Page 37 of Dance with Death

Entrechat—

“Would you fucking stop already? Christ!” Bianca shouts at me through our shared box wall.

I stop mid-jump, landing hard on my feet in exasperation. Pain shoots through my ankle with the rough landing—my healing tendons require control and precision. She paces in the cage beside me, her fingers digging into her hair and pulling.

“All day with the goddamndancing.All fucking day!”

I glare at her, doing two more pirouettes on my good foot out of spite. I do feel bad for her frustration, but I would’ve lost my mind by now had I not been able to do what little dancing I can do inside my cage. We’re all falling to pieces in this strange sort of isolation. We’re only taken from our boxes twice a week to shower behind the staircase.

Vigo has taken the other two girls upstairs on some type of rotation system, once every couple of days. He hasn’t taken me upstairs yet, but I’ve learned my place after only a month here.

We’re Vigo’s broken dolls.

You’re not fucking broken, Anya,Ezra’s voice shouts in my head.

It’s jarring, making my muscles jerk. The shock of its clarity lowers me to the floor, and I sit on the cold concrete with my legs stretched out in front of me.

My fingers touch my lips and I nibble on my thumbnail, feeling a jolt of lightning flash through my body at the sound of Ezra in my mind.

It’s stirring the way he comes back to me so unexpectedly, so powerfully. If I close my eyes and inhale slowly, I can nearly smell the way his dance-induced sweat mingled with the soft peaches and cream scent of his soap. It was always the most intoxicating mixture of sweetness and masculinity.

I’m lost in that thought when Vigo comes down the stairs and I lift my head to look at him blankly. It takes me moments to blink back from memories of Ezra to reality, but as he walks past the first box, his eyes catch mine and lock me in.

He stalks past the middle box and my breath catches in my throat. He stops in front of my box—the third and final box—and cold sweat forms at the back of my neck.

I push slowly to my feet, tugging my stupid blue dress down to ensure it covers my bare bottom. He steps closer to the box and I step back on instinct. He enters a pin on the keypad entry, and I step back again, then again.

As the door pops open, he tugs on it, swinging it wide. “Come with me,” he grins.

Oh, God.

Be strong, just be strong.

I pause for a beat, then lift my chin and move slowly toward him. I won’t fight it like the other girls do with him every time he comes for them. I’d rather save my energy for when it’s needed most.

And I have a feeling I’m going to need it once we’re alone.

I can nearly sense Ezra’s disappointment in my resignation, knowing he would’ve attacked, tried to fight, and run. But I quickly let go of that disappointment as I exhale. I know better than to fight the inevitable.

Still, my heart pumps wildly against my ribcage.

He holds his arm out toward the staircase. “Up you go. Stop and wait for me when you reach the kitchen.”

No.

Don’t go.

Don’t go, don’t go, don’t go.

It’s the first time I’ve been asked to go upstairs and my pulse beats steadily with the warning,don’t go, don’t go.

But I have no choice.

Chapter 11

Anya

I move pastVigo to the staircase. Though I’m moving better now—I am even able to do some jumps and turns in my tiny cell—my foot is still stiff and a bit inflexible as I walk.

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