Dora shakes her head. “If you’ve hurt Luci that way, then I was clearly wrong about you. If you don’t value family, you don’t value tradition or our legacy.”
This from the woman who murdered her own child. But I say nothing. I only wait, biting my lip as Lyam circles to my other arm.
Dora rolls around, forming a sloppy figure eight. She thumps a fist on her armrest, overcome by her growing rage. “She isn’t lying. I know it. I feel it.”
Stopping, she thrusts a finger at her grandson. “I will choose another!”
Lyam pauses, the strap on my wrist unbuckled but not removed. His face drains of color. “You can’t.”
“Of course I can. I am the ruler here.”
Lyam steps toward her. “And who would you choose? My father, the drunk? My brother, Ric, who only cares about chasing women?”
With my free hand, I reach for the remaining strap, but I keep an eye on Lyam.
He towers over Dora now, casting a shadow on her face. “Or maybe Noah, the spineless American. He’s not even of your blood!”
“Luci!” Dora shouts back.
Lyam laughs darkly. “She’s a weakling.”
“She’s only young. She can still be taught.”
“No.” Lyam lowers his voice, his body going still, as if his anger has drained away. To be replaced by something else.
He has his back to me, so I can’t see his face.
But Dora can, and her reaction makes me work faster to free my hand.
“I won’t let you. The inheritance is mine.” Lyam bends over. He wraps his hands around Dora’s neck. “It always has been.”
Focused on the strap, I pull at the knot, trying to ignore the gurgles coming from Dora. At last, my hand pulls free and jerks upward.
Lyam doesn’t notice, too consumed by killing his grandmother. Preserving his birthright, and all that power. He shoves her back into the corner, holding her up when her chairfalls over. She dangles beneath the hands clenched around her throat.
Eyes bulging, turning red, she claws at his arms.
For the smallest slice of a second, I feel an urge to help her. But then I think of the girl in the tunnels, the party girl, Rose. I think of Alice.
And as Lyam chokes Dora on the cold, dirty floor, I burst through the doors into the tunnel. And I run.
50
Run. That’s all I can do. Run and don’t look back. Run and hide so Lyam can’t find me.
My heart crushes against my ribs, but I don’t dare stop—terrified, frantic, feeling Lyam reaching for me, expecting his hands to grab my shoulders.
The winding tunnel stretches before me, old bones blurring in my peripheral vision.
My feet pound on the ground, but I hear something else, a jumble of heavy sounds behind me.
Lyam.
He’s on the move.
Instinct rules my body, the drive to live pushing me forward. I follow the tunnel to the three-way split. Without thinking, I dart down a shaft and keep running.
It’s only when I pass the brass plaque on the wall that I know where I am. And I remember Luci. I picture her leading André and me through the catacombs. What did she tell me?
