Page 37 of Pageant

Konstantin is watching the scene dispassionately. “Break her arms.”

“No!” I scream, but no one but the other contestants can hear me. It’s not fair. They can’t torture Hedda simply because she acted like any sane person might in this batshit crazy situation. I fly into a blind panic, grabbing a folding chair with both hands and slamming it against the glass again and again.

All around me, the other women whimper and beg me to stop, no doubt terrified that I’m going to draw these three men’s wrath down on all our heads. The glass is insanely strong, and no matter how hard I batter it with my metal chair, it doesn’t break. They must be able to hear something on the other side because Celeste suddenly gasps.

“He’s looking at us.”

I pause for breath and see that Konstantin has stood up and he’s on the other side of the glass, his hands casually in his pants pockets. On his full lips is a smirk that tells me he’s having the most wonderful time.

We hear the rumble of his voice through the speaker. “Is there someone in there who wishes to take Number Sixteen’s place?”

I slowly lower the chair I’m holding. Kirill digs a key out of his pocket and unlocks the door to our room and stands on the other side, waiting.

All the women turn to stare at me. Deja edges away from the door, clearly afraid that Kirill is going to reach in and drag her out.

I look past Konstantin and see Hedda, shaking and crying on the floor. I gaze down at my own arms. Strong. Whole. Healthy. I need them to feed myself. Take care of myself. Fight back.

I did need them. My hours on this earth are numbered. That will be a comfort, at least, as Kirill breaks my bones. The throbbing pain will only last for hours. Perhaps a few days. Then I’ll be dead.

I step toward the open door.

Olivia moans, reaching for me. “You can’t, Lilia. Youcan’t.”

I hold out a hand to fend her off. “I said I was going to draw their heat and I meant it.”

The women all stare at me in shocked silence as I file past them, and step through the door into the light.

I move past Kirill without looking at him and turn to face Konstantin. He smiles in a way that says,Of course it’s you.

“Are you their whipping girl, Number Eleven? Will you take all their beatings for them?”

My throat is locked up tight and my mind is screaming at me to run back through that door and hide in a corner. Not trusting my voice, I nod.

“There won’t be much left of you by the time this pageant ends. These women are ungrateful and disobedient. You’ll be left in tatters in a day or two.” He runs a finger down my cheek, the same side of his face that’s been ruined. “Such a shame to destroy a beauty like yours.”

I lift my shoulder in what I hope is a casual shrug. “I don’t really want it. My beauty has earned me a little money, but it’s brought me a lot more trouble than it’s worth.” For the first time, I allow my gaze to rest on his scar. Only his scar. It’s shiny in places, the flesh raised and knotted. The outer corner of his eyebrow has been totally obliterated. From the looks of it, I think he’s lucky to still have both eyes. “Beauty can only get you so far. In fact, it barely matters.”

“What does matter?” Konstantin asks as he gazes down at me.

As if he doesn’t already know the answer when he’s holding all of it. “Power.”

“What would you do if you had all the power right now?”

I don’t even have to think about it. “I would make sure these women got out of here safely, and then I’d pull the rug out from beneath you. I would win, and you would lose.”

His eyes are bright in his handsome face. “A pity your life will be cut short. I would have liked to see you try.”

He steps away and moves back to perch on the desk, revealing Kirill, who gives me an evil grin. The baton is clasped in his right hand and the muscles of his forearm bulge. He’s strong enough to break my arms with one blow, but the sadistic glint in his dark eyes tells me he’s not going to stop at one. He could have shot the Lugovskayas, a quick and clean execution, but he chose a terrifying and painful death for them instead, stabbing them over and over again in a frenzy.

“Hold out your arms,neordinarnaya,” he says, lovingly caressing the words as he advances on me.

On the far side of the room, Hedda is huddled against the wall, tears and blood dripping down her face and her eyes hollow with despair. I’ll drown in her misery and fear if I’m not careful, and I look away quickly.

I hold out my arms and Kirill grabs both my wrists in one of his huge hands. I turn my head to look at Konstantin. This was his order, and my eyes fasten on his cold gray ones as I await my punishment. Kirill raises his weapon high.

A deep, expressionless voice speaks from Konstantin’s other side. “Stop.”

Kirill freezes and looks around as Elyah gets to his feet. He stays where he is, baton raised. “Shto?”What?

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