Page 171 of Dance of Deception

It’s the absence of fight or flight.

It’s me letting the ball drop to the ground, because I’m not playing the game anymore.

And so, silently, the air crackling around us, Carmine and I just stare at each other.

I don’t say anything.

He doesn’t either.

Neither of us blinks.

Neither of us breathes.

He steps away from me, and my heart begins to wrench. I blink, my haggard eyes meeting his fierce ones in the silent room.

A flicker of something raw and broken flashes across his face. Something that won’t ever be mended. Not now.

Neither of us says a word, but we both feel the weight of what just happened.

It's the only way this ends.

The only way this was evergoingto end.

Slowly, I back away from him, my eyes never leaving his. I keep going, bumping a side table before I get to the door. I reach behind me, twisting the knob and pulling it open before I slip out.

Just before I close it, our eyes lock again through the crack.

Then, with a click, our connection breaks.

I turn, and I run.

This time, he doesn’t chase me.

And that’s the unkindest cut of all.

36

LYRA

The cold airhits my face like a slap as I stumble out of the mansion, my breath choppy, my heart pounding so hard it drowns out everything else.

Then the reality outside the house slams into me.

Voices. Shouts. The blinding flashes of cameras.

The Barone mansion isswarmedwith professional news crews, amateur journalists, and maybe just people who stopped to grab a torch or pitchfork, spilling off the sidewalk and onto part of 5th Avenue.

The moment they spot me, chaos erupts.

“LYRA!!” a voice screams as a million camera flashes explode in my face.

“Do you have any comment about your father’s copycat killer?”

“Did you know the victims?”

“Do you think your father is still alive?”

“Where’s Marcus Chen?!?”

---