The entire mansion has shaken for the last ten minutes, and outside the balcony doors looks like the Fourth of July. There's nothing but screams, gunfire, and explosions.
Everything in me wants to go check on the chaos erupting, but I know going to the window is not only dangerous, but my husband will be pissed if he finds out. Our fathers taught us the same thing— in a fight, stay away from the windows and get low. This explains why I've been huddled on the opposite side of the bed for the last ten minutes, crouched down just in case bullets come flying this way. As loud as it is, I wouldn't be surprised if the club was out there with a f*****g tank. I've never experienced gunfire and explosions of this magnitude.
Just as I rise up to peek over the bed, the door to my room flies o
