Page 59 of Rebel
“I see him,”she says.“And before you ask, no, I didn’t invite him. Ten seconds, kids. Do not blow my window.”
I shouldn’t look back, but I do anyway. Bones’ mouth shapes my name without sound. There’s something like an apology in it. Or warning.
Then I see a shimmer of red, small as a heartbeat. It blooms over my sternum like a wicked wish. For a fraction of a second, my brain splinters between run, or drop, and draw. The math of distance and death runs itself.
Carter moves first. One violent step, a twist, a shove. The world tips. Crystal detonates. The violinists falter, a bow squeals, someone screams. The whole chorus panics. Heat kisses past my shoulder and bites into Carter instead.
We hit the floor in a tangle of silk and bone. Carter’s breath leaves him in a raw sound that rips something open in me. Blood spreads through his tux, dark, stubborn, expensive as any truth we’ve told tonight.
“Stay down,” he grinds, already pushing up, already putting himself between me and the firing line. “Rebel, stay…”
“Shut up,” I interrupt, because the alternative is screaming.
I roll, drag him behind a pillar, and press both hands into his shoulder. His eyes are glassy, jaw set against pain.
Divine shouts in my ear.“Sniper in the mezz. Secondary shooters at the west entrance. Sloane, lights!”
The chandeliers hiccup, then dim, throwing the room into a low, glamorous hell. French’s voice slices through the comms.“Security cosplay, activate. Raven, with me.”
The crowd surges, radiant cattle in jewels. Carter’s blood is hot under my palms. I don’t look at his face because if I do, I’ll fall apart in a way bullets can’t fix.
“You’re okay,” I lie.
He bares his teeth in something like a smile. “You’rebossy.”
“Damn right.” I rip a strip from my gown’s inner lining and pack the wound. He doesn’t make a sound.
Bone-white light stutters across the mezzanine. A muzzle flash. Return fire cracks, mean and efficient.
Bones.
I know his rhythm like I know mine. Two beats, shift, one beat. A man screams. The red dot skips off the pillar and vanishes.
“Download complete,”Divine snaps.“Drive is free. Get out.”
“Not without the body attached to this blood,” I say, and Carter huffs something that might be a laugh if it didn’t hurt.
French barrels out of the smoke dressed like security, badge flashing, pistol tucked along her forearm. “On your feet, gorgeous. Date night’s over.”
Raven appears on the other side like a shadow that has learned posture. “Two shooters west, one on the mezz. Bones has the nest pinned. We go now.”
“Go,” Carter orders, trying to stand and failing by an inch.
I hook my arm around his waist. He’s heavy and stubborn and mine to move. “Lean,” I tell him.
We thread the panic, heads down, following French’s wedge. Sloane kills the side lights, so the ballroom becomes a rumor of itself. Somewhere behind us, a guard shouts for lockdown. Somewhere above, Bones lays down a rhythm that buys us yards.
How did he come back so fast? When we set him in thealley, he was bleeding out, and I could have sworn he was going to die. Who got to him? How is he able to fight when he should be dead?
The service corridor yawns open, pulling me from my head. We disappear into steel and steam.
“Left,”Divine directs. “Laundry bay, then alley. Iris has the van at the east loading dock.”
We run. Carter stumbles, breath ragged. I feel the tremor hit his frame and push harder.
“Almost there,” I say.
“Not my first lie tonight,” he mumbles, and I could kiss him for that, which is unhelpful on multiple levels.
