Page 137 of Buried in Blood
Before the clock runs out.
38
Dante
I shove past a waiter carrying champagne.
My hand is already on my gun, concealed under my jacket. Not drawn. Not yet.
Not unless I have to.
The string quartet plays something whimsical in the background. I fucking hate it. It makes the whole thing feel like a dream. Like none of this is real.
But it is.
And we’re running out of time.
“Lucien!” I bark as I spot him near the main table, arm slung lazily around Astra’s waist. Evelyn stands just beside them, laughing at something one of the guests said. They all look… happy. Alive.
God.
“Dante?” Lucien turns, his brows pulling together at the sound of my voice. “What the hell—?”
“We have to go. Now.”
“What?”
“No questions. Get Astra. Get Evelyn. Get them out of here.” I’m already gripping Astra’s arm, steering her toward the nearest exit.
She doesn’t resist—yet.
“Dante—what’s going on?” Evelyn demands.
Lucien grabs her hand. “Just move.”
“I don’t understand—”
“There are bombs,” I hiss. “Four of them. Hidden. Damien planted them.”
Astra stops moving. “No.”
Lucien stiffens.
“I’ll explain later. Right now, we’re not safe.” I scan the crowd. “I’ve already sent word to the guards. They’re clearing the staff exits.”
“But—what about the others?” Evelyn asks, eyes wide.
“We’ll handle it,” I say. “We have to move now.”
Lucien leans close to Astra. “Go with Dante. I’ll make sure the perimeter’s covered.”
“No,” Astra grabs his wrist. “You’re coming too.”
He stares at her for half a second too long. Then he nods once.
We break into motion—four shadows slipping through the cracks of a celebration seconds from collapse.
Guests laugh behind us. A toast is called. Glasses raised.
