Page 147 of Tarnished Queen

Be careful. Stay safe. Get out of here.

Xena stumbles, falls, and lands back on her ass. Her eyes are wide as she tries to scramble away like a crab.

“You can go,” she gasps, clutching her shredded arm to her chest. Her fine clothes are bloodstained and dusty from the warehouse floors. I’ve never seen her so out of sorts, so uncomposed. “I’ll let you go.”

I move towards her, brandishing the knife. “You’re not going toletme do anything. I’m calling the shots now, you fucking psycho.”

“Please,” Xena begs. “Please, Belle. I wasn’t going to kill you. I just wanted to scare you. I didn’t want anyone to die. I can get a doctor here in a minute to save Nikolai. Let me live, and I’ll save him.”

A dark part of me wants to let Xena beg. I want to make her plead for her life the way she wanted me to. I want to give her hope that I’ll be merciful and then snatch it away. I want this powerful woman to be brought to her knees and know what it means to be afraid.

But that would make me just like her.

Instead, I don’t say a word. I just raise the knife high over my head.

“No, Belle!” she gasps. “Please. Don’t do—”

And I bring it plunging down into her chest.

I let it go and stumble backwards, wheezing from the effort. I watch her the whole time. I’m expecting her to rise up again. To, against all odds, stand up and lunge at me.

But she doesn’t move. Doesn’t breathe.

Xena Simatou is dead.

I’m still watching her when Elise runs to me and throws her arms around my middle. “Belle,” she sobs. “What do we do? What do we do now?”

Numbly, I hug her back. I can still feel the vibrations of the blade striking bone as they careen up and down my arm. I have a feeling this sensation will be seared into my body’s memory for the rest of my life.

Over Elise’s shoulder, Howard is lying in a heap on the floor. Then I turn around and see Nikolai. He looks peaceful, almost like he’s napping. Like this could all be a bad dream.

I wish it was a dream.

I shake my head. “I don’t—We get help. We need help.”

As the words come out of my mouth, I hear a commotion at the front of the building. Instantly, I pull Elise behind me.

If it’s the Greeks or the Battiatos, I can’t take them with one knife. But maybe I can buy time for Elise to escape.

Then Christo bursts through the door.

His eyes land on mine. For a second, neither of us know if we can trust the other. Is he working for the Greeks? Am I?

I do the only thing I can think to do—I point to Nikolai’s body. “Help him. Please.”

Christo sees Nikolai and curses under his breath. He sprints across the warehouse floor, a string of men flocking behind him. A rail-thin older man surges past Christo in a surprising burst of speed and drops down next to Nikolai.

“My son.”

Nikolai’s father. I can see the family resemblance. The strong jaw and broad shoulders. They have the same build, though his bulk looks to have been eaten away by hard years.

He presses his fingers to Nikolai’s wrist, and I hold my breath. I prepare myself for the news I will never be prepared for. For the heartbreak I know I won’t survive.

“Well?” Christo snaps.

Nikolai’s father sighs. “He’s still alive. There’s a pulse.”

I want to collapse with relief. But this isn’t over yet.

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