Page 125 of Rapunzel Is Losing It

“I have a country-wide organization that deals with thousands of young women in desperate need of jobs.”

“Cordelia, stop,” Silas muttered from the other side of the room.

“Stay out of this, Whitaker,” I hissed, because I just needed Victor’s uncle to say something incriminating. Something we could use against him.

“Piotr,” the man by the bar straightened and nodded at the window.

Behind me, the crowd roared and bright lights flashed into the VIP suite. There was only one reason Piotr Yelchin should look out these windows right now, and it chased goosebumps up my neck.

I turned to see Victor cutting his path down the crowd, clad in his shorts and a sports jacket. He didn’t look up, didn’t perform for the camera, didn’t high-five the audience, like I’d seen him do in some older fight videos. No idea who those people surrounding him were, but none of them were Irina. She hadn’t gotten to him. He didn’t know I was here. He didn’t know that he didn’t have to fight.

“No, no, no,” I muttered, hands wrapping around the straps of my bag until my knuckles turned white. “No, he can’t fight. He’ll die.” Panic seeped through every word. “Silver’s too fast. He’ll die. Where’s Irina? She was-”

“Irina?” Piotr’s voice could have cut glass. “You brought your sister?”

My breathing stilled.

I’d fucked up.

I whirled around and somehow everything happened all at once. Luka tore the gun from the plastic bag. His father pulled his own piece from inside his suit. And in the corner, Victor’s trainer sprang into motion. Within a split-second, my mind showed me how the next moments would play out in perfect slow motion. Luka pointing the gun at his father and firing,being tackled from behind, bullet missing its target. His own father would shoot him. None of us would walk out of here.

I’d fucked up.

For once, I didn’t think, and I didn’t hesitate. I justknewwhat had to happen. My bodyknewwhat to do. My hand was in my bag, curled around cold metal and pink rhinestones, and my thumb flicked the safety off before I’d even pointed the gun. I didn’t even pause to take aim. I fired.

My arm jerked around the kick back of the gun, and the shot echoed in my ears.

But for a moment, nothing happened. Nobody paused. Luka aimed for his father, and his father aimed for him, and Yury was halfway across the room.

And then Piotr Yelchin dropped to the ground.

“Hide your gun, Cordelia,” Luka hissed and swung his arm around. With the barrel of Luka’s gun pointed straight at his head, Yury stopped dead in his tracks.

Piotr Yelchin lay still. Perfectly, unbreathingly still. And dark crimson blood pooled fast from the hole in his neck. Not crimson. I mentally flipped through the catalog of colors I’d been painting with. Perylene maroon. Piotr Yelchin bled perylene maroon from his arteries.

“Cordelia, put it the fuck away. Now.”

Something about Luka’s tone got through enough to let my hand drop back into my bag - just in time for the door to burst open. The three security guards had their own guns drawn. All of them immediately zeroed in on Luka.

Furious Russian was exchanged. It didn’t matter though because the crowd behind me was making the window at my back tremble.

“I have to go,” I muttered. Nobody looked at me. I glanced between Silas and Luka and Piotr’s body. Logically, I knew how much blood a human contained. I’d never seen someone bleedout though. The maroon pool was growing, inches from my feet. “I have to go.”

When still nobody looked at me, I took a step, only for the damn heels to wobble. Or maybe it was my legs. My knees seemed to tremble like loose flower petals on a windy day. I kicked off the stupid shoes and they landed in the puddle of blood with a splash. Perylene maroon spatters on opera pink vinyl. I could file that away as another image of shoes to haunt me. For now, I had to get out of here.

“I’m going to get Victor,” I said to nobody in particular as I inched towards the door and the three men with guns.

“Let her go,” Luka said, probably in English for my benefit.

Two of the men kept their handguns pointed at Luka, but the third one, the one closest to me, lowered his arms and stepped aside. He’d listened to Luka’s command.

Kill the boss, become the boss, as long as it stays in the family.That’s what Victor had told me.

I shot one last look back at Luka, feet planted in the gleaming red lake of his own father’s blood, before I ran. My socked feet pounded into the ground as I sprinted down the corridor. Shadows lurked around the corners of my vision, but I grit my teeth and focused on the pain in my wrist from shooting a gun, on the twisting ache in my stomach from killing a man, on the throbbing in my ankles because I’d worn high heels to a gun fight. I focused on the hurt to stay present as I barreled past some redheaded woman carrying a big bucket of popcorn out the elevator. The popcorn sprayed through the air and she yelled at me, but I was in the elevator and I pressed the button for the arena floor often and hard until the elevator doors finally fucking closed.

Piotr Yelchin was dead and Victor didn’t have to fight.

His uncle was dead and I could take him home.

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