Page 122 of Shadow Waltz

The next few minutes passed in a blur of muzzle flashes and breaking glass, of elegant formal wear stained with blood and bodies falling among scattered rose petals. I watched Ash move through the chaos with lethal competence, each shot placed with deadly accuracy, his formal wear no impediment to the killer he'd learned to become.

Von Stein's team was advancing on our position when Dmitri appeared like an avenging angel, his massive frame somehow moving with silent grace despite the chaos. The Russian's weapons were larger and louder than anything else in the room, each shot designed to stop threats permanently rather than simply wound them.

“Boss!” he called over the gunfire, providing covering fire that allowed us to advance toward the emergency exits. “Building is compromised, multiple breach points, estimated forty hostiles.”

The numbers were worse than I'd anticipated, suggesting this wasn't just opportunistic attack but carefully planned operation designed to eliminate New York's entire criminal hierarchy in a single coordinated strike. But they'd made one crucial mistake—they'd underestimated how dangerous we became when cornered.

“There!” Ash pointed toward Detective Reddick, who was coordinating the federal teams from a position near the main entrance. “He's running the whole operation.”

I could see the satisfaction in Reddick's posture as he watched his carefully planned trap close around us, federal agents and corrupt organizations working together to accomplish what neither could achieve alone. But he'd also made himself visible, which meant he'd become a target.

“Adrian!” I called, catching the other man's attention across the chaos. “Reddick, main entrance!”

Adrian's scarred face split into a grin that belonged in nightmares as he recognized the threat and opportunity. With Noah providing covering fire, he began moving toward Reddick's position with the kind of predatory focus that had earned him the nickname “The Beast.”

But before any of us could reach the detective, new explosions rocked the building—charges placed to bring down the structure around us, ensuring that even if some of us survived the gunfight, none of us would escape the building's collapse.

“Move!” I grabbed Ash's hand and we ran toward the service corridors that led to emergency exits, weaving between overturned tables and bodies of people who'd been dancing just minutes before. Behind us, I could hear the groaning of stressed steel and concrete as the building's structure began to fail.

Troy appeared from a side corridor, his formal wear torn and bloodied but his weapons still functional. “Extraction route compromised,” he reported. “They've got teams positioned at every exit.”

“Then we make our own exit,” I said, producing the plastic explosives I'd carried as insurance against exactly this kind of situation.

The blast that followed opened a hole in the building's exterior wall, revealing the New York night beyond and the army of federal vehicles surrounding the building. But it also providedthe escape route we needed, even if it meant jumping three stories into uncertain darkness.

“Together,” Ash said, taking my hand as we approached the improvised exit.

“Together,” I agreed, and we leaped into the night as the Astoria Hotel began its final collapse behind us.

The impact with the alley below drove the air from my lungs, but adrenaline and desperation kept us moving as sirens wailed in the distance and searchlights swept the rubble where our fairy tale ball had become a nightmare of blood and betrayal.

As we ran through the dark streets of Manhattan, formal wear torn and stained with evidence of survival, I realized that some love stories could only be written in fire and proved worthy through shared violence.

Our masquerade was over, but our war was just beginning.

20

COLLARED BY FIRE

ASH

Gunpowder and desperation clung to the safe house, concrete walls still echoing with the phantom sounds of automatic gunfire and screaming crystal. I sat on the edge of a cot that had seen better decades, formal wear torn and bloodstained, watching Luka pace the length of our underground sanctuary like a caged predator calculating the distance between himself and freedom.

My diamond collar caught the harsh fluorescent light, still sparkling despite everything we'd survived, a reminder that fairy tales in our world ended with bullets instead of happily ever after. The weight of it around my throat felt different now—not just his claim on me, but a target painted on both our backs in jewelry worth more than most people's lives.

“Forty-three,” Luka said without stopping his relentless movement, voice carrying the kind of controlled fury that preceded systematic violence. “Forty-three confirmed dead at the Astoria, including clients worth more than small countries'GDP. This wasn't just an attack on us—it was a declaration of war against the entire New York criminal hierarchy.”

I touched my ribs where a shard of crystal had sliced through expensive fabric and into skin, remembering the moment when our waltz had transformed into a dance with death. The cut wasn't deep, but it throbbed with each heartbeat, a constant reminder of how quickly paradise could become purgatory.

“Reddick knew,” I said, the words tasting like ash and betrayal. “He knew exactly when to coordinate the strike, exactly which exits would be compromised, exactly how to turn our moment of triumph into a fucking bloodbath.”

Luka stopped pacing and looked at me with eyes that burned like hellfire in the underground bunker's harsh light. “Reddick didn't know—someone told him. Someone with access to our security protocols, our guest lists, our complete operational structure.”

The attack hadn't been possible without inside information, detailed intelligence that could only have come from someone we trusted completely.

“Who?” I asked, though the question felt like swallowing broken glass.

“That's what we're going to find out,” Luka replied, moving toward the secure communication equipment that connected us to what remained of his organization. “And when we do, they're going to discover why betraying me is a terminal mistake.”