Page 41 of Brutal Ice

Back in the trunk. Closed in. Can’t get out. She’d banged and banged her bound hands against the trunk’s lid. She’d had bruises on her hands for days after her rescue. She’d pounded even when she’d been certain no one would save her.

Get a grip, Violet. You’re not in the trunk. You’re on a stage. This is a show. There is no danger.

But her racing heart didn’t seem to get that message.

She heard the music start.

Violet squeezed her eyes closed.

Each rapid heartbeat seemed to echo in her ears.

You have this. You aren’t going to break apart in front of everyone now. No big deal. You have this.

The music rose. She felt the vibrations on the stage and knew that the other dancers were coming closer. Her prince would be there soon to lift the glass top of the coffin. He’d press his lips to hers and bring her back to life.

Except…

He didn’t.

She lifted her lashes just a little.

The top of the coffin hadn’t lifted off.

Why hadn’t the lid lifted? What was happening? She could see light. Not total darkness any longer, so that was a win. But what wasn’t a win?

The lid still being shut.

“I can’t get it.”

The prince’s voice. Only, she wasn’t supposed to hear his voice. There was no speaking in the ballet. Her eyes flew wide open. She stared at Dante Baxter. His dark eyes were wide and worried as he frowned down at her. “I can’t get it open, Violet!”

“You’re not supposed to speak!” Micah’s snarl. “This isn’t freaking Broadway! It’s the ballet! Shit. Everyone, stop! Dante can’t open a damn lid.”

She could hear his voice so clearly. Then she saw him. Micah bent over the coffin and pulled at the lid he’d closed moments before.

The lid didn’t open.

She stared right at him, so she saw the surprise—and flash of worry—in his eyes. “It’s…jammed.”

Her head shook. Her hands rose and pressed to the glass.

“Crew! I need the stage crew!” Micah jerked on the handle—the lever? He sent Violet a wide smile. “Nothing to worry about. It’s just jammed. We’ll have you out in no time.”

He’d have her out?

Her hands shoved hard against the glass above her.

Nothing happened. She just slapped the glass. The top section of the coffin didn’t rise.

Most of the stage still seemed dark beyond the glow of light that surrounded Dante and Micah. Fog swirled around the coffin. But at least there was some light. There was?—

Darkness.

The light died, and the whole stage plunged into darkness.

“What in the hell is happening?” Micah demanded. “Dancers—off the stage! I want everyone off but the freaking genius who built the coffin and who can now open the damn thing.” Something tapped the top of the coffin.

Her heart raced faster. The darkness seemed so consuming. Panic flared inside of her. Too much darkness. Too much?—

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