“I’ll release his sister…then kill him.” With no apology in his gaze, he stared at me with a look made of steel. He wouldn’t change his mind, no matter how I felt about it. He wouldn’t spare Damien because he considered him to be the root of our problems. “With him dead, we can finally have what we deserve.”
There were no words to describe everything I felt in that moment. It was the first time I’d actually wanted to kill somebody, watch the light leave his eyes for good. I was a different person, dark and maniacal, a disturbed soul. “I told him not to kill you…” Why was I so stupid? Why did I say something so naïve?
“You told him that because you love me.”
Damien was really going to die because of my stupid decision. I couldn’t let that happen. “Liam.” I came closer to him, kept his gaze fixed on mine. “If I had a gun right now, I’d shoot you in the stomach, just as you did to me.”
Then I made my move.
I lunged forward and grabbed the phone out of his hand. I fell forward and lost my footing, but I grabbed the armchair and pushed myself back up. I had to run away to get ten seconds to make the call that would save everyone’s lives.
Liam was faster. He grabbed me by the ankle and dragged me to the floor. “Anna, stop.”
I kicked him away and started to crawl.
“Stop.” He got on top of me and pinned my arms down. “Calm down. You’ll hurt yourself.” He pulled the phone out of my tight fingers and slipped it into his pocket.
I knew I’d had no chance, but I was devastated that I’d lost. Damien would sacrifice himself to save his sister because I knew how much he loved her…and then I would lose him forever. Tears streaked down my cheeks, and I lost my mind. “Please. Please don’t do this. I’ll do anything.”
There wasn’t a flicker of emotion in his eyes, no indecision whatsoever. “I’m sorry, Anna.”
Damien did nothing wrong. He met me at the bank and wanted more. He tried to leave me, but I wouldn’t let him go. All this was happening because of me… It was all my fault. I sobbed harder than I ever had before, not looking at Liam even though he was right on top of me. “Please…”
“I have to do this, Anna.” He finally looked conflicted, finally had a soul. He knew how much this hurt me and could at least feel that. “I have to do this for us.”
Nineteen
Heath
Cast in shadow along with everyone else in the auditorium, I watched my target glide across the stage on the tips of her toes, a focused but poised expression on her face. Her dark hair was pulled back into a tight bun, making her soft features far sterner than they needed to be. It was her solo, and while the other dancers paused, she continued to move across the floor, jumping into the air, spinning, and landing on a single foot without making a sound on her landing—because she probably only weighed a hundred pounds.
Catalina was easy to spot.
Every guy was dressed in sport coats and suits, but I walked in there in jeans and a shirt.
Because I didn’t give a fuck.
That was how you knew not to mess with someone, when they completely disregarded societal norms. They didn’t care about anyone else, and if you fucked with them, they wouldn’t care about fucking up your life either.
Catalina was such a beautiful and talented dancer. I almost felt bad for what was about to happen to her.
Almost.
The curtains closed with a round of applause, and when Catalina took her curtsy, red roses were tossed on the stage, making it perfectly clear she had numerous admirers.
Everyone filed out of the auditorium and headed to the bar so they could discuss their opinions about the ballet, even though no one really gave a damn about opinions like that.
I left from the main entrance but waited in the back. Dancers and crew members entered and exited from a different area, a door that opened from the inside but not the outside. Anyone coming backstage had to knock and hope someone answered.
I leaned against the wall and waited.
One by one, dancers and crew left. Most girls left in a group of at least two, walking to their cars together to stay safe.
I was in shadow again so I was practically invisible, and I was also lucky that my target had an inflated ego. She knew a few self-defense moves and assumed she was invincible, that the rules didn’t apply to her like everyone else.
She was about to find out how wrong she was.
Almost two hours after the curtains closed, she walked out.
Her hair was free from the bun, so long that it seemed impossible that it had all been stuffed inside that small bun just a few hours ago. She was in a yellow dress and heels, which was perplexing because I thought ballet dancers had painful feet, especially right after a performance. Why would any dancer put on five-inch heels after dancing for two hours? Her shoes tapped with a regular cadence as she walked down the sidewalk to her car parked somewhere at the curb.