Page 138 of Buried in Blood

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None of them know.

They walk on glass floors over a minefield.

“Straight through the garden,” I say, pushing open the side door. “The arbor is rigged. Don’t stop there. Don’t look back.”

Astra’s heels skid on the cobblestone path. Lucien steadies her.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs. She nods, pale and silent, clutching the hem of her dress like it’s the only thing tethering her to this moment.

We’re twenty feet from the car.

Fifteen.

The wind shifts.

There’s the faintest click.

A breath caught in the universe’s throat.

And I know.

We didn’t make it in time.

39

Lucien

I don’t even hear the blast.

I feel it.

The pressure wave hits before the sound—like the air is being ripped inside out. Heat punches my back, flinging me forward. Astra’s scream barely escapes her throat before we hit the ground. Evelyn lands hard, face-first into the dirt. Dante throws himself over both of them, shielding as best he can.

My ears ring.

It’s all I can hear.

The world blinks red.

Smoke curls up from the arbor—what’s left of it. The sky is black where it used to be blue. Shards of white flowers rain down like confetti soaked in blood.

People are screaming.

Not in confusion.

In agony.

I push up from the ground, my arm protesting, skin ripped open from shrapnel I never saw coming. Nothing vital. My suit’s torn. My vision’s blurred.

“Astra—” My voice is a ghost behind the ringing. “Astra!”

“I’m here,” she croaks, dazed but alive.

I crawl to her. Grab her. Pulling her into me like that will somehow undo what just happened.

Evelyn’s crying. Not because she’s hurt—because she’s seeing it. The bodies. The flames. The chaos where celebration once stood.

“Dante!” I shout.

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