Page 130 of Dance of Deception

His brow cocks.

And then, I do something the old Lyra wouldn't have done in a million years.

I nod.

Then I watch as my husband proceeds to beat the livingfuckout of Marcus. I watch not as the Lyra who always tried not to walk too loudly. Tried not to offend. Tried to blend in.

I watch as the fucking Queen I’ve become with this man, presiding over a royal punishment. A fucking execution.

Fists collide with flesh. The sickening crunch of bone breaking flies through the room as Marcus' face turns into red, wet pulp.

When Carmine finally lets go, Marcus just drops to the ground, unable even to break his fall with his hands.

My husband turns to the final man as a lethal silence descends over the bar.

Chris is huddled in the corner. The horror on his face turns to pure terror when Carmine turns to him, ready to destroy, and cracks his bloodied knuckles as he slowly starts to walk over.

“Carmine.”

My hand lands on his arm. He flinches, a snarl on his lips as he whirls, a lion on the savannah who's been interrupted as he's about to pounce on dinner.

When his eyes manage to focus on me, the red mist clears and he pauses, a glimpse of humanity peeking through the cracks.

“He’s grieving,” I say quietly. “He’s in so much pain, Carmine,” I murmur. “His sister was…”

Chris flinches when I turn to look at him with compassion.

“My father…”

Carmine’s fingers twitch as he turns to level a cold look at Chris.

My hand finds his, gripping it tightly, trying to claw him back to his humanity.

“Carmine,please.”

He turns back to me. The mist clears a little more as he tilts his head to the side. One of his bloodied hands comes up, and he gently cups my jaw.

Slowly, he nods.

Without even looking at Chris again, Carmine’s hand tightens in mine as he starts for the door.

Then he pauses, letting me go and calmly walking over to where Marcus is blubbering and bleeding all over the ground. The conspiracy theorist flinches, whimpering pathetically as Carmine drags him halfway to his knees by the throat.

“If I ever see another article about her…” His voice is pure venom. “Or hear you mention her name on your fucking podcast again…” His grip tightens. “I will destroy you. It will not be quick. Itwillbe messy. It will involve you swallowing your own severed cock. It will takedays, perhaps weeks. You will beg for death andIwill not grant it,” he seethes. “I will become your God and your Devil.” Marcus flinches as Carmine leans down into the mangled remains of his face. “Have I made myself clear.”

The blubbering sound emanating from Marcus’ former mouth apparently suffices. Carmine lets the piece of shit drop to the floor again and turns toward me.

Suddenly, with a last spurt of energy, Marcus groans and lunges across the floor, reaching for his gun.

“Carmine—!”

Carmine whirls, grabs Marcus by the throat, smashes the gun through his broken teeth?—

And pulls the trigger.

I spin away, clamping both hands over my scream as my eyes stare, the image of Marcus’ headevaporatingseared into my brain.

A hand takes mine, slowly pulling it from my mouth.

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