Chapter 3 - The Shattered Glass
"Gun!" Nadia screamed at the top of her lungs, diving recklessly out of her plush dining chair.
Darian reacted with the lethal, terrifying speed that had made him the most feared underboss in the city.
He flipped the heavy, circular oak table upward with a massive surge of brute strength.
Expensive crystal glasses, fine china, and silver cutlery crashed wildly to the marble floor in a chaotic shower.
A deafening gunshot echoed through the ballroom, instantly shattering a massive crystal chandelier hanging directly overhead.
The fake waiter fired blindly into the overturned table, the high-caliber bullets tearing through the thick wood easily.
Panicked screams erupted everywhere as high-society guests scrambled frantically toward the gilded exit doors.
Darian grabbed Nadia's arm fiercely and hauled her aggressively to her feet.
"Keep your head down and stay behind me!" he roared over the absolute chaos.
He drew his own heavy pistol from a hidden shoulder holster and returned fire with deadly precision.
The fake waiter collapsed backward onto the floor, clutching his bleeding chest in agony.
"We need to move right now," Darian ordered, forcefully pushing Nadia toward the swinging kitchen doors.
Nadia kicked off her expensive, restrictive stilettos, knowing she absolutely could not run in them.
The cold, broken marble floor bit sharply into her bare feet, but she ignored the pain completely.
Three more heavily armed men burst through the main ballroom entrance, scanning the screaming crowd for their target.
"This entire gala was a deliberate setup," Darian realized, his jaw clenched so tight it looked ready to snap.
"Pendleton intentionally isolated me at the front of the room to trap me."
They sprinted shoulder-to-shoulder into the massive, stainless-steel industrial kitchen.
The terrified cooking staff had already fled out the back, leaving pots of water boiling over on the unattended stoves.
Darian quickly ejected his empty magazine and reloaded his weapon, checking the blind corners for incoming threats.
Nadia grabbed a heavy, sharp meat cleaver from a wooden butcher's block, her primal survival instincts taking over completely.
Darian looked at the bloody weapon in her hand and smirked despite the overwhelming danger.
"Do you actually know how to use that thing?" he asked, breathless.
"I grew up on the streets of the South Ward," Nadia replied flatly, her eyes dark and serious.
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Suddenly, the heavy wooden kitchen doors burst completely open behind them.
Two heavily armed assassins stepped into the sterile room, their automatic weapons raised and ready to fire.
