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I passed out, no longer able to fight the drag of sleep as it pulled me under.
30
Adam
Stampedes were the worst.
I was by no means a small man, but one tiny shove, one tiny slip could send me trampled underfoot until my bones were ground to dust. There was nothing but screaming, frantic calls to loved ones and friends, everyone climbing over each other to get the hell out of dodge.
The first car bomb was the distraction. Designed to pull away most of the police escorts based outside of the venue. It was meant to get the ball rolling, like putting the kettle on a stove set to high.
The second bomb was the main event, creating just enough confusion to have people leaving in droves. It was meant to kick up dust, to see who ran toward the fire instead of away from it. The water was boiling over.
The third bomb was meant to take out those who were brave enough to stay and help. That just so happened to include a couple of caterers, a handful of guests, and my team ? all of whom I’d lost track of in the smoke. It was an in and out operation. Less than three minutes and it was all over.
“Come in!” A voice crackled over my earpiece. “Adam, come in!”
“I’m here,” I croaked. I’d accidentally breathed in the smoke and dust. My mouth was chalky, my tongue was dry. “I’m here. I need a headcount. Liam?”
He grunted furiously, like he was throwing something. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted him tossing a large section of wall away. He’d used his body as a shield to keep a couple of guests out of harm’s way. “Here,” he hissed into his mic.
“Charlie?”
“Here,” he said with a cough. I had to blink a few times, waiting for the dust to settle. I found him near the door helping an elderly gentleman to his feet.
“Kris?”
“Fuck,” he spat, picking himself up off the ballroom floor. “I’m here.”
“Sam?”
No answer.
“Samina!”
My blood ran cold with fear and fury. I refused to think that the worst had happened.
“Sam!” Liam shouted over the ruckus.
I could hear distant sirens, likely ambulance and firetrucks. I glanced up at the ceiling. It didn’t look stable, but I’d rather be crushed to death than leave before finding Sam.
“Does anyone have eyes on her?” I snapped.
The sharp screech of feedback ripped past my eardrums, a voice shakily whimpering into one of our radio’s. “H-hello?” The duchess sniffled. “A-are they gone?”
“Your grace,” I said, barely able to hear her voice over my radio. “Where are you?”
I saw someone stick their hand out from underneath a nearby table. I hurried over, stepping over broken bits of glass and wood and metal. When I lifted the tablecloth, I found Duchess Arianna hidden underneath with her knees tucked to her chest. Wet streaks stained her cheeks, mascara running, and lipstick smudged.
I helped her stand. “Are you hurt?”
She shook her head. “N-no. Sam, she…”
“Where is she?” I snapped. What happened?”
Kris, Liam, and Charlie made their way over, pelting the duchess with their own questions.
“Where’s Sam?” Kris demanded.
