Page 184 of Dance of Deception

“She’s not your fucking daughter,” I snarl, my voice laced with steel and venom. “You stole her. You killed her mother?—”

“Her mother would have succumbed to this world anyway,” he says lazily, shrugging. “She was too nice. Tootrusting. She would’ve been swallowed up and spit back out.”

Arkadi exhales, shaking his head before his gaze slides viciously to Vera, who's pinned to the wall, looking terrified.

Then, before anyone can react, Arkadi makes his move toward her.

Vera bolts, panicked, making a desperate run for the back room to barricade herself in.

She doesn’t make it.

Arkadi lunges after her, slamming into Lyra’s chair in the process, knocking it over.

I snarl, baring my teeth as the woman I love cries out when she hits the ground hard, her head smacking against the concrete. A sharp gasp escapes her lips, her body writhing from the impact.

I see red but force myself to stay focused. Across the room, Arkadi is laughing coldly as he grabs Vera in his big hands. Hewraps one of them around her throat, then his fingers tighten and her face begins to turn purple.

He’s distracted.

I twist, my voice a low whisper as I hiss at Lyra.

“Knife. Under my cuff.”

Lyra winces as she shifts against the ropes, her back to me, fingers feeling blindly, so close to my shoe.

I grit my teeth, pulling on my bonds as I try to extend my leg toward her.

She strains to reach back, her fingertips clawing at my shoe and hem of my pants before finally, her fingers find the hilt of the knife. Trembling but determined, she yanks it free, the metal glinting in the dim light.

Vera lets out a gurgled gasp, her feet kicking the air as Arkadi tightens his grip around her throat, his focus still completely locked on her.

Lyra doesn’t hesitate.

She starts sawing clumsily at the rope around her wrists.

Her hands are slick with sweat, but she keeps going. I wince as the blade nicks her once, twice, a third time, but she pushes on, gritting her teeth, sawing the blade faster, faster.

With a harsh snap, the ropes break free.

Good girl.

Then she cuts the duct tape around her ankles and whirls to me. I shake my head.

“Get out!” I hiss.

“No!” she whispers back. “Not without?—”

I shake my head. “Get thefuckout of here! My keys are in the car.”

She doesn’t move. I can see it in her eyes—she’s hesitating. She wants to free me. But there’s no time for that.

“Get. Out.” My voice is low, desperate.

She still doesn’t move.

Then I know what I have to do.

“I love you.”

---