“Go faster!” Isobel hissed.
Their pounding footsteps echoed against the cement walls as the girl yelled after them to stop. They passed a few other employees, though these seemed more confused by their presence than threatened.
“Your name isCaden?” Cole asked as they ran.
Sean shrugged. “Mom told me never to tell anyone.”
“She was trying to hide you,” said Isobel, tone rancid. “Because shestoleyou.”
He stopped short and winced at the pain in his wrist. A bead of his blood dripped to the floor. “She stole me?”
“Not here!” Autumn waved them on. “Keep moving.”
“I can’t believe we actually came here, Autumn,” said Isobel. “This place is infested.”
“We found the heir of Sidera, Isobel. Blaire wasn’t lying.”
Cole slowed. “MymomBlaire?”
“Yes, just keep moving!” Autumn said.
They rounded the corner to a series of closed doors.
“If I can just”—Autumn tried one locked door and moved to another—“find”—she tried another, locked—“an exit”—yet another, locked—“somewhere.”
With the last, she set her hands on the push bar of a heavy black door and it swung open, dumping them into the VIP part of the club—a balcony that looked over the dance floor.
Below them, the place was pandemonium. Bouncers tried to rein in the fistfights, and the music was replaced by shouts and screams.
“Whoops,” Autumn said with a cheerful smile. “Looks like we caused a scene.”
With that, she led them past distracted VIPs leaning over the balcony to watch the show. On the way, she grabbed hats and scarves from the abandoned booths, doling them out.
With his half-assed disguise of beret and sunglasses, Seanfollowed her downstairs and through the chaos. This time, the entrance was congested with regular people fleeing the madness.
“Just pretend you’re one of them,” Isobel murmured near his ear.
Easy enough. They pushed their way toward an escalator that lead to the casino floor.
Autumn reached into a concealed pocket of her dress and pulled out a phone. “Pick us up. North entrance. Quick as you can,” she said into the receiver, then led them that way.
Security directed the club crowds toward the casino floor. Slot machines bleated all around them while laughing strangers threw away their money. Cigarette smoke and that unique casino fragrance threatened to make him sick. Sean shoved down the pain and nausea.
“Keep your head down,” Isobel said beside him. “Don’t look anyone in the eye.”
Sean obeyed, though he wondered why. He was safe now, right? The sunglasses hid half his face.
These women were clearly embroiled in some nasty shit, and he wanted no part of it. Curiosity was one thing, but his wrist required medical attention and he likely needed stitches.
“Sean,” Cole whispered. “What are we doing? Who are these people?”
He shook his head and stripped off his disguise. “Hey,” he said to the women. “Thanks for…whatever that was, but I think we’re going to head back to our room.”
Then get the hell out of this city, he didn’t say.
Isobel’s hand darted out and gripped his undamaged wrist. Her normal-appearing skin, a few shades lighter than his own,burnedlike acid, cold and fiery at the same time.
What the?—
