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40
Pen
Istand in the middle of the cage and wait. The lights are out, and the pyrotechnics won’t start until the music does. There’s a general buzz of excitement and a tension that fills the air much like it had that night I danced here three weeks ago. Except this time, I’m not second guessing what’s happening.
This timeI’min control.
There’s no fucking, there’s only anticipation and a roomful of gangsters waiting to seemedance. For the first time in a long, long time, I feel powerful.
Surrounding me in a circle are the girls. They look amazing and a far cry from what these gangsters have come to expect. Grim agreed to trust my artistic streak and paid for the outfits to be made, no expenses spared. Each of the girls are barefoot and wearing black bodysuits encrusted with tiny black and silver gemstones which sparkle when the light catches them. The sides of their bodysuits have a section cut out of them, showing off their beautiful curves and acknowledging what they once were. I wanted them to use their sexual prowess as a weapon, much like I use dance as mine. Their eyes are framed by kohl liner and their lips shimmer with gloss. All six have their hair pulled back in a high ponytail and their legs are bare. In short, they look fucking incredible.
In contrast, I’m wearing the dress Zayn bought me. It fitted perfectly with the idea I had for the dance. From the ankles up, my legs have been painted on with body makeup, flames licking upwards—not as a nod to Malik Brov, The Collector, though I suspect he’ll see it that way—but because I have a fire, a strength thatburnswithin me.
Three years ago my brother and Jeb changed the course of my future, they took away my happiness, my joy, and I let them. They tried to dampen my fire, they tried to make me weak, and they almost succeeded, but tonight I’m rising from the ashes, like a motherfucking phoenix from the flames. From this moment on, I will not allow anyone to get between me and the men I love. Xeno might have disappeared, but I have to trust he will return. I have to trust that my love for him is enough to bring us back together, and when he returns I’m going to fight for us. Forallof us.
“Ready?” I whisper.
“Ready,” the girls respond in unison. We’ve practised every spare moment and they’ve got this routine down.
“I’m so proud of you all.” And even though I can’t see their faces clearly, I know they’re smiling at me.
“Let’s do this,” Nancy says. She was the beautiful blonde who acknowledged me that night I first danced in the cage. She’s the best dancer of the six.
Drawing in a soothing breath, I get into position. With my knees bent in a plié and my arms held wide, I drop my head and wait. Around me the girls raise their arms and rest their hands on each other’s shoulders.
Thump, thump, thump, thump.
The opening beat ofPlay With Fireby Sam Tinnesz begins to sound out around us. It’s the perfect song to represent how I feel.
Danger, secrets, past hurt, anger, all of it is funnelled into this dance.
Like a match lighting petrol, walking away from the Breakers had blown up in all our faces, burning us all. But now that the truth has been shared, I know we’ll find a way to rise up out of the damn ashes.All of us.
Even Xeno.
I have to believe he will come back. I know I hurt him, but I also know he felt guilty. I saw it in his eyes, he isn’t to blame. Jeb and David are, and one day those motherfuckers will get their comeuppance.
Drawing strength from the music, from the badass dancers surrounding me, I let the angry cadence of Sam Tinnesz’s voice lift me emotionally. I’m fucking ready.
The first line of the song plays just as indoor flares rigged to each post of the cage go up in a burst of startling orange and yellow sparks, heating our skin in a fiery glow. With the next beat the flares suddenly go out and the cage is lit instead by a soft orange glow. This is the cue for the girls to begin to dance around me, and just like I knew it would be, their timing is perfect. Twisting and turning, spinning low, then sweeping back up high, the girls move like ash billowing from the flames of a fire.
As I watch them, my veins run with heat, with passion, with a raw intensity and a determination to prove my strength, to show my worth. I’m no longer weakened by Jeb and David’s threats. I’ve found a way to protect my sister and myself. It may not be foolproof, but it’s a fucking start. I’m not that terrified, cornered girl anymore, I’m so much more than that. I’ll only get stronger each and every day I’m surrounded by my boys.
Mymen.MyBreakers.
This dance is for them as much as it’s for me.
A breeze passes over my skin, lifting up my tulle skirt and fanning the flames that have always burned inside my chest. I spin on my feet in a series of fouetté turns, the girls mirroring me.
They’re the ash.
I’m the flames.
The dress Zayn bought me moves fluidly, the tulle skirt light, perfect for dancing in. The material whispers over my skin, revealing my thighs, and showing off my dark, blood-red underwear as I move. Just like we practiced, the girls raise their hands in the air above them as six, topless men lower down from silk ropes and grasp their wrists. One by one they’re lifted ten feet off the ground, as though a fierce wind has blown through the warehouse and has churned the ash rising up from the flames,from me.
Below the spinning, sparkling girls, I dance.
Every step is a word. Every line of my body, a story. I tell my tale right here in the club named the same. For some it will just be a pretty dance, a performance to thrill, but this isn’t for the gangsters that surround me. This is for the Breakers. This is forthem.
