Chapter 152
The first explosion hit without warning.
One moment, Camille was helping an elderly woman toward the exit, her arm supporting the frail body. The next, a thunderous boom shook the building. The floor beneath them trembled. Crystal chandeliers swayed dangerously overhead.
The blast came from the kitchen area, not the main ballroom. But the sound alone was enough to shatter the orderly evacuation into panic.
People screamed. Pushed. Ran for the exits. The elderly woman in Camille’s arms stumbled and nearly fell.
“I’ve got you,” Camille promised, tightening her grip. “We’re almost there.”
Thick smoke began pouring from the service corridors, filling the ballroom with a choking gray cloud. Through it, Camille could make out security personnel directing guests toward exits, their flashlights cutting through the haze.
“This way!” she called to a group of confused guests who had frozen in place. “Follow the security lights!”
A second explosion rocked the building, stronger than the first. Plaster rained down from the ceiling. A woman nearby screamed as debris struck her shoulder.
Camille handed the elderly woman to a security guard. “Get her out,” she ordered, then turned back into the smoke–filled room.
More people needed help. More lives she could save.
Victoria Kane sat rigid in the back of her armored car, her eyes fixed on the hotel’s main entrance. Security personnel surrounded the vehicle, blocking her from exiting despite her repeated demands.
“Let me out,” she ordered for the third time. “Camille is still in there.”
The head of her security team, a former military man named Curtis stood firm. “Ms. Kane, I have direct orders from Mr. Pierce. You are to remain in the vehicle.”
“To hell with Pierce’s orders!” Victoria’s voice rose with fury and fear. “That’s my daughter in there!”
The words silenced everyone in the car. Victoria had never publicly referred to Camille as her daughter before.
Before Curtis could respond, a thunderous boom echoed across the plaza. Victoria watched in horror as windows along the hotel’s west side shattered, spraying glass onto screaming crowds below.
“Get this car moving!” she shouted at the driver. “Now!”
But Curtis placed a hand on the driver’s shoulder. “Hold position.”
Victoria’s fury turned icier. “You’re fired, Curtis. Effective immediately.”
“With respect, Ms. Kane,” Curtis replied calmly, “you can fire me tomorrow. Tonight, I’m keeping you alive.*
A second explosion, louder than the first, rocked the hotel. The force of it sent panicked guests stumbling down the grand entrance stairs. Smoke poured from doorways and broken w
Victoria pressed her hand against the window, her face a mask of anguish as she watched the destruction. Somewhere in that chaos was Camille.
“Please,” she whispered, the word unfamiliar on her lips. “Please be safe.”
Alexander Pierce had just reached Victoria’s car when the first explosion hit. The force of it nearly knocked him off his feet. He spun around, staring in horror at the hotel he had just exited.
Camille was still inside.
1/2
Without hesitation, he turned and ran back toward the burning building, his security team shouting after him. He ignored them, focused only on reaching the private entrance he had used moments before.
Smoke billowed from the doorway as he approached. He pulled his jacket over his
mouth and pushed inside.
The corridor that had been clear minutes ago was now filled with smoke. Emergency lights cast an eerie red glow through the haze. Alexander moved quickly, staying low where the air was clearer.
“Camille!” he shouted, his voice echoing off the walls. “Camille, where are you?”
No answer came.
He pushed deeper into the building, toward the main ballroom. The smoke grew thicker, making his eyes burn and his lungs ache with each breath. Somewhere ahead, he could hear voices, people still trying to escape.
The second explosion hit as he reached the ballroom entrance. The force of it threw him against the wall, pain shooting through his shoulder. Debris rained down from the ceiling. Fire alarms screeched, adding to the chaos.
When his vision cleared, Alexander saw the ballroom was now a scene from hell. Tables overturned. Decorations burning. Smoke so thick he could barely see ten feet ahead.
But still he moved forward, ignoring the pain, ignoring his body’s demand for clean air.
“Camille!” he shouted again, desperation making his voice crack. “Camille, answer me!”
Through the smoke, he caught glimpses of movement. People crawling toward exits. Security personnel helping the injured. But no sign of Camille.
Another section of ceiling collapsed with a deafening crash. Alexander barely jumped clear as chunks of plaster and metal struck the floor where he had stood. The heat was becoming unbearable, flames spreading rapidly across what remained of the elegant decorations.
And still he searched.
Because somewhere in this inferno was the woman he loved. And he would not leave without her.
