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“Fuck,” he mutters, before he pushes against my hip with his left hand, encouraging me to spin away again. I kick out in a series of fouetté turns across the canvas and behind me he performs a front flip without his hands, meeting me once again in an embrace that has my heart fucking soaring. He grasps the back of my head, tucking me under his chin and holds me close. The push and pull of our relationship so perfectly described within our movements. For a moment he just holds me as we sway together, my hand resting over his heart as it pounds like a bass drum. Every inch of me is pressed against every inch of him as he strokes his hand up my back and cups my face. When he bends over me, his mouth dropping to my ear, I shiver with anticipation, my senses telling me that something isn’t right.
“I need you to trust me. Can you do that?” he asks.
“What do you mean—?”
His fingers dig into my bare skin, the urgency of his voice making me suddenly fearful. Around us the girls continue to dance, covering this brief, urgent conversation. “I’m sorry I let you down, Pen. I’m so fucking sorry for it all. Your pain,” he says, holding his fisted hand against his chest, “It’sminenow. That motherfucker won’t hurt you ever again. I’ll make sure of it.”
“Xeno, you’re scaring me! What are you talking about?”
My question is cut short when the lights suddenly go out, bathing us all in darkness.
“Fuck!” Xeno whisper-shouts.
“What?”
“There’s no time. Know that Iloveyou, Tiny,” he says fiercely, then I feel the sharp stab of a needle sliding into my neck and the cold intrusion of something liquid entering my veins.
My body goes limp as my mind fights to say conscious, but it’s no good, the darkness grabs hold of me with sharp claws, dragging me under. The last thing I remember before I slide into oblivion are warm arms picking me up and the distinct sound of gunshots being fired.
