Thief (Boston Underworld #5)(4)

But Vivi would be quick to tell me that nothing in life is certain.

The first blow comes when I rise en pointe. White-hot agony pierces through my toes without warning, and warm, sticky blood fills the toe boxes.

I close my eyes and attempt to breathe through the pain while I come to terms with one unwavering certainty. My shoes have been sabotaged. There is nothing I can do but go on with the performance and pray I don’t bleed onto the floor. Whatever tore through my flesh is already embedded there, and I don’t care. I must finish at any cost.

I must not falter.

It is with this grand intention that my entire world topples in a matter of seconds. One leap and one failed landing, and it’s all over.

As I crumple to the floor, the fear at the forefront of my mind is the snap I felt in my ankle. Logically, I’m aware an entire audience is present for the worst moment of my life, but I have disengaged. Clouded by disbelief, I attempt to get up, only to collapse again. My ankle no longer functions. It doesn’t move.

I could think of a thousand ways I would rather die before someone finally takes pity on me and carries me off the stage.





“Have some mercy, won’t you?” Papà’s shadowed figure whispers from behind the curtain.

“Were you under any illusions that this might end differently when you made the agreement?”

“She is my only daughter.”

“Ahh, yes. That does pull at the heartstrings, I suppose. But I believe she was also your only daughter when the matter of collateral was explained to you. If you are not happy with this solution, then perhaps you should pay the debt and be done with it.”

“You know very well that I can’t,” my father says. “She is injured. At least allow her to heal, and then perhaps we can work something—”

“She can heal just as well under the supervision of my doctor.”

“But the bills,” Papà protests.

“You wouldn’t be able to pay them anyway. They will be added to your debt. And when you come to collect, as I know you will, she will be good as new.”

“I cannot stand for this. This is not the way she was raised. She is a good girl. Her reputation will be ruined—”

“What choice do you have?” the unforgiving Russian asks. “It is you or your daughter. And I’m afraid I have little use for you.”

Silence follows.

My eyes are still and closed, but sleep has evaded me. The trauma of this evening has drained me of my will to think, feel, or even breathe. I have pleaded with every deity I could think to summon. I have prayed. I have cried. I have swung violently between hope and despair.

Intellectually, I’m aware of what’s taking shape right now between my father and Nikolai. But I can’t find the presence of mind I require to care. What does anything matter when the only thing I ever wanted has been so viciously taken from me?

It still feels like a nightmare I can’t wake up from. No matter how many times it goes round and round my mind, I can’t force it to make sense. Certainly, incidents like these are not unheard of. Life in the world of ballet can be a blood sport. Jealousy is rife, and the competition is ruthless. But I never once thought anyone in my own company to be capable of such viciousness. The most I have ever been victim to is a dirty look or catty comment. Such an extreme measure has blindsided me, and I’m left to wonder how I didn’t see it coming.

A hand grazes my arm, and when I open my eyes, my father is at my side, his face grim. Beside him is Nikolai, unnervingly quiet. He doesn’t belong here, and I don’t know why my father allowed it. My world has always been small, but the only thing I’ve ever known my Papà to be is powerful. His men do what he tells them. I do what he tells me. Everyone falls into order when he speaks. But not Nikolai. In this new chain of events, Nikolai is the one giving orders.

“Tanaka.” Papà’s voice doesn’t waver, but it’s softer than I’ve ever heard it. “There has been a change of plans. You must be a good girl and do as I say. Do you understand?”

My only response is to blink. I’m too numb to argue. I’m too wrecked to give him a verbal response. Something he would chastise me for at any other time.

“Nikolai has graciously agreed to provide some accommodations for you while I am away on business. There is no need to worry, though, little lamb. It will only be for a short while.”

I don’t have the emotional capacity to accept this as my reality right now. For years, my life has been on a straight course that never deviated. Principle and ballet. Those were my only goals, and I had such little time to make them happen. I was supposed to marry Dante. That’s what I’ve been told. That’s what I’ve been preparing for. For my entire life, I’ve been sheltered. Schooled at home. Forbidden from having friends or leaving the house. I could not be alone with a man, ever. It’s what I’ve been taught and what I’ve always abided by. My father arranged my marriage, and it was set in stone. But now, he tells me he is sending me away with a man I don’t know at all. One who appears to have none of the values instilled in me.

For a fleeting moment, I wonder what Dante will say. And then my thoughts gradually drift back to my company. A tear leaks down my cheek, followed by another. I don’t know anything other than one unalterable truth. I’m a dancer. It’s all I have. It’s all I am.