Page 124 of Guarded Knight

Panic floods my veins, detonates in my chest. I have to stay calm, but my pulse pounds in my ears.

Lara’s water bottle sits on the counter, beads of condensation still sliding down the plastic. There’s a crumpled-up paper towel on the floor in front of the sink where Lara’s bottle stands.

“Lara!” My voice echoes dramatically.

She’s gone.

My gaze scans the room frantically. The vent is still closed and is too small for people. I check the stalls one at a time, anger rising inside me because I know the check is futile. And then my attention lands on the janitor’s closet.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I cross the room in three steps, grip the handle, and twist.

Locked.

My blood turns to ice. This is how it happens—the second you look away, the second you let yourself believe she’s safe. Two steps away, and I still lost her.

“Lara!” I slam my palm against the wood.

I bang my shoulder into the door, over and over again, and then, I do what needs to be done.

I draw my weapon.

If she’s in there, better injured from shrapnel than dead or missing.

I step back. And aim.

The crack of the shot is deafening in the tiled space.

The lock shatters. The door jerks open from the force, slamming into the wall behind it.

But the closet’s empty.

Empty… except for a broom knocked over on the floor. A scuff mark on the far wall. The faint, chemical sting of bleach.

I step inside, turning in a tight circle, heart hammering hard. No blood. No sign of a struggle. But what I find makes my blood run cold. A door on the back wall.

I push it open and enter a goddamn access tunnel…

I bolt through it, down a service hall, past startled staff gasping at the sight of my drawn weapon. My pulse pounds in my neck. My comms vibrates in my pocket. Anton’s texting, calling, asking where the hell I am, but I don’t stop. Not until I follow this entire trail. Maybe I can still chase her down. Find a clue. If I run back to Anton, I have to consider her gone.

Eventually, I slam through the parking lot door, and the light blinds me after hours inside. The sun blasts through me, illuminating the one truth I can’t run from: I told her I’d be two steps away. And that’s all it took to lose her.

That was my promise. Two steps. I fucking failed.

No. Failure isn’t an option…

I spin, sprinting back toward the hotel, lungs burning as badly as the panic in my chest.

I talk into my comms. “Anton. I need you now. Meet me at the service exit. Lara’s gone.”

His voice comes through. “Say again?”

I’m already choking on the words, but I force them out.

“She’s gone,” I snarl, weaving between two stunned staffers. “She went into the women’s bathroom. Never came out.”

Anton is as confused as I am. “Kevin’s still onstage.”