Chapter Eight : No Turning Back
814 Words
Run.
The word echoed in my skull as Killian’s hand clamped around mine, dragging me through a sea of bodies.
The ballroom was chaos. Screams fractured the air like glass. People shoved past us, eyes wide, faces pale. The string quartet had stopped playing mid-note, and the sudden silence was worse than the music.
Except for the pounding of feet.
And the fact that someone was chasing us.
“Don’t stop,” Killian ordered, his breath hot against my ear as he yanked me toward an emergency exit.
I didn’t argue.
For once.
⸻
The door slammed shut behind us with a metallic bang, and we were suddenly plunged into the cold back hallways of Saint Elysian.
Dim lights flickered overhead. The marble floors were slick beneath my heels.
“This way,” Killian said, already pulling me forward.
“Where are we even going?” I demanded, trying not to slip.
He didn’t answer.
But when he glanced over his shoulder, his eyes were different.
Focused. Sharp.
Scared.
⸻
We turned corner after corner until I lost track of where we were.
And then we stopped.
Killian shoved open a maintenance door and dragged me inside, slamming it shut behind us and twisting the lock.
I stood there, breathless, as my heart hammered against my ribs.
A maintenance closet.
Small. Cramped. The air smelled like old wood and disinfectant.
And Killian was too close.
I could feel the heat of him through my dress. Could hear his pulse almost matching mine.
“We’re fine,” he said quietly, pressing his ear to the door.
“No, we’re not.”
He looked at me then, something unreadable tightening his features.
And for one moment, I wanted to hit him.
Or kiss him.
Definitely the first one.
“Explain,” I demanded. “Now.”
His jaw clenched. “Someone fired a gun in the middle of a gala. That wasn’t an accident.”
“I figured that much out on my own, thanks.”
He gave me a look like he wanted to roll his eyes, but instead, he just said, “This was planned.”
“How do you know?”
“Because they waited until all the security teams were distracted.”
My stomach twisted. “Distracted by what?”
“Me.”
I froze.
“What the hell did you do?”
He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “I leaked a false tip about a bomb threat in the east wing.”
“You what?”
“It was a test,” he snapped. “To see who’d react. And they took the bait. Too fast. They were ready.”
My head spun.
“So you were playing bait?”
“Still am.”
A chill ran down my spine.
“And me?”
His eyes softened, just for a second.
“I wasn’t planning on dragging you into this.”
“But you did.”
He didn’t deny it.
⸻
I sagged against the wall, my breath coming hard.
“This summit,” I said slowly. “It’s not just about our families, is it?”
He shook his head.
“It’s a power play,” he said. “Someone’s trying to shift control.”
“And the hit list?” I asked.
Killian’s jaw tightened.
“It’s real,” he said. “And you’re on it.”
The room tilted.
But before I could process what that meant, footsteps echoed in the hall outside.
Closer.
Killian didn’t hesitate.
He grabbed my hand again, his fingers lacing tightly with mine, and yanked me toward a second door I hadn’t noticed.
“Follow me,” he said.
And I did.
⸻
We moved fast. Through tunnels and stairwells I didn’t know existed.
Past old stone walls and dusty corridors.
Until we reached a hidden room behind the old library.
Killian finally let go of my hand, and I immediately missed the warmth.
I hated that.
He turned to me, his face hard.
“You need to leave,” he said.
I folded my arms. “No.”
“Lane—”
“You don’t get to tell me to run. Not without answers.”
His gaze darkened.
But then he nodded.
And told me the truth.
Or at least, part of it.
⸻
“There’s a war coming,” he said quietly. “Not between our families. Not even between the schools. Bigger.”
I frowned. “And we’re what? Pawns?”
“You’re not a pawn,” Killian said. “You’re a threat.”
“To who?”
“To the people who want control.”
⸻
I opened my mouth to argue—
But my vision blurred.
Sharp pain lanced through my skull.
And just like that, the world went white.
I hit the ground hard.
Somewhere, I heard Killian swear.
And then—
Nothing.
- Writer
