Page 181 of Dance of Deception

It’s him.

Carmine’s body is taut and dangerous, burning with raw fury as he descends the stairs. Then his gaze lands on me, gagged and duct taped to the chair.

His eyes lock on mine.

“Lyra—”

I try to warn him through the gag, but Vera lunges from the shadows, and my scream turns bloodcurdling when she slams the brick in her hand to the back of Carmine’s skull with a sickening crack.

Carmine’s body jerks, his gun clattering to the floor.

Then he crumples and drops, motionless.

40

LYRA

Carmine is still unconscious.

His head is slumped forward, his chest rising and falling in slow, heavy breaths. Even though the gash on his temple has stopped bleeding, the sight of him motionless, bound to a chair, sends a fresh wave of anguish curling through me.

But he’s alive. For now.

Vera finishes binding him tight before stepping back. “Don’t waste your energy struggling, Lyra,” she mutters. “You’re not getting out of this.”

I ignore her, my eyes flicking back to Carmine, his breath slow but steady. My voice is shaking. “Let him go.”

Vera barely looks at me. She adjusts the gun in her grip, her lips pressing together in thin, tight contempt.

“This isn’t about him.” I see a crack in her expression and press my advantage. “This is between you and me, isn't it.”

She snaps, letting out a cold, hollow laugh. It’s thin, strained—dangerously close to unraveling. She starts pacing, the gun still clutched in her hand.

I inhale sharply. “What is this really about?”

Vera scoffs, shaking her head, her lips curling.

“You have no idea what it’s like to be trapped.”

I flinch at the pure, unadulterated venom in her voice.

She inhales raggedly, her shoulders rising with the effort.

“I spent years under his thumb,” she mutters. “Letting that man dictate everything in my life. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think—every move I made was about keeping him happy and satisfied, so I didn't get thrown in the fucking basement with the others.”

“So to save yourself, you helped him,” I say icily. “Youhelped himtake those girls down here and rape them, and torture them, andkill them?—”

“After I had that monster cremated,” she spits, her voice dropping lower, turning to steel coated in acid, “I dumped his fucking ashes down a sewer.”

Vera shakes her head, scoffing.

“You think I didn’t do what I could? Didn’t try to help you?”

I let out a sharp, bitter, incredulous laugh.

“Wereyouever down here, Lyra?” she whispers.

My stomach turns.

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