Chapter 49
Lyam shoves a knife under my chin. The point slices, and a warm trickle runs down my skin.
He knows what I’m about to tell Dora, so he presses the blade harder. As if he can cut the words from my throat.
“What pictures?” Dora slaps at his arm. “Stop now. I want to hear.”
With a snarl, Lyam releases me. He retreats a few feet to stand behind Dora. But his eyes hold mine, furious, filled with warning.
I refuse to be scared into silence. “When she was a child, just a young girl. Lyam—” I jerk when he lunges forward, but then rattle out the words. “Lyam abused her.”
Dora gapes at me, saying nothing.
I draw a deep, painful breath. “He abused her. Sexually.”
Dora’s eyes go wide, and she slams her hands on the arms of her wheelchair. “Lies!”
“No, I swear.”
Lyam reaches for me.
“I have proof,” I say quickly, trying to sway Dora before Lyam can get his hands on me.
Choke me or bleed me. Silence me forever.
Dora lifts a hand, and Lyam stops in his tracks. But his jaw grinds, and his veins bulge. Barely contained fury.
“There are photos,” I tell Dora, my words spilling out in an urgent rush. “Polaroids. But I hid them. Somewhere you’ll never find them. Not without my help.”
Expression blank, Dora watches me.
Time stretches, the only sound the throb of my pulse in my ears. One heartbeat. Two. Three. F—
“Untie her.” She doesn’t make a move, but her tone holds authority.
“Grandmother,” Lyam says, “she’s obviously lying. Trying to pit us against each other.”
I shake my head. “I’m not lying.” But I am trying to manipulate them. If I can get out of these straps, at least I’ll have a chance.
“Do it, Lyam.” Dora whips her chair toward him. “Do it now. If you want to inherit, you’ll do as I say.”
Lyam moves to the table and unties my feet. “I don’t know why you’re listening to her. You know how desperate they become once they’re on the table.”
“Because this is my Luci, and if you’ve . . .” She can’t finish, her hands and eyes clenching at the same time. “I told you to stop, what you did with those girls. It’s improper. A disgrace to the legacy. A dishonor to our heritage.”
“I did stop.” Lyam whips the strap free from my right wrist, leaving a friction burn.
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 chair falls 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.