Page 23 of Gathered Sparkle

I have to get to the more public areas of the hotel, where they’ll have no choice but to stop firing at me.

I come out in another hallway that feels endless, every door blending into the next, until I reach for one that saysBriette Steakhouse, pushing it open and stumbling up a short flight of steps. I burst into what appears to be a fancy restaurant. A few servers are scattered about, setting up tables, and their heads snap up as I charge in. But I don’t stop. Ican’t.

Looking back, relief washes over me when I see the two security guards still following me, holstering their guns. They can’t shoot now, not with people around. Maybe I’ll end up in jail, but at least I won’t die.

I promised Sylus I’d survive.

Bursting out of the restaurant, I land in the lobby, my breath coming in short, desperate gasps as the commotion hits me all at once. There are raised voices from the gathered people.

Veronica’s still standing near the entrance with even more security guards stationed around her. No wonder there weren’t more chasing me. They were all here.

Ezra stands in front of her, his back straight, four police officers flanking him. My heart stutters at the sight, and real hope flares for the first time since I started running.

I sprint toward them, my hands coming up in surrender as I move. Ezra’s head snaps in my direction, his eyes widening when he spots me, still being chased by the two guards. I don’t stop running until my legs give out, sending me sliding across the marble floor on my knees. I come to a stop right in front of Ezra, panting, hands behind my head, my body trembling with exhaustion.

“What the fuck?” Ezra hisses under his breath, disbelief clear in his voice.

“Is that yourmissing person?” Veronica’s eyes flicker over to me, her lip curling with disdain.

Ezra doesn’t say anything. Instead, he grabs my arm, pulling me to my feet. I hiss as pain flares, and his grip loosens immediately, his eyes searching mine for an explanation. I meet his gaze and give the smallest nod—a silent answer to the question I see there.Yes. Levi is out.

Or at least, Ihopehe is.

Ezra’s tense posture softens, a breath escaping him.

“Missing person or not, you should arrest her for trespassing,” Veronica’s voice cuts through the silent conversation between us. “Or am I to believe this whole spectacle was a farce? A little police charade to smear Harrington Heights? Wouldn’t be the first time, would it? The Las Vegas police seem obsessed with making life difficult for hardworking business owners.”

Ezra’s expression hardens as he takes out a pair of handcuffs. He turns, motioning for the other officers to move. “Take testimonies from the security guards.”

“Of course, officers.” Veronica’s sly smile twists on her lips as she nods. “My security team will be more than happy to testify.Wehave nothing to hide.”

Ezra ignores her and turns his focus back to me, his fingers working quickly to cuff my wrists, though his grip remains unusually gentle. He nudges me forward, guiding me toward the exit.

The cold metal digs into my wrists as we step outside, and I try not to think about how everything has spiraled out of control, and I still have no idea if Nicholas managed to get Levi out safely.

“Come on.” Ezra keeps his pace slow, leading me in the direction of a police car parked nearby. I guess he’s keeping up appearances. Then again, he might put me in jail for real to get me out of the way. I figure the odds are fifty-fifty.

“Is he all right?” Ezra’s expression remains impassive, but there’s a tightness around his mouth as his eyes flit between the hotel entrance and me.

“I think so,” I manage, my throat dry. “Nico, he… he helped.”

Ezra’s eyes harden, but he doesn’t respond. He only opens the back door of the police car and leans in. “You have fifteen seconds to get out of those cuffs and punch me.”

I blink, staring at him in disbelief. “What?”

“Sylus is parked down the street. You hit me, and you run. Got it?”

Without thinking, I twist my body and reach for the matchbox in my pocket. Pulling out the straightened paperclip tucked beside the matches, I start working the cuffs, making the adrenaline that just calmed a little pump through me again.

“I don’t want to hurt you—” I start to protest as the cuffs click open seconds later, falling away from my wrists.

“You couldn’t,” Ezra huffs a low laugh. “And I still owe you one—” he starts to say, but I don’t let him finish. I swing, and my fist connects with his cheekbone.

He stumbles back, a grunt escaping his lips when his shoulder collides with the hotel wall.

“Right,” I mutter, already turning away. “Sorry,” I call over my shoulder as I take off, sprinting down the street.

I run, clutching my arm, every muscle burning, my lungs clawing for air. I’ve already pushed my body past its limit, but I force my legs to move, to carry me forward. When I round a corner, Sylus is there. He’s straddling his bike, which is parked at the curb, helmet on and visor up, focused on his phone in his hand.

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