Page 98 of Third Degree

Well, they did continue down past the dancefloor, but God only knew what was down there, and honestly, I did not want to know.

We were tipsy, in a fit of laughter, and now in the middle of the city’s hottest new nightclub on my husband’s birthday. Life truly couldn’t get better, even though I knew Elio was going to be pissed when he came back and found me and Chelsea missing.

“Let’s go to the middle so no one can spot us from up top.”

I eagerly nodded, grabbing her arm and pushing our way through the mass of people on the floor. When we finally felt like we were hidden enough, we grabbed each other’s hands and started dancing to the music.

“I love life now,” I exclaimed to no one in particular.

“Huh?” Chelsea asked over the pulsating music.

I shook my head and just kept dancing to the rhythm, matching Chelsea by moving my hips to the beat of the song.

We were getting sweaty in the sea of people, and I tried to look back up at the top floor but couldn’t see anyone up there. The number of hands rising and bodies jumping up and down to the music had me blocked. I honestly couldn’t see much other than what was in front of me.

We must have been dancing for a while because I had a sheen on my forehead. Chels was happily still swaying her hips to the beat, but I was getting thirsty and needed to get out of the horde of dancers.

“I’ve gotta get out.” Chels was now dancing with someone, so she shooed me off, telling me she would find me later.

“Let me liveeeee…” she trailed off as she ground her hips into the stranger.

It was getting hot, and the tequila was starting to wear off with the dancing, so the claustrophobia was settling in. Not to mention that I hated that Elio was probably worried at this point, wondering where I was and how I had snuck out with Chelsea. I knew he was going to fire some of his guards for not watching me like a hawk.

I pushed through the crowd until I could finally catch my breath when I got to the very edge of the dancefloor. I ran my hands through my sweaty hair, pulling it back when I could swear I heard a familiar voice calling through the loud music.

I snapped my head to catch sight of the figure that had seized my attention, and for a fleeting moment, I thought it was my cousin Rina standing there. My eyes narrowed, my heart pounding in my chest as I wiped away the beads of sweat clinging to my mascara-laden lashes. I looked up again, and there was no denying it. It was her, unmistakably so, with that wild shock of crimson hair that always made her stand out.

With hesitant steps, I moved closer, anticipation mingling with unease at the peculiar coincidence of her presence in the same place at the same time as me.

“Rina!” I called out, my voice tinged with excitement despite our infrequent encounters.

Seeing a familiar face from home provided a momentary comfort amidst the chaos. But as her gaze met mine, I saw sheer panic reflected in her eyes, and an ominous instinct gripped me tightly.

My gaze darted around, searching for Chelsea, only to find her still in the midst of the pulsating crowd, oblivious to the unfolding strangeness. The pounding music throbbed through the air, underscoring the surreal circumstances of Rina’s presence.

Was it a mere coincidence, or had my father sent her to spy on me? I couldn’t dismiss the latter possibility; after all, I knew what he was capable of.

My gaze lifted to the VIP section, witnessing a frenzy of people in disarray, their purpose obscured by the soundproofing separating us. Were they descending to the dancefloor?

Suddenly, Rina’s voice pierced through the chaos, screaming my name. I whipped my head around to locate her, and that’s when I spotted Carlo, her husband, lurking in the shadows, concealed from sight.

But I saw him, and what he held in his hands sent shockwaves through my trembling body—two massive machine guns.

“Holy shit,” I gasped, the gravity of the situation crashing down upon me.

Rina broke into a sprint toward me, but someone yanked her back, their forceful intervention explaining the pandemonium unfolding above. Carlo was preparing to unleash a hailstorm of bullets into the crowd on the dancefloor.

“No!” I screamed, the terror and urgency in my voice matching the racing beat of my heart.

Chelsea was still out there, dancing, unaware of the imminent danger. I had left her behind, forsaking all the safety lessons that emphasized the strength of numbers. Now, my friends were at risk of being caught in the crossfire.

Determination ignited within me as I dashed toward the dancefloor, the sound of gunshots piercing through the relentless bass of the music.

Boom.

The sea of people started to scatter once they realized it wasn’t, in fact, the beat of the music about to drop.

Boom.

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