Chapter 7 - The Escape Route
A hiss of pressurized carbon dioxide flooded the air as white chemical fog began pouring from the ballroom's high vents.
The room instantly lost visibility. Thick, white smoke swirled through the crimson light, obscuring sightlines and muffling sound. Guests screamed, coughing and choking as the non-toxic gas displaced the oxygen, triggering natural panic.
“FIRE AT WILL!” Marcus Varrick’s voice screamed through the mist. “KILL HER!”
Muzzle flashes strobed through the fog like violent lightning. Gunfire tore through the crystal chandeliers above, raining sharp, heavy pendeloques onto the marble floor.
Mara didn't fire back into the crowd. She dropped instantly to the floor, rolling beneath the buffet tables. Her tactical training kicked in—five years spent underground, surviving, preparing, learning how to dismantle the Bellamy empire from the shadows. She knew the layout of the Grand Savoy better than the architects who drew it.
Through the haze, she spotted Adrian. The young heir was shielding Celeste with his body, hauling her toward the catering service corridors.
“Adrian! Behind you!” Mara yelled.
A mercenary emerged from the fog, leveling his handgun at Adrian’s back to eliminate the loose-cannon heir.
Mara launched herself forward. She threw a heavy silver platter like a discus, striking the mercenary squarely in the throat. As the man gagged and stumbled, Mara closed the distance in two strides, sweeping his legs out and disarming him in a single fluid motion. She drove the butt of the weapon into his helmet, dropping him cold.
“Get her into the kitchen!” Mara commanded Adrian, grabbing him by the collar. “The service elevator runs on an independent electrical grid! It bypasses the ballroom lockdown!”
“Mara, what about you?” Adrian choked, coughing in the heavy fog. “My father won't let you reach the street!”
“I didn't come here to run away, Adrian,” Mara said, her eyes burning with an unshakeable purpose. “I came here to finish what they started.”
Celeste looked up from the floor, tears cutting tracks through the soot and makeup on her cheeks. She reached out, her trembling hand touching Mara’s combat boot.
“The keycard…” Celeste whispered, her voice shaking violently. She reached into her bodice and pulled out an engraved gold master pass. “My father’s private bypass… for the executive garage. The heavy security doors won’t open without it.”
Mara looked down at the heiress who, ten minutes ago, had tried to kick her in the throat.
“Why are you giving me this?” Mara asked.
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“Because he lied to me,” Celeste sobbed, her pride completely shattered. “Because he made me an accomplice to murder. Burn them down, Mara. Burn them both down.”
***
