Page 31 of Nemesis

Sturdy hands catch me, inches from hitting the ground. I try to look towards my savior, but I can’t.

My pointe shoes were still on when they forced me to my knees. When they loosened their buckles. I remember thinking how strange it was, having my breasts bared to the empty studio while my pointe shoes were still strapped onto my ankles.

I’m lost. Somewhere between the past and the present. Like trying to squeeze through a cave gap, but getting stuck halfway. My adult body no longer fits where my younger body maneuvered freely.

Breaths come too quickly, one falling into the next until the entire world swirls into a dark kaleidoscope of panic.

“What. The fuck…have you done?” A strained voice breaks through the static.

I push away from the source. Kicking, scratching, anything to regain my space, but the weight squeezes around me tighter. The scent of blood coats every single breath. I hate it. I hate⁠—

“Stop. You’re having a panic attack,” the voice says calmly. The vise strangles me further, but it’s so dark, I can’t find the source. When did they click the light off?

“Octavia. Stop. Breathe.”

The vise knows my name. That’s when I realize I recognize the voice, too. The face that stares back is nothing like the ones that plague my nightmares.

Soft, full lips, split and bloody.

Dark eyebrows, pulled in with concern.

“Vasiliy?”

A nod. “Keep breathing.”

I take my time inspecting the surroundings, trying to ignore the steady throb in my skull. Not an empty ballet studio in the dead of night.

A stale, dark cage.

Blood below my palms.

My side is pressed to the warmth of a broad chest, cocooned in safety. I sigh, settling my face against the warm skin of his collarbone. All inhibitions float away with the memory, clearing like fog.

“Never do that again,” he snaps. “Ever.”

The rude turn of his words delivers me the rest of the way back. Not so much as a thank you, Octavia, for saving my life back there. Of course not.

I crawl free from his arms, secretly pleased when I get a hit of his real scent beneath all the sour blood.

“We gotta get out of here,” I whisper, settling back against the wall with a heavy wave of exhaustion.

“I’m aware.”

“Do you…” I clear my throat, still raw and scratchy from my screams. I still taste the salt of the guard’s blood. “Do you really think your boss is looking for us?”

His head tilts to the left. “I didn’t tell them. What makes you think I’ll tell you?”

Christ.

“Maybe because we’re on the same side of the fucking cage? Or hey, what about because I saved your life back there?”

He huffs. “That’s a tad dramatic.”

“Um, have you taken a look at yourself? You look like a rotting piece of flesh, and they had no plans to drop you into the cage and walk away.”

This man is impossible. Maybe if I apologize for the feral bite, they’ll graduate me to my own cage?

“Nothing in this life is free. It’s not my fault you thought a selfless act would matter in a place like this.”