We burst out through the backdoor exit of the building into the cool night air, the heavy metal door slamming shut behind us with a resounding clang.
The sudden emergence into the narrow service alley drew astonished stares from a small group of late-night kitchen staff taking a smoke break and a few startled pedestrians who happened to be walking by.
Their eyes widened in disbelief at the sight of us—me carrying the momentum of battle, Daisy scanning for threats with her weapon still drawn, and Madeline looking utterly disheveled, her elegant dress torn and her face streaked with tears and dust.
Murmurs and gasps rippled through them: "What the hell happened?" "Call the police!" But we didn't stop to explain. We pushed forward urgently, melting into the shadows of the side streets before anyone could gather their wits or raise an alarm.
