Riley’s lungs burned as she sprinted through the narrow side corridors, the distant screams and clashes of the Wild Cat Feast echoing behind her like a nightmare she couldn’t outrun. Her legs ached from the earlier activities with Armani, but fear kept her moving. She had barely made it twenty yards when two burly bodyguards rounded the corner ahead of her, guns already drawn.
Their eyes locked on her.
“There she is!”
Riley cursed loudly, spinning on her heel. “f**k! This is all Armani’s fault! That stupid, possessive bastard dragged me into this hell!”
Gunshots cracked behind her — sharp, deafening. Bullets ricocheted off the stone walls, sending sparks flying. She ducked low and kept running, heart slamming against her ribs.
“Stop running, Number 90!” one of the guards shouted.
Ril
