"How long until she reaches us?" Dante asked, his voice calm despite the urgency.
"Three minutes, maybe less," Bianca said. "She came through the service entrance with two armed men. They're bypassing the main areas."
"She knows exactly where we're going." Dante pulled me into an alcove, his eyes scanning for options. "We need to split up. I'll deal with Isabella. You get upstairs, record the meeting."
"Absolutely not." I grabbed his arm. "We don't separate. That's how people die in every horror movie ever made."
"This isn't a movie—"
"Exactly. Which means we stick together." I pulled the gun from my clutch. "Now move."
We hit the service stairs at a run, taking them two at a time. Behind us, a door slammed open.
"They're in the stairwell!" a man's voice shouted.
Gunfire erupted, bullets sparking off metal railings.
Dante returned fire without breaking stride, his shots precise and controlled. One of Isabella's men went down.
"Keep climbing!" he ordered.
