It’s not deep enough to reach any organ but it stuns me.
He uses my pain to his advantage and pushes me away, crawling towards the safe circle where I can’t reach him.
I pull on his ankle. Keep him close.
The handle of the small knife on my side is warm. I pull on it with a shout, liquid sluicing down my side. I know what removing the knife embedded here means for me. I make peace with it and slash his Achilles. One. Then, the other.
My brother glances over his shoulder at me. I lick the knife, his blood, tainting my teeth with it. He’s all for theatrics after all. His eyes widen with fear and I revel in it.
The bastard is as determined to come out on top as I am. Survival kicks in fast when you’re faced with death. Despite the horrible injuries I just inflicted on him, he lifts a foot and kicks me in the chin with it. I’m still attached to the floor and weighted by the heavy chains while his movements are free.
Yet, I can’t let him escape me.
He crawls, a low moan of pain escaping him. Since he killed our father a few years ago, he’s not been used to being beaten by anyone. He never allowed it. He’s grown complacent.
Groggy and weakening, I pull on the heavy metal and wrap it around his thick neck. He flails underneath me as I straddle his back.
My muscles tremble. I clench my teeth to the point of pain. It radiates into my skull. But I can’t let him live. Everything inside me seizes. Yet I don’t let go. Even when he tries to turn around, to put his fingers between the chain and his skin. This is what he trained me for.
“You made me into a weapon.”
“You never deserved to live.”
“I could have loved you.” A single tear escapes the corner of my eye and leaves a clean path as it falls on my bloodied cheek. “But it’s okay. I love someone else. And she’s coming for me. You’ll burn with the rest of this damn house.”
He roars. But it’s useless. I don’t let my grip falter.
I pull harder on the chain.
He chokes. Sputters.
I use all my strength. I hold my breath.
After what feels like hours, I feel it and release a long, laboured exhale. Petar slumps onto the floor. I let go. I drop the chains and fall onto my back.
Hazel eyes at the back of my eyelids. White light. A warm touch. Her voice.
A small smile spreads on my lips before a kaleidoscope of colours takes over my vision and blackness pulls me under.
TWENTY-EIGHT
LUCIE
My right foot taps incessantly on the floorboards of the private jet.
Dante eyes me warily, while Irina and Aleksei avert their gaze. They both know what it means to chase someone they love and not know if they’re alive or dead. I do, too.
Flashbacks of last summer assault me. Dante’s disappearance. The goose chase. The fear, the denial. I’m living it all over again.
This is exactly why I wanted out of the mafia. And why I won’t ever be able to leave. Toma needs the protection of the family. I’m so angry at him, yet so scared he’s not going to survive his brother. The duality is confusing.
I can’t sit still, shifting constantly, licking my lips. Anything to release the anxiety I feel. Everyone’s bodies are strung tight, ready to jump when we hit the tarmac.
Dante’s phone rings and he takes the call, putting it on speaker.
“We got Diane,” my dad says, out of breath but with relief coating every word.
I lose all composure. “Dad,” I scream into the cabin. Sobs makes their way up my throat, uncontrollable. Irina comes to myside and envelops me with her arms, holding me and lending me strength.
