We reach the wine cellar without incident. The tunnel entrance is hidden behind a false wall of wine racks. It takes three of us to shift it enough to reveal the darkness beyond.
"Tight squeeze," Fitz mutters, shining a light down the tunnel. "Single file. Everyone stays close. No talking unless absolutely necessary."
Grace is near the front of the group, still shaking but determined. She catches my eye and mouths "thank you." I nod back, hoping she understands that this is what I do—what I'll always do—for girls like her.
We're halfway through the evacuation when the shooting starts. They found us.
Gunfire erupts from the ballroom entrance, bullets sparking off stone and shattering wine bottles. Screaming, chaos, people pushing toward the tunnel entrance.
"Go!" Fitz roars. "Everyone into the tunnel! Now!"
Paul and I return fire, trying to provide cover while people scramble to safety. Major Adeyemi grabs a child who's frozen in terror, carrying her bodily toward the tunnel while firing one-handed at our attackers.
"JJ!" Fitz is at the tunnel entrance, ushering people through. "Time to move!"
"Almost!" I fire twice more, watch one of the hostiles drop. Paul is beside me, his shots precise and controlled despite the chaos.
Then the leader emerges from the smoke with a rifle and an expression of pure fury.
"You!" he shouts, and the gun swings toward me. "You ruined everything!"
I dive behind a wine rack as bullets tear through where I was standing a second ago. The rack topples, bottles smashing, red wine mixing with blood on the floor.
"Jordan!" Fitz's voice, desperate and furious. "Move your ass!"
I'm scrambling, trying to get to the tunnel, when Grace's mother trips and falls. The leader sees it too, his gun tracking toward her.
No. Not again. Not after everything.
I do the stupidest thing possible. I step into his line of fire, my own gun raised.
"You want someone to shoot? Shoot me."
"With pleasure."
We fire simultaneously.
His shot goes wide—Paul tackled him at the last second, spoiling his aim. My shot doesn't miss. Center mass. The leader goes down, and I'm not sure if he's dead or just wounded, but Paul is dragging me toward the tunnel and Fitz is there, pulling me through, and then we're in darkness, the sound of gunfire fading behind us.
"You complete and utter idiot," Fitz snarls, but his hands are gentle as he checks me for injuries. "You said you'd follow my lead. You promised me no heroics."
"I'm sorry; I lied," I gasp out, adrenaline making me shake.
"We are going to have a conversation when this is over." He pulls me close, and I can feel him trembling too. "A very long conversation."
"I couldn't let him shoot Amara. I couldn't let Grace lose her mother after everything?—"
"I understand." He kisses the top of my head. "But my heart's still racing. I thought I'd lost you."
"Come on," Major Adeyemi calls from ahead. "We need to keep moving. They'll follow us into the tunnel eventually."
We move into the deepening darkness, the group strung out in a long line, feeling our way along the walls. The tunnel is old, cramped, and smells of earth and mold. But it's also leading us to freedom.
The tunnel emerges in an old stone building at the base of the mountain—some kind of historic structure that's been converted to storage. We spill out into freezing night air, eighty-plus people in evening wear, shaking and traumatized but alive.
"Police are on their way," Major Adeyemi announces, checking her phone. "And military. The roads have been cleared—avalanche risk was a lie, part of their control strategy."
Fitz has his phone out too, making calls. He's speaking to Sawyer, coordinating with local authorities, arranging for medical care and security.
