Chapter 400 Sudden Inferno

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    Laura had just grabbed a fresh gown for Quinn from the car and was hurrying back toward the ballroom when a shrill fire rm shredded the air.

    She froze. The sound was pouring out of the grand hall itself. A fire–during the annual g?

    Panic tightened her muscles. She broke into a sprint.

    At the entrance, she found guests flooding out, voices pitched high with fear, while the ceiling speakers looped an impersonal evacuation message.

    Staff in dark vests herded the stampede toward the exits, shouting directions above the din.

    Laura stabbed Quinn’s number on her phone; the call rang and rang, unanswered.

    Pick up, iQuinn/i–iplease/ii, /iipick /iiup/i! She clenched the device until her knuckles nched.

    A trio of guests hurried past, their anxious whispers catching her ear. “How could a fire break out—and right in the middle of thepany g?”

    “Could someone be taking revenge?”

    “I heard it started near the lounge…”

    The word “lounge” mmed into Laura like a shockwave. Quinn was in that lounge.

    She lunged toward the corridor, but an arm looped around her waist and dragged her back.

    “Where do you think you’re going?” Weston growled. He steered her toward the main exit with long, determined strides.

    “Let go!” Laura fought his grip. “Quinn is in that lounge. I have to get her!”

    “Running in helps no one,” he said. “The professionals are already on their way. Your job is to

    stay safe.”

    “And what if they don’t know she’s there?” she cried. “If I’m on site, I can tell them exactly where Quinn is!”

    iIf /iianything /iihappens /iito /iiQuinn/ii, /iiI /iiwill /inever iforgive /imyself.

    If only she had never coaxed Quinn into attending this glittering g, Laura told herself, none of this would have happened. Quinn would have stayed home, far from the smoke–filled

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    corridors and the roar of rm bells now echoing through the hotel. Even the decision to wait in the lounge–Laura’s idea, and hers alone–now felt like the hinge on which disaster swung.

    Weston tightened his grip on her trembling shoulders, meeting her frantic gaze with awyer’s cool steadiness. “Laura, with Quinn’s skill set, if a real fire broke out, she’d have more than enough sense and strength to get herself out. You charging in would only slow her down- maybe even get her hurt.”

    Yet the reassurance slid off her like water on ss. Survivors streamed from the ballroom in smoky spurts, gowns streaked with soot, but Quinn was nowhere among them. “Then why haven’t I seen her walk out? Why can’t I reach her phone?” Laura’s voice cracked, each word snagging on a half–swallowed sob.

    With every unanswered call, her heart plunged deeper into dread.

    She wrenched against Weston’s hold, desperation drowning propriety. “Weston, let me go! I have to find Quinn–this is my fault, I told her to wait in that lounge!”

    A new voice sliced through the chaos. “What? Quinn’s still inside the lounge?” Leander barked, disbelief and rm colliding in his eyes.

    Laura spun. Leander stood only a few paces away, tuxedo askew, shock painting his features stark white beneath the glow of emergency lights.

    “Yes. Her gown was drenched in wine, so she ran there to change.” Laura’s eyes brimmed. “I keep calling, but the line’s dead. I can’t find her–can’t find her at all.”

    The words tangled together until sybles dissolved into a raw, helpless whimper.

    “Weston, let me igo/ii! /iI have ito /iget her…”

    Weston’s hand shed, a precise edge striking the nape of her neck. Her protest cut off mid- breath. She sagged, unconscious, into his waiting arms.

    He stared down at the tears still wet on her cheeks, the weight of his choice pressing like iron

    on his chest.

    iIf /iiQuinn /ies to iharm/i, iLaura /iimay /inever iforgive /iime/i.

    But letting her dash into a burning maze was unthinkable.

    All he could do now was pray that Quinn’s quick mind and steady nerves guided her safely out.

    After all, a woman like Quinn shouldn’t find it difficult to break through a wall of me. Yet with every slow–ticking minute, Weston felt his certainty seep away.

    Chapter 400 Sudden Inferno

    Quinn still had not emerged.

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    It had been minutes since the fire broke out. She should have been outside by now.

    A chilling question coiled in his gut. iDid /iithe /iiunthinkable /iireally /iihappen/ii? /i

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    Sirens remained a distant promise. Banquet–hall staff wrestled with wall–mounted hoses and rattling extinguishers, fighting back tongues of fire that licked at velvet drapes.

    Leander’s heart mirrored Weston’s, sinking tooth by tooth into fear’s abyss.

    Leander shoved past a cluster of waiters. “I’m going in!” He yanked a hose from a firefighter’s grasp, dousing himself until his tuxedo clung dark and dripping. Snatching two extinguishers, he lunged toward the smoke–choked doorway, resolve sparking hotter than the mes inside.

    “Stop right there!” Everett thundered. “You said yourself you were burned once before, so you had trauma! How do you expect to save anyone when you can barely face the fire?”

    “Yes. I do have trauma, but they will not keep me from finding Quinn.” Eyes hard as smoked ss, he held Everett’s gaze, daring anyone present to challenge the resolve that burned behind those words.

    After learning how every siren dragged him back to that border inferno, Leander had spent months in a sterile therapy room, breathing through imagined mes and drilling rescue protocols until fear bent to discipline. Tonight, that discipline was the only thing standing between him and copse.

    “You are still my son, part of the Fane family,” Everett said. “I refuse to let anything happen to you. People are already inside fighting the fire, and professional crews will arrive any minute.”

    “I don’t have those minutes,” Leander snapped. “Every second you detain me is a second the mes hunt Quinn.”

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