Chapter 8 - Night of the Wolves
Panic erupted through the Grand Ballroom like wildfire.
Women screamed, glasses shattered against the marble floor, and the sound of heavy tables being overturned echoed through the darkness. Hundreds of Chicago's elite trampled over one another, rushing frantically toward the exits.
In the instant the lights failed, Vincent’s arm wrapped securely around my waist, pulling me hard against his chest.
"I have you," Vincent breathed into my ear, his body a solid, unyielding fortress amid the chaos. "Stay low."
"Vincent, where is Julian?" I asked frantically, holding onto his lapels.
Suddenly, tiny red laser sights began cutting through the pitch-black darkness of the ballroom. High above in the VIP balconies, dark shadows armed with suppressed automatic weapons moved into position.
POP! POP! POP!
Suppressed gunfire shattered the grand glass mirrors along the wall. The crowd shrieked in terror, diving under tables and rushing the main doors, which had automatically locked down due to the emergency security override.
"It's a execution trap," Vincent realized instantly. "They locked the doors to keep the security team out and pin us inside!"
A red laser dot swept across the marble floor, moving quickly toward Vincent’s chest.
"Move!" I yelled, pulling Vincent behind a heavy oak bar counter just as a hail of bullets tore through the wood overhead, showering us with wood splinters and shattered liquor bottles.
Vincent pulled two pistols from inside his tuxedo jacket, sliding a spare magazine across the floor to Luke, who had managed to vault over the bar to join us.
"Boss!" Luke shouted over the noise. "They jammed the emergency frequency! The hotel security team is locked outside the grand doors!"
"Who has the main override key for the hotel doors?" Vincent demanded, firing three rapid shots over the bar. A muffled scream from the balcony told us one of the gunmen had hit the floor.
"The head of hotel security!" Luke answered. "He was stationed near the west corridor!"
"Claire," Vincent turned to me, his gray eyes shining with fierce intensity in the dim light of the emergency exit signs. "I need you to stay behind this bar with Luke."
"No!" I grabbed his hand tightly. "I'm not leaving you!"
"Listen to me!" Vincent said, his voice filled with a powerful, commanding passion. "Julian wants me. He's drawing my fire to the center of the room. Luke will cover the rear exit near the kitchen. You take the service passage behind the bar to the security room and hit the manual door release!"
"Vincent, if you go out there alone—"
"I won't be alone," Vincent said, a dark, terrifying smile touching his lips as he checked his ammunition. "I'm taking every single one of these bastards to hell with me. Now go!"
He pressed a quick, fierce kiss to my lips—tasting of scotch and danger—before vaulting over the bar counter with terrifying speed.
"Vincent!" I cried out.
"Move, Claire! Now!" Luke ordered, opening suppressive fire toward the balcony to draw the shooters' attention away from Vincent.
I forced myself to move. I ducked low, scrambling through the narrow service door behind the liquor shelves.
The service hallway behind the ballroom was dark and quiet, lit only by dim green emergency exit signs. The heavy thud of gunfire echoed weakly through the thick concrete walls.
I kicked off my high-heeled shoes, holding the hem of my silk emerald gown in one hand while holding a heavy metal flashlight I found on a service cart in the other. Barefoot, I ran as fast as I could down the long corridor toward the central control room.
As I turned the corner near the utility junction, I froze.
Standing right outside the open door of the security control room was Dominic Hayes.
He was holding a heavy silver revolver, his hand shaking violently. Inside the room, two security officers lay unconscious on the floor, their control panels flashing with red warning lights.
"Dominic!" I gasped.
Dominic whipped around, his face pale and slick with sweat. When he recognized me, his eyes widened with a mixture of terror and deep, burning hatred.
"You..." Dominic rasped, raising the gun toward me. "This is all your fault! If you had just died in that elevator like you were supposed to, Vincent would have been broken! I would have taken control of the board without a single shot fired!"
My blood ran cold. "It was you. You hired the man to cut the cable."
"Julian offered me thirty percent of the transit revenue!" Dominic screamed, his voice cracking with madness. "Vincent was ruining everything with his morals and his rules! He thinks he's a king! But tonight, he dies in that room, and you're going with him!"
Dominic tightened his finger on the trigger.
In that fraction of a second, I didn't freeze. I didn't beg.
I thought of the elevator. I thought of Vincent's dark eyes. I thought of the promise I had made to myself that I would never be a victim again.
Power isn't permission.
With a fierce scream, I lunged forward, swinging the heavy metal flashlight with all the force in my body.
CRACK!
The heavy flashlight slammed directly into the side of Dominic's wrist. The revolver flew out of his hand, skittering across the slick tile floor.
Dominic howled in pain, grabbing his broken wrist, but before he could react, I stepped in close and slammed the heavy iron base of the flashlight straight into his nose.
Bone crunched. Dominic gasped, stumbling backward, hitting his head against the sharp edge of the doorframe before collapsing onto the floor, unconscious, blood pouring from his nose.
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I didn't waste a single second.
I rushed past his limp body into the security control room, grabbed the main manual override lever on the primary console, and slammed it down with everything I had.
