Page 59 of Deception & Desire

No.

I stand up and immediately look toward the bathroom, where both Max and Mia have disappeared from view.

No. No. No.

“Leon?”

My voice feels dead in my throat. “I’m already here.”

The lights cut out.

The club plunges into darkness, the air vibrating with the pulse of the bass and the sudden cries of the crowd. Panicked or excited, it’s suddenly very hard to tell.

The only source of light comes from the sickly green strobes that scatter across the crowds too frequently to be of any use. This is bad.

“Did you just say you’re already at The Inferno?” Teo’s voice crackles over the phone.

“Yeah. In the middle of this fucking mess,” I growl, my hand going for my gun. “I’m going to need you guys at every exit pushing in. Expect heavy foot traffic. Dante is already on the floor. I’ll get him to link up comms with you. How many?—”

“Too many for the two of you, heavily armed.”

“Max is here too, somewhere. So is…” I swallow hard. “So is Mia.”

There’s a pause before Teo answers, his tone grim. “Shit. Do you think they’re after her?”

Gunfire erupts near the DJ booth. Strobe lights flash, casting broken glimpses of chaos: terrified faces, bodies surging toward exits, and shadows moving with purpose through the confusion.

“We’re out of time. You need to move in now,” I bark, already making my way toward the floor, toward the last place I saw her. My feet move of their own accord like she’s a magnet that I’m drawn to.

I have to find her.

“We’ll get her out,” Teo says as if sensing my thoughts. “Watch your back.”

The line goes dead as I shove my way through the panicked crowd, scanning the room through the shifting darkness for any sign of her.

Max went after her. He’d keep her safe, wouldn’t he? He’d make sure she got out.

But my instincts are too busy screaming that something’s wrong for this to be much consolation.

Something slams into my shoulder, and I turn on impact—noting the dark clothes of my assailant and the way his eyes glimmer in recognition as he looks at me. I have a split second to register his intent before his fist starts its trajectory toward my face.

My forearm is up to block in an instant, sweeping out with my leg while his momentum is carrying him forward. His legs buckle, and he falls unceremoniously to the floor, soon to be lost to the stampede of patrons rushing past.

I manage to yank hold of his collar and retaliate with a blow of my own. Once, twice. I hit him three times in the face, then draw him up to bark in his ear over the noise, ignoring the way the blood trickling from his nose smears across my cheek.

“What are you doing here?”

His response is to claw at my arm, to start struggling to free himself. Then, with one sharp movement, he turns his face to the side and ferally bites down on my ear.

The pain jolts through me as I wrench him away. It’s pure instinct to reach for his neck, the snapping noise lost in the sea of sound that erupts once more as a spray of gunfire flashes above our heads.

“Leon!” Dante’s voice cuts through the noise, and I turn to see him sprinting toward me, blood streaking his temple. “Max is down—found him near the bathrooms, unconscious but alive.”

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. “Mia?”

Dante shakes his head, his expression grim.

Don’t think about it. She’s fine. She’s fine. She has to be fine.

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