Page 86 of A Dance Macabre

I can’t sit still. My skin is crawling with unwelcomed emotions—regret, guilt, shame. So I stand up and tread down deeper into the water, facing him.

“I was foolish,” I finally say.

Wolfgang keeps his posture but quirks an eyebrow.

“Foolish?” he says quietly, but there’s a bite to his tone. “Not strong enough a word for what you did.”

“So what then?” I ask, my fist splashing the surface of the water with irritation. “Why are you not angrier? Yell at me! Shove me against a wall, get your revenge, make me pay, something! Just not this.” My chest heaves in frustration as I say the three last words in quiet defeat. His rage I can handle. Heated insults. Furious glares. But his pointed silence is a fate much more agonizing.

I don’t know how to face the disappointment burning in his hard gaze when his eyes finally drop to mine.

“I’m not interested in makingyoufeel more at ease.” His expression softens into something even more painful to witness. Hurt. “Why, Mercy?” he asks softly.

I would rather be drowned than endure this.

My throat tightens, my eyes stinging with tears I swore I would never shed. “It was either you, or me.”

The answer feels flat. Weak. Devoid of any real meaning.

His gaze lingers. Needing to feel closer to him, I approach him and kneel on the steps in front of him. He tracks my movements, leaning his elbows on his thighs to better look at me from above.

“Is that what Dizzy told you?” His tone is gentle, his gaze searching.

I nod, my chin raised up to hold his gaze. I can’t control the single tear from falling down my cheek, and I don’t move to wipe it away.

His sigh is full of defeat. “She would have never come to me.”

My eyebrows dip skeptically. “Why are you so sure?”

His expression turns a shade darker. His hand reaches out, softly collecting my fallen tear on his finger. He brings it to his lips. I’m not even sure he realizes he’s done it, his expression looking thoughtful before returning his full attention to me.

“Why didn’t you just kill her then?”

Taken aback, I stutter over my response. “I — I …”

Why didn’t I just kill her then?

The answer is simple, but I struggle to say it out loud, ashamed that Dizzy could have such an effect on me. I avoid eye contact, staring at the water.

“She somehow got in my head,” I answer with a subdued shrug. “I was then too caught up on the toxic idea of you eventually betraying me.”

“So you decided to betray me instead.” Wolfgang’s voice is hard, and a twinge of anger filters through. But I can still hear the hurt through the cracks.

My heart tumbles deeper into a dark hole of remorse.

I lift my eyes to meet his gaze. “She caught me when I was at my weakest.”

His eyes narrow. “Your weakest?” he repeats slowly with derision. “What could have possibly madeMercy Crèvecoeurweak?”

Telling him the truth feels like another cruel punishment. I inch my body a little closer before speaking, my hand finding his foot in the water. My lip trembles. I bite down hard to make it stop.

“You.”

“Me?” Wolfgang says, his shoulders straightening, almost like an accusation. “I’mthe one making you weak?”

“Yes,” I reply.

Wolfgang scoffs and starts to stand up, but I stop him, grabbing his hands in mine, now kneeling between his feet.

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