It was a huge relief to know Roxy was all right—the thought of my survival making her a target was way too much for me to handle, and I didn’t need to go bearing any more burdens than I already was.

She’d sounded relieved too, over the phone. But also guilty. I knew that feeling pretty well. It’s hard to reconcile being happy you’re alive with the knowledge that so many others aren’t.

Be careful, she’d said just before I hung up the phone. Seriously, Chris. You shouldn’t have even called. I mean, I’m glad you did, but…

I knew what she meant. Neither of us wanted to be the reason somebody else got killed.

“Let’s move,” Crush said, signaling that there were no security guards looking our way as we entered the bustling crowd between the casino, the restaurant, and the elevators. It seemed like the perfect place to get lost, to disappear, and for a moment I started to think about giving Crush the slip and making a break for it. If this was all my fault, then why put him through it too? He seemed like an all right guy—aside from being a criminal—and deserved better than to be in charge of keeping me alive. But the thought of making a break for it didn’t last long.

I honestly don’t know what made me look away from our destination as we made our way across the lobby toward the penthouse elevator, but despite that, my eyes were drawn toward the restaurant—and that’s when I saw him.

Suddenly I was back beneath the stage, covered in sweat as I looked through the bullet hole in the wood and fiberglass, watching helplessly as Tony was shot through the head.

The man responsible was standing mere yards away.

I don’t remember screaming, but before I knew it, I was on the floor on my knees right in the middle of the crowd, frozen to the spot as I relived that awful moment all over again, tears streaming from my eyes. Crush with down beside me before I even knew what I’d done, his arms wrapped around me. He was speaking, asking if I was all right, but for the life of me I couldn’t even begin to answer him. He slipped his strong arms beneath mine, lifting me and then carrying me toward the penthouse elevator.

I turned my head, eyes wide, to try and point to the man who’d killed my uncle… but he was gone. A cold chill seeped into my stomach, and suddenly I couldn’t help but question whether it had been a hallucination just like the one of Melody I’d had when we arrived.

“Crush,” I whimpered as we made it inside the elevator. “I think I’m losing my mind.”

“It’ll be okay,” he lied, his arms still wrapped tight around me as the car rose to the very top floor of the hotel. “No one is going to get you up here.”

“I saw him,” I whispered as the doors opened. “I swear to God, I saw him standing right there in front of me.”

“Him?” he asked warily.

“The man who killed my uncle.”

He stiffened. “Are you sure?”

I shook my head. “No.”

Crush grimaced. “Well, even if you did see him, he can’t get up here, Chrissy,” he tried to assure me, leading me toward the bedroom. “No one can get up here except us and your dad’s men. We’re safe.”

He sat me down on my bed, affording me a quick once-over to make sure I hadn’t hurt myself before kneeling down in front of me. “I’m going to be right outside, okay? I’ve still got my pistol, so anyone who comes through those doors and isn’t your dad’s men is going to get his ass blown off. All right?”

“A-all right,” I stammered, trying to swallow back another sob as he stood. “I just… what if he wasn’t there? What if my mind’s playing tricks on me? I’m just so afraid that I’m going insane. What if that’s what’s happening?”

“Then when all of this is over, your dad can get you the help you need,” he said, taking my hand in his. “What you saw was fucked up, Chrissy, and no one can blame you if it fucks you up. But I think right now, the best thing that you can do for yourself is to get some rest.”

And just like that, I was alone with only my thoughts—thoughts of all the ways I feared those awful people would find me and kill me just like that had done to Tony. My heart hammered against my ribs so hard I could feel my pulse in my throat. The entire world felt like it was reeling out of control, and I just prayed to God I could figure out where the hell the emergency brake was.

I closed my eyes and tried to breathe through whatever the hell this was—a panic attack, a nervous breakdown, whatever. I just wanted it to end, and the sooner the better. For the first time in a long time, I honestly wished my dad was there. At least I knew that he’d be able to protect me—not that Crush wasn’t capable, but there’s something to be said about how we’re conditioned to find comfort in the nearness of our parents.

But comfort wasn’t easy to come in this situation, and it took what felt like an eternity to get myself back under control once again. My head finally stopped spinning and my pulse managed to slow down somewhere below 100 BPM, but now that whatever adrenaline rush I’d been experiencing was over, my body was drained of energy, sapped of all the power it’d used to get so goddamn worked up over what might have just been my imagination.

How would they even know I was in the hotel? They hadn’t seen me at the club, and as far as I knew, no one else besides Crush and my father’s men even knew I was alive. I had to have been hallucinating—there was no other way to explain how that man could have found me so quickly, so precisely.

“You’re just going to work yourself up even more, Chrissy,” I told myself aloud, covering my face with my hands. “You’re safe up here. This penthouse is a fortress and only Crush and your dad have the key. You’re not going to be killed.”

I sat myself up on the side of my bed, wiping away the remnants of my tears before heaving a sigh. I would be fine as long as I stayed up here—no more excursions down into the lobby. Despite how much I hated my dad’s need to control where I went, staying here was the best thing for me—at least for now.

“Look on the bright side,” I said, desperate to fill the silence in the room with something—anything. “If you’re going to be cooped up anywhere, at least it’s somewhere with a view, HBO, and room service.”

Not to mention a bodyguard who was pretty easy on the eyes.

He would’ve been a lot easier, had he not aligned himself with my father. Crush really did have a lot going for him—tall, dark, and dangerous, the man was every young woman’s wet dream and then some. The primal portion of my brain would have loved to take comfort in those strong arms, or to learn what it was like to have my lips crushed by his. But siding with Daddy made him a traitor, even if somewhere deep down I knew my father had made him an offer he couldn’t refuse.

No, literally—could not refuse. Nobody told Daddy “no.” Nobody.

I spent a lot of time lately wishing things were different. A lot of things. But they weren’t, and it seemed I was going to have to live with that. I was lucky I was living at all.

“I need a shower,” I muttered. Between absolutely absurd thoughts about going all The Bodyguard with my… well, bodyguard, and the gallons worth of water I’d sweated out during my panic response, a little cleansing was definitely in order.

And it did help, a little. Being surrounded by the sound of rushing water was peaceful, especially the way it blocked out all other noises, including my own thoughts. By the time I was done, I was feeling much better. Clear-headed from the steam, and lighter from the hot water washing away the detritus on my skin.

I dried myself off and got dressed, wrapping my hair up in another towel before I glanced through my closet options. If we weren’t going to leave the room again, I might as well just throw on some yoga pants and a t-shirt, but—Crush seemed like he liked the dress…

Why was I considering his feelings and preferences, when it seemed he had no desire to consider mine? Scowling, I put on the yoga pants and blouse. Maybe if I kept acting contrary to these insane ideas, they’d go away and let me languish in a glorified prison in peace.

Just as I opened the bedroom door, the volume of Crush’s voice spiked from the other side and my stomach dropped to my feet. His tone was tight. Clipped. And after what I’d seen—or what I thought I saw—down in the lobby, I could only imagine one possibility.

Something had gone wrong. Something had gone very, very wrong.