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Dance of Deception: Chapter 42

LYRA

I burst out the door, my feet barely touching the ground as I sprint from the house of nightmares.

My eyes snap to Carmine’s Lamborghini, parked at the edge of the driveway. I hurl myself at it, my fingers fumbling on the door handle before I yank it open and slide into the driver’s seat. My hands shake violently as I grab the wheel.

I don’t actually know how to drive.

Guess I’m going to have to learn fast.

The roar of the engine shatters the silence as I jam the car into reverse. Then the front door to the house slams open, and Arkadi staggers onto the front porch.

His face and hands are dripping with blood, but I can’t think about what that means right now.

I do the only thing I can: I slam my foot down on the pedal as hard as I can.

Instantly, the car lurches backward violently, tires spinning on the gravel, slipping out of my control.

The car skids sideways, veering right, then left, then the world tilts when the rear tires tip into the deep drainage ditch that runs parallel to the driveway.

I spin the wheel, but it’s too late. The back of the Lamborghini slams into a tree with a brutal, crunching sound.

Pain explodes through my skull as I lurch forward, hitting my head on the dashboard. For a moment, all I hear is the ringing in my ears.

When I force myself to open my eyes and look up through the cracked windshield, my pulse spikes instantly.

Arkadi is storming across the yard toward me.

A fresh wave of terror rips through me. I fumble with the door handle, my fingers slipping as I scramble to get free. Finally I manage to get out, stumbling and still disoriented as I fall to my knees in the dirt.

I scramble to my feet, bolting for the dark, inky blackness of the trees. My feet pound the dry underbrush, branches whipping at my face and arms as I crash into the forest. My breath comes in ragged, panicked bursts, but I don’t dare stop.

Behind me, I can hear him, getting closer.

“You don’t have to run, Lyra!” Arkadi’s voice snakes through the trees, enveloping me like a suffocating fog. “You were meant for more than this! Is this all you want to be?” he roars. “Some accessory for a man you were forced to marry!?”

I push harder, my muscles screaming. The branches claw at me, but I don’t slow.

“Don’t fight your destiny.” His voice is closer now, his tone low and persuasive. “There are sheep and there are wolves, Lyra. I raised you to be a wolf. Like me.”

“You didn’t raise me!” I choke out.

A dark chuckle. “Didn’t I? I made you. I shaped you!”

I trip on a root, almost going down before I catch myself. I can’t keep up this pace forever. He’s faster.

“How did my mother die?!” I scream into the night, desperately gasping for air.

Arkadi is stalking through the brush, his presence a shadow behind every tree.

“You want me to lie to you, don’t you,” he growls. “Make it nice. But I won’t do that. She died screaming, Lyra.”

A choked, shattered sound claws its way out of my throat.

Arkadi’s voice doesn’t stop. “She fought, though. Oh, she fought. I almost admired her for it. But in the end, she was soft. She was weak.”

My hands ball into fists.

“I won’t apologize for what I am, Lyra,” Arkadi growls. “I am a wolf. As are you.”

“I am nothing like you!” I scream, my voice ripping through the trees.

Arkadi’s laugh is low, guttural. “You might not be my blood,” he murmurs, his footsteps getting closer. “But I raised you. I am you.”

How did my mother die?!”

The rustling stops.

I hold my breath, my pulse pounding against my ribs.

Then, Arkadi’s voice slices through the night.

“With my fingers around her throat, and a pathetic cry for mercy on her lips.”

Something inside me snaps and breaks.

My hand closes around a thick fallen branch, bark splintering beneath my grip. I press myself against a tree, my fingers tightening around the wood, hefting it experimentally.

Waiting.

“Don’t mourn a woman you literally never knew!” Arkadi roars.

He’s close now.

I grip the broken tree branch tighter.

“And don’t cling to a future you were forced into! You could be so much more than⁠—”

I steel myself as Arkadi stalks past the tree I’m hiding behind. Then, with a roar, I swing the branch with every ounce of strength I have left.

It slams into his stomach, making him double over with a vicious grunt.

Before he can recover, I swing again, this time catching him in the face. His head whips to the side, blood spurting from his mouth as he collapses into the dead leaves.

I turn, and I run.

The sound of footsteps pounding right behind me sends ice up my spine. I push faster, legs pumping, blood roaring, skin burning with adrenaline and fear as I burst into a clearing.

Then all I know is pain.

He slams into me from behind, tackling me face-first into the ground. The force knocks the wind out of me, and suddenly, he’s rolling me onto my back and straddling me, his weight crushing my ribs as I look up into his manic, twisted face in the moonlight.

His hands clamp around my throat.

“Join me,” he snarls. “I can teach you to be like me.”

His grip tightens. My eyes bulge and my vision blurs.

“Or you can die like your insignificant mother.”

I thrash, clawing at his grip. But my body is fading.

No.

No, no, no.

I won’t die here. Not like this.

Arkadi’s fingers dig in to my neck. They squeeze. And squeeze.

My vision starts to go dark at the corners. Black spots swim in my vision as I flail and try to slap his arms away.

“When you see your mother,” he growls quietly, a sick glint in his eyes as he looms over me. “Tell her that she was one of my fav⁠—”

He frowns.

So do I. I can’t figure out why the fuck the air is suddenly so full of smoke that it burns my eyes.

The hands around my neck loosen just enough for me to twist my head to the side. My brain is still foggy. I can still barely breathe. But that doesn’t stop the question, drumming endlessly in my mind.

Why is the world on fire?

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