Page 19 of The Masks and the Dancer (Their Obsession 2)

“Okay,” Five agrees.

Thirteen nods, tipping Christy’s chin back and placing her head in the correct position before nodding at Five. “Now.”

Five places one hand in the middle of Christy’s chest, between her breasts, and the other directly on top of it, then laces her fingers and compresses her chest thirty times in quick succession. When she stops, Thirteen pinches Christy’s nose then breathes into her mouth, twice. I see her chest rise and fall with each breath.

“Live,” I grind out as Five repeats the next round of compressions and Thirteen breathes life into her lungs. “Live, goddamn it!”

“Brother, let me help—”

Konrad tries to move towards me but I shake my head. “Don’t!”

They repeat the sequence twice more, then Thirteen tells Five to wait as she reaches for the pulse in Christy's neck. The room falls silent. Time stills.

“She’s alive. I can feel her pulse. It’s faint, but it’s there,” Thirteen says, her voice raspy with relief as she gently checks Christy over. I watch as she takes off her cardigan and covers Christy up with it. “There are tonics in my room that will help. I need to give her one right now before we move her. Five,” Thirteen says, looking at her, “You know the one I mean. I keep it in the gold vial beside my recipe book in the left drawer of my desk.”

“I’ll go now.” Five nods, rushing from the room.

“Fuck!” I exclaim, relief floods my veins. I drop my hands, my head hanging in shame.

My brothers are on me in an instant, and before I know what’s happening, Jakub has snatched the gun from me and Konrad has his knife pressed to my throat, the blade digging into my skin. I feel the sharpness of it, the droplet of blood as it slides down my throat.

“This ends tonight,” Jakub says, raising the gun and aiming it at Christy’s chest.

“Jakub don’t!” I shout, struggling in Konrad’s hold. The sting of the knife pulling me up sharp.

“Don’t make me do this, Leon,” Konrad begs.

“Fuck you,brother,” I spit. “Slit my throat. Fucking do it!”

Jakub steps towards Christy and I jerk in Konrad’s hold, the knife pressing deeper. “Brother, please,” Konrad begs, his lips pressing against my cheek, his arm wrapped around my chest as he pins me in place.

More blood trickles from the cut. The sharp pain forcing me to think. I can’t help her if I’m dead.

My brain frantically tries to come up with a way out of this, but right now the only solution I see is killing my brothers in order to save her.

Turns out I don’t have to.

“Stop. Everyone stop!” Nala shouts, holding up her hands as she runs into the room, directly towards Jakub. Her lips are trembling, her eyes brimming with tears as she looks at Christy, at Thirteen, then between the three of us. “You didn’t?” she whispers, focussing on Jakub, understanding in that moment what’s happened.

“What’s that on your hands? Is that blood?” Jakub asks, ignoring her heartbreak and disappointment and focusing on her trembling fingers.

She nods sharply, her hands dripping with thick, viscous blood. “Yes.”

“Yours?”

“No, Sir.”

“Did something happen to one of the clients?”

“No,” she shakes her head, her hazel eyes flashing with concern.

“The Numbers?”

“No.”

“Then whose blood is it?”

She swallows hard. “It’s The Weeping Tree’s.”

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