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“What do you plan to do?” Francia asks. “What have you done so far?”
“What do you mean?”
“When you were almost sniped at work, when you were poisoned, when Mikhail cornered you at the club—”
I frown. “Did Jorden tell you about that? I didn’t think anyone else—”
“What did you do all of those times?” she asks, lowering her eyes to meet mine. “Nothing.That’s what. You did nothing and waited for Ivan to save you.”
I press back into my chair and stare at her. I’m too stunned to say anything.
She’s right,a voice in the back of my head says.You’ve never been able to save yourself. You won’t be able to save yourself now. It’s over.
But I shake the thought loose and try to drum up a response. Before I can, Francia releases a sudden sob.
She wasn’t crying before, but now, she’s shaking. It came on suddenly. Shock, probably. A delayed response to the stress we’re under.
“We can’t save ourselves,” she cries. “So who is going to save us?”
“I told you, Ivan is going to—”
“What big, muscled man is going to burst through the door and take us in his arms?” she continues. “Who is going to put us on his white steed and gallop us out of danger?”
Something isn’t right.
The feeling comes over me suddenly. The hair on the back of my neck stands up. Goosebumps prickle against the ropes around my wrists.
“Francia, what are you talking about?”
She looks up at me, all signs of tears gone. Her cheeks are dry and her face is once again flat. Emotionless. “I’m talking about you taking some fucking initiative in your life, Cora. For once.”
Then Francia stands up.
No ropes around her wrist. No bindings tying her to the chair.She was faking.
She stands up and walks across the room towards me, and I can’t process what I’m seeing. Now, I’m the one in shock.
It’s Francia.
She did this.
She toes at Jorden’s limp leg. “She got a stronger dose than you. So she’ll be out for a while.”
“Let me go,” I beg. I’m still tangled deep in my denial. “Untie us.”
Francia grabs the back of Jorden’s chair and drags her through a doorway I didn’t notice before. The sound is shrill and piercing. I want to cover my ears, but I can’t. All I can do is watch.
Then she returns, her eyes dark and fixed on me.
She smiles. I feel the cruel curl of evil slip down my spine.
“No, Cordelia,” she says, sauntering towards me, “I don’t think I will.”
83
IVAN
Yasha screeches to a stop in the parking garage. Leon separates from the cement wall, leaving his post next to the back doors. His brow is furrowed like he has no clue why we’re there.
