LEO
Irace down the stairs, my heart pounding as I take them two at a time. Mal and Thorin thunder along behind me. When we get to the ground floor, we’re directed out a fire door at the side of the building. The second we step outside, my eyes sweep the crowd for Bree. We can’t be more than a minute or two behind her, but she’s nowhere in sight. I call her name, but don’t get a response.
We’re in a small, dark alley between buildings and it’s packed with Club Sin members in varying states of dress, all hurrying away from the building. Some go toward the front, most head to the back of the building, splitting off to the right and left.
“Fuck,” Mal mutters behind my right shoulder. ‘Fuck’ is right. In my haste to get her out of the building safely, I sent her outside, on her own, right in the middle of a scene with zero fucking aftercare. And now that we’re outside and there’s no god damn fire or smoke in sight, I’m pissed. I’m pissed at the club, I’m pissed at the situation, I’m pissed at Thorin and Mal for not being any better than me, but mostly I’m pissed at myself. I — we — know better.
“Spread out,” Thorin says, his voice thick. “Leo head to the front. Mal, circle to the left, I’ll go right. Text if you find her.” Thorin takes off, jogging through the crowd. I scrub my palm over my face and turn to head up the alley in the opposite direction, but a hand on my shoulder stops me.
“Stop beating yourself up,” Mal says. “We’ll find her. She’ll be okay.”
“You don’t know that. She could be fucking dropping right this second. If we don’t find her—” The words come out harsher than I meant, but Mal doesn’t hold it against me.
“I know. We’ll find her.”