28.
D orran is livid. It’s obvious by the restlessness in his body language that he’s seconds away from damning it all and fucking up Fredrick for everything he’s done.
But he’s also rational; I can tell he’s conflicted by his emotions, just as I am by mine.
The thing is: I know I can grab Fred’s knife from him.
I know I can flip the entire situation around in a single, calculable moment.
But the fear of things going south – because the odds have a mind of their own – has me in a chokehold.
And don’t get me wrong, I’m not scared of dying.
Death is inevitable for us all, but what I’m really scared of is dying now , when I don’t fucking deserve to.
I have a life with Dorran and my friends, and I haven’t lived it enough to leave it behind just yet.
There’s so much I haven’t said; so much I haven’t done.
But fuck, this shit is complicated, and I honestly don’t know what to do.
I’m pulled out of my momentary trance by movement.
I look ahead, and see Dorran stepping forward.
Varsha whispers his name in gentle warning, but he doesn’t acknowledge her.
Alex, Solo, and Magner all seem on edge, and rightfully so.
Aras’s expression shows shadowed darkness, but it pales in comparison to the anger I see on Safiya’s face.
“Come now, Dorran; I don’t have all night,” taunts Fred. “I’ve been asked to leave these premises, so I’d rather not stay too long in a place where I’m unwanted.”
Dorran’s nostrils flare as his jaw tightens. “You’re going to regret this,” he tells Fred, and then, bringing his expressive gaze on me, he falls to his knees.
My eyes sting; my chest constricts. Just like I don’t deserve what’s happening right now, neither does he. But then again, people like Fredrick love feeding off of others’ circumstantial compulsions, and we’ve fallen into his trap simply because I pronounced justice on his son.
Dorran blinks at me, and when I let go of a shaky breath, he smiles a little, then gives me a wink. The most ruthless man I know – someone feared by anyone who has ever heard of him – is currently on his knees, willing to do anything asked of him, only to save me.
Fredrick stirs behind me, pressing the knife further against my skin. “Good boy,” he mocks, then brings his face to the side of mine. “Such a delightful sight, isn’t he?” he whispers in my ear.
I flinch when I feel the blade’s sharp sting, followed by a bead of blood as it drips down my neck. “I would prefer to watch him pull your innards out of your useless body instead, to be honest.”
He huffs out a pathetic laugh, then moves his face away from me before looking at Dorran.
“I’m not seeing your head bowed,” he states.
“Are you waiting for an invitation, or should I pull through with my promise of hurting her?” He drags the blade an inch down my neck, and I can’t help but cry out as it slices through my skin.
The fresh wound ignites pulsing pain, and the sensation of blood trickling down it makes me hiss in agony.
Dorran tries to get to his feet, but stops halfway when a few of the guards move towards him.
“This is ridiculous ,” he sneers, resuming his position from a moment ago. “You asked me to kneel, and I knelt. What the fuck more do you want?”
“I also remember asking you to beg,” Fredrick challenges. “But now I’ve had a change of heart, so I’d like you to bow your head and beg me to let her live.”
Despite the distance between us, I see silver lining Dorran’s eyes as he glowers at Fred. Working his jaw, he sniffs and runs the pad of his thumb under his nose, then brusquely lowers his head. His hands are fisted on his thighs, and his voice is an icy current as he says, “Let Cignette go, Fred.”
“Louder, Dorran. I know you’ve got it in you.”
Dorran bows his head further. “Let Cignette go, Fredrick.”
My chin trembles, and tears blur my view of him as my emotions get the best of me.
Fredrick clicks his tongue. “Did you think his plea was convincing?” he asks Heyman, who hums as if really contemplating the question, then scrunches up his very punchable nose before shaking his head.
“I wouldn’t say so, no.”
“My thoughts exactly.” The knife moves away from me as Fredrick rolls his hands in Dorran’s direction. “Try again, kid, but maybe a little softer this time.”
Dorran’s fists tighten on his lap, and his shoulders rise as he takes a deep breath in. “Let Cignette go, Fred,” he repeats, more forcefully this time, then sighs and adds, “please.”
Fredrick all but gasps, and I know it’s only out of mockery. “Wait, what was that?” he feigns confusion. “Can you repeat that? Because I don’t think I heard you well enough.”
Dorran lifts his head, the rage on his face immeasurable as he meets Fredrick’s gaze. “ Please let her go, Fred. I’ve done as you asked, and now I want my Cignette back.”
“ Touching ,” Fred muses as he lets go of me and steps to the side.
“But not exactly what I was looking for. Let me spice things up a little bit for you, shall I?” He touches my shoulder and turns me towards him, and before I can react, he rears a hand back – the one in which he’s got the knife – and brings it forward at lightning speed.
And I know this happens pretty quickly, but somehow, everything unfolds in front of me in brutal slow motion.
I think it’s mainly because of the sudden force of adrenaline that all but slams into me, creating a static distortion in my head.
My mouth opens in a scream, and my instincts take over as I make a split-second decision of bringing my hands before me, just in time to grab the blade before it pushes its way into my stomach.
Fredrick blinks, seemingly shocked as I wrap my fingers around his knife and use all the strength I have left to stop his advance.
“You stubborn cunt ,” he spits out, pushing his blade further against my palms, slicing them open in the process. “Why don’t you just give up ?”
I grit my teeth as I straighten my forearms to keep my grip steady, then grin at him.
“Because I’d rather spend every last one of my breaths fighting a scumbag like you instead of giving you the satisfaction of an easy win.
” My hold slips a little due to my blood having painted both the blade, and my hands, but still, I dig my heels into the ground and try to ignore the burning pain in my palms as I tighten my grip.
Fredrick pushes the knife forward still, and I feel it starting to graze my navel. “Save us the fucking hassle and let me end this,” he says. “You know you can’t keep doing this for long, and I sure as hell am not–”
He doesn’t finish, because faster than a breeze, something – or rather, someone – crashes into him, propelling him sideways and away from me.
The knife slips from my grasp, and as I whip my head to the right, I see Fredrick lying on the ground, flailing, with Dorran straddling his waist – a fist risen above his head, ready to smash the asshole’s face in.