Page 151 of Nemesis

The pain radiates through my stomach, the blade shifting, and I groan.

“But I met someone who incited violence in me. Who made it possible.” He raises his hand, another signal, and then he pinches my chin and forces me to see who next comes through the curtain.

The figure stumbles before they make it to the edge of the stage lights. I lean forward, straining, even as the knife moves again and my body screams to stop.

Antonio steps into the spotlight and lifts a hand to block the glare.

He first looks to the woman coughing up blood in the corner, then to us. Recognition flares, then horror, across his face.

“No,” I choke out. “No, please.”

Gabriel claps. “I love choices, don’t you? You or him, Artemis? You get to pick. Who to save? Who to sacrifice?”

My heart breaks a thousand different ways, because there’s no way I can’t choose him.

Tears fill my eyes, and unlike in the hospital, they spill down my cheeks without restraint.

“Don’t,” Antonio calls. He moves forward, his expression stern and familiar and full of fear. “Don’t you dare pick me, Tem.”

I can’t speak.

“Oh?” Gabriel’s breath hits my ear. “A little needling, then.”

He slides the knife out.

I scream. It hurts worse than it did going in, the pain growing until I’m nearly blind with it. But he drives it back in. A different spot, carefully found, and my voice just gets louder. It shreds, and I thrash in place. My vision flickers, the pain almost overwhelming.

“I’m curious how you convinced a Terror guard to betray his employers. Was it his guilty conscience? Money? After all these years, I was never able to figure it out.” His breath hits the side of my face, but his words pull me away from passing out. “He was solace when I was in there, Artemis. The only friendly face. But he was still the one left holding the key to my cage at the end of the day.”

No. “He’s not who you’re making him out to be, Gabriel.”

He hops up. I barely track him moving down the row, then the aisle. He practically skips down to the stage, where he stops just in front of Antonio. He towers over the older man. My heart lurches.

“Bring her down here,” he calls suddenly.

The man who’s clearly helping him, or working for him, comes up the aisle. He cuts me free of the chair and lifts me. He ignores the knife blade stuck in my stomach, although every fucking step vibrates through me. He carries me down to the stage and drops me on my feet.

My knees buckle, but I somehow stay standing. Somehow, even though the pain coursing through me is unlike any I’veknown before. My hands are still bound behind my back. But then a knife slices through that restraint, too.

My hands flutter around the handle of the knife protruding from my stomach. The war between needing itoutand knowing I shouldn’t move it rages in my head.

Gabriel watches me with a small smile.

He enjoys chaos and destruction.

“Here’s what we’re going to do.” He comes closer and, without warning, draws the blade from my skin. Again.

It’sagony.

I go down to my knees.Hard.

My throat locks up tight, not letting a single sound out. At least I can press my hands to the wounds. Both of them. Blood drips and oozes out, more with every beat of my heart. Kade’s sweatshirt is soaked through in a matter of seconds, and blood stains my hands.

Suddenly, the knife at my throat makes me pause.

Gabriel grips my hair and stands behind me, the edge of the knife pressing into my skin. There’s a prick of pain—a drop in the bucket—and wetness rolls down my throat.

“Antonio,” Gabriel says. “Such a pleasure to see you again, old man.”

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