Page 113 of To Catch A Rogue
"Not enough," Gemma whispered.
Obsidian must have realized that too.
There was a knife in his hand, held low, along his thigh. He started moving with shark-like grace toward the stage, but Lark's gaze flashed over the gathering. There had to be over fifty blue bloods here.
"He'll blow our cover," she whispered. "And while he might be good, he's notthatgood. They'll tear him to pieces."
The auctioneer's voice lifted. "...and that is thirteen hundred rubles. Do I hear fourteen hundred?"
The bidding mounted, with Charlie looking frantically at her.
"We'll never outbid them," Gemma said. "We're going to have to cut our way out. Get ready—"
"No. Wait."
What had Nikolai said? Had he been trying to warn her of the trap about to close about them?
Glancing up at the balcony from where he watched impassively, her mind raced.
The highest bidder doesn't always win.
"We don't need to cut our way out," she said, resting her hand on the hilt of her dagger. "We only need to cut down one, and we can still maintain our cover."
Gemma pressed a hand to the listening device attached to her necklace. "Did you hear that, Obsidian? Wait. Lark's got a plan."
"Sold to Lady Kirinov," called the auctioneer.
Of course it was the bitch in the watered blue silk.
Polite clapping broke out.
Lark started pushing her way through the crowd, her gaze locking on the woman who sauntered onto the stage.
One of the footman grabbed her before she could make it, and Lady Kirinov shot her a vicious little smile as she accepted Charlie's leash.
His cheeks were pale, his eyes black with the craving. He was about to cause a scene himself.
"Wait!" Lark said, breaking the grip of the footman restraining her and pushing her way to the front of the crowd. "I offer challenge. He belongs to me."
Muttered whispers broke out behind her.
The auctioneer paused.
Lady Kirinov shot her an incredulous look. "Do you have any idea who I am?"
"Bitch, you bleed blue, just like anyone else here."
Lady Kirinov shoved Charlie's leash back at the auctioneer. "Oh, I'm going to enjoy this. Clear the stage. And fetch my sword."
* * *
"Areyou sure you know what you're doing?" Gemma demanded, as Lark prepared herself.
Lark whirled both knives in her hands, watching as Lady Kirinov swung her sword overhead as if to intimidate. She was wielding a Caucasusshashkawith a gurda blade, which meant it was shorter than a typical sword, had no guard, but was extremely sharp. The mountain tribes of the Caucasus used to use them, and some Cossacks had adopted them. Lady Kirinov was probably drawn to its lighter weight, which meant she'd be fast.
"I know what I'm doing," she said.
"Obsidian could intercede."
