vehicles began arriving with sirens wailing.

I spotted my team ahead, crossing the parking lot at the fastest clip Nova’s stilettos would allow. Ty and Logan flanked Nova on either side, creating a protective barrier, while Dexter and several others from her entourage trailed behind them. I sprinted to catch up, my longer stride eating up the distance quickly.

Our black limousine idled at the designated evacuation point, exactly where it was supposed to be. Logan and Ty had Nova surrounded, using their bodies to shield her as fans and paparazzi tried to get close, even in the midst of the emergency. Nova was soaked, her carefully applied makeup running in black rivers down her face, but that didn’t stop some people from trying to get photos.

Logan firmly guided her into the car, his hand on her back urging her forward. Nova’s group jumped into the vehicle after her, a tangle of wet clothes and excited chatter, while Ty and I maintained a watchful perimeter, scanning for any signs that this might be some sort of coordinated attack rather than a simple false alarm.

Once everyone was inside, we dove in ourselves, pulling the door closed with a solid thunk that muffled the madness outside.

“Driver, let’s move,” I ordered over the cacophony inside the limousine. “Back to the hotel.”

The interior of the limo was a mix of confusion, fear, and anxiety. Nova was breathing hard, her chest heaving as theadrenaline hit her system. Dexter was frantically trying to dry her with a towel from the emergency kit, his movements almost comically maternal. A couple of the dancers were crying, their mascara running worse than Nova’s, while one was laughing with the slightly hysterical edge of someone coming down from a panic high.

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