Page 67 of Duty Unbound

The limo began to pull away from the curb, but my own adrenaline was still surging through my system. I kept my eyes fixed on the windows, watching for any signs of pursuit or additional threats. Ty and Logan were doing the same, our training keeping us vigilant even as we left the immediate danger zone.

“Oh my God, I’ve got to make a post about this right now,” Nova said, her voice an octave higher than normal as she fumbled for her phone with shaking hands. “People are going to want to make sure I’m all right.”

“Wait until you’re secure back at the hotel,” Logan said firmly without taking his eyes from the window, his tone brooking no argument.

I waited for Mel to jump in and reaffirm what Logan had said, to provide that voice of reason that always backed up our security decisions. But the expected support didn’t come. A cold feeling began to pool in my gut as I finally pulled my gaze from the window and actually looked at who was in the vehicle with us.

“Wait.” My voice was sharp enough to make everyone look up from whatever they were doing. “Where’s Mel?”

The interior of the limo went suddenly, eerily silent. I scanned the faces—Nova with her ruined makeup, Dexter still clutching the towel, dancers whose names I’d never bothered to learn—waiting for someone to point out the obvious, that of course Mel was here, I’d just missed her in the adrenaline rush of the evacuation.

But she wasn’t there. The realization hit me like a physical blow.

“Where is Mel?” I barked, my professional composure cracking for the first time.

“We were working the primary, boss,” Ty responded quietly, his expression troubled. “Standard protocol.”

Which was exactly what they were supposed to do. Nova was the client—her safety was the primary objective. Every bit of our training emphasized protecting the principal above all else.

“I’ll text her. She’s fine,” Nova said dismissively, already typing on her phone without even looking up. “She probably went out a different exit. Mel is always fine. She knows security gets me out first in any sort of fubar situation.”

Just because that was standard operating procedure didn’t mean I had to like it. The thought of Mel alone in that chaotic mess, potentially scared or in danger, made my chest tight with an emotion I couldn’t afford to examine too closely.

“She’s your sister,” I said, unable to keep the accusation out of my voice.

Nova shrugged, the gesture so casual it made my blood boil. “It’s Mel. She can handle herself. She’ll grab a cab or call an Uber. She’ll meet us back at the hotel the way she’s done in the past.”

The revelation stunned me into momentary silence. This wasn’t the first time Mel had been left behind? This was normal for them? The casual disregard for her own sister’s safety was incomprehensible to me.

Logan and Ty exchanged glances, clearly uncomfortable with the situation. They’d been focused on the primary—on Nova—just as I had. It was what we were paid to do, what we were trained to do. But the knowledge that we’d left Mel behind in that fucked-up disaster sat like lead in my stomach.

We’d done our job perfectly. Protected the client. Executed the evacuation flawlessly.

And in doing so, we’d abandoned the one person who had started to matter more to me than any job ever could.

Chapter 21

Mel

The cold water from the sprinklers plastered my hair to my face as I stumbled outside with the last wave of evacuating partygoers. My black dress clung to my body, waterlogged and heavy, rivulets running down my legs and pooling in my shoes. My teeth chattered as the night air hit my wet skin, but I barely noticed. All I could see was the limousine peeling away from the curb, Nova safely inside with Ethan and his team.

I’d been left behind. Again.

I tried to swallow past the tightness in my throat, but it felt like swallowing glass. This shouldn’t hurt. It was standard protocol—Nova was the client, the priority. Ethan and his team had done exactly what they were supposed to do. What they were paid to do.

But knowing that didn’t stop the hollow ache that spread through my chest as I watched the taillights disappear around the corner. It felt like someone had reached into my rib cage and squeezed, leaving me breathless and raw.

Around me, people pressed together in a chaotic mass outside the club. Some were crying, mascara running in dark streaks down their faces. Others were laughing with the giddy relief of perceived danger passed, their voices high and slightly hysterical. A few were already sharing their dramatic escape stories on their phones, gesturing wildly as they recounted the pandemonium inside.

“And then the sprinklers went off, and everyone just lost it!” a girl near me shrieked into her phone. “I thought I was going to die!”

Not a single person looked at me twice. No one asked for an autograph or tried to take my picture. In the midst of all this drama, I was invisible. Just another wet, disheveled club-goer trying to make sense of what had happened.

Unlike Nova, when people had been trying to get a picture with her despite what was going on. Yet another reason why the Citadel team had to get her out of here immediately.

And leave me behind.

The wail of approaching sirens cut through the night air as fire trucks rounded the corner, their red lights painting the wet pavement in alternating flashes. Everyone stepped back from the curb to make room for the emergency vehicles, and I moved farther over to the side, nearly slipping on the slick sidewalk. My heel caught in a crack, and I stumbled, catching myself against a lamppost.

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