Chapter 306

Chapter 306:

“She’s alive,” Alexander gasped as Victoria reached them. “Smoke inhalation. Some burns. Maybe a concussion from debris.”

Victoria touched Camille’s face with trembling fingers. “Camille? Can you hear me?”

Camille’s eyes focused on Victoria, recognition dawning. “You… should be… in the car,” she whispered, her voice hoarse from smoke.

A laugh that was half sob escaped Victoria’s lips. “And you should have followed me out. We both disobeyed orders.”

Paramedics rushed forward with a stretcher. Alexander gently placed Camille on it, reluctant to let her go even for a moment.

“Stay with her,” Victoria told him. “I’ll follow in the car.”

Alexander nodded, his eyes never leaving Camille as the paramedics began treating her.

Victoria turned back toward her vehicle, suddenly aware of the weight of her own exhaustion. The excitement, the fear, the relief— all of it came crashing down at once. Her vision swam. Her chest felt tight. She took one step, then another. The third step never came.

Instead, Victoria felt her knees buckle. Darkness edged her vision. The last thing she heard was Curtis shouting for a medic.

Then, nothing.

Camille regained consciousness in the ambulance, an oxygen mask covering her face, monitors beeping steadily around her. Alexander sat beside her, holding her hand, his face a mask of worry and relief.

“Victoria?” Camille asked, pulling the mask aside.

Alexander hesitated. “They’re taking her to the hospital.”

Camille tried to sit up, panic giving her strength. “What happened? Is she hurt?”

“Easy,” Alexander said, gently pushing her back down. “She collapsed after seeing you were safe. Could be exhaustion, could be smoke inhalation, could be…” He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to.

It could be the cancer. The disease that was already killing her, now accelerated by tonight’s trauma.

“I need to be with her,” Camille insisted, trying again to rise.

This time, Alexander didn’t stop her. “The ambulances are heading to the same hospital. We’ll find her as soon as we arrive.”

Camille nodded, settling back but keeping hold of Alexander’s hand. “How bad was it? The hotel?”

“Bad,” Alexander admitted. “At least three bombs detonated. Maybe more. The west wing is destroyed. The ballroom… there’s not much left.”

“Casualties?” Camille asked, dreading the answer.

“Unknown yet. Many injured, but most guests got out before the first explosion.”

Camille closed her eyes, picturing the beautiful ballroom in flames, the charity gala turned to ash. All her hard work destroyed in minutes. Rose had won this round.

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