Page 41 of Dance of Deception

Because this time, I knowexactlywhat I’m getting myself into as my finger hovers over the dial button, my pulse thudding anxiously in my ears.

Heat curls through my stomach, spreading like a slow burn, embarrassment prickling my skin as memories rush in unbidden.

Ofhim.

The way he chased me. Caught me.

…Everything else that came next. Things I should be disgusted or feel utterly violated by.Notevents that I should be replaying nightly to myself in my most private thoughts.

I breathe deeply, shoving the memory down where it belongs. Then a darker, more nagging thought takes hold.

Did he tell them?

Did he tell the Court that my blindfold slipped? That I saw something I wasn’t supposed to? Are they even going toletme back?

Well, only one way to find out.

I press call.

The line rings once.

Twice.

Then—

A soft chime.

“We’re sorry, the number you have dialed is no longer in service.”

My heart drops.

No.

No, no, no.

I stare at the screen, then hit the call button again.

The same chime. The same flat, robotic voice telling me I’m fucked.

Shit.

I straighten my shoulders, dragging in a steadying breath, slipping everything behind a carefully controlled mask as panic begins to overtake me.

No. This isn’t the time to fall apart. I'll figure it out. Somehow.

I count to three. Then I round the corner.

The alley behind the Mercury Opera House is crowded with dancers, as it usually is at the start of the day. Some stretch against the railing despite the cold, others sip coffee or smoke cigarettes, huddled together in quiet conversation.

It’s an unspoken ritual, this lingering. The calm before the storm. Because the second we step through those doors, we stop belonging to ourselves.

Inside, we are Madame Kuzmina’s.

I spot Milena and Naomi immediately. Naomi is bundled up in a scarf, her dark hair piled into a tight bun, her hands wrappedaround a steaming coffee. Milena is bare-shouldered despite the chill, and her sleek blonde ponytail swishes when she turns at the sound of my footsteps.

“Hey!” Milena says, a small grin curling her pouty lips. “We were about to send a search party.”

Naomi huffs, blowing on her coffee. “She’s literally two minutes later than usual.”

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