Stolen: Dante’s Vow by Natasha Knight
Mara
Iwatch him with the little girl while she has a snack. She’s five years old and small for her age, swinging her legs back and forth under the table. Jericho has to coax her to eat but she’s clearly more interested in feeding her bear and watching me. I get the feeling she doesn’t get many visitors.
When the woman, Angelique’s grandmother, turns the corner pulling along a child’s suitcase, his expression changes and he hurries to her.
“You should have let one of the soldiers carry it down,” he tells her, taking the case from her.
“It wasn’t heavy,” she says. “I’m not that feeble yet.”
“Still.” He studies her. “You’re tired.”
She shakes her head. “No more than usual.”
“Is it time for our trip?” the little girl asks.
They both turn to her. “Almost,” Jericho says.
“Is Mara coming with us?” she casts a curious but shy glance at me and smiles. When I smile back, she hides her face in her stuffed bear’s stomach.
“Part of the way,” Jericho answers.
He’s a different man with her. In a way, I’m glad to see it. I never had someone to protect me, not until Dante—for a few days at least—and little girls need protecting. I’m glad she’ll have her father because if I think about what could happen to a little girl like Angelique at the hands of a Felix Pérez or Ivan Petrov, it twists my stomach.
Jericho stands, looks at me and my full plate. I guess he thought he’d feed us both a snack.
“You didn’t eat.”
“I’m not hungry,” I say, standing too.
He nods, bends to kiss Angelique on top of her head and tells her he’ll be back in a few minutes. Then he shifts his gaze to me.
“Mara?” he gestures to the stairs, and I walk ahead of him, unsure what to expect. “End of the hall. Last door,” he says once we’re on the first floor.
I pass six other doors before getting to the one he pointed out. This one stands ajar. I push it open and enter. He follows me in.
“Is that your mother?” I ask as I take in the pretty room. Obviously, not his. Not that I expected him to take me to his bed. He’s not that type of man. I can see that much. Or maybe it’s what he wants me to think. Why he wanted me to see him with his daughter.
The room is luxurious but unremarkable. The only thing that stands out is the long black dress lying on the bed and the pair of heels on the floor. Just what I’d need for an elegant night out.
“Yes,” he says, answering my question.
I turn to face him. “She’s sick.”
He nods once.
“Do you want me to feel sorry for you? Is that why you brought me here? To see your daughter and your sick mother and decide I should sacrifice my life for them?”
He tilts his head to the side, gaze speculative. “I think you’ll do it because you know what that man is capable of.”
“You do too. Why not take him out yourself? You know where he’ll be.”
“My priority is to get my daughter out.” He shifts his gaze to the dress. “You’ll wear that dress. Everything should fit.”
“Why?”
“It’s what he wants. The car leaves in fifteen minutes.”
“Our road trip?”
“I’ll be dropping you off on the way. You’re going to an opera.”
“I don’t like the opera.”
“That’s too bad.”
A man knocks on the door then and Jericho turns to him. They talk briefly and he hands Jericho something. Jericho closes the door and we’re alone again. He walks toward me and when he shows me what he’s holding, I’m surprised.
“An upgrade, as promised,” he says.
I look from him to it as he pulls a dagger from its sheath. It’s slightly bigger than Matthaeus’s switchblade, the handle about three inches long, the fine blade itself sharp. Deadly.
He tucks it back into its holster. “You can wear it on your thigh beneath the dress. He won’t search you. He’ll assume I’ve done that.” He holds it out to me, but I don’t take it.
“Is this a trick?”
“What kind of trick would it be?”
I want to take it. I want to take it very badly, but I don’t. “I could stab you.”
“You won’t.” He sets it on the bed on top of the dress and turns to walk toward the door. “I will hand you over to Pérez once he gives me what I need.”
“What is it that you need so badly you’re willing to do this? Because if I look at you with your daughter or your mother, you don’t seem like a bad guy.”
He snorts.
I study him now. “What do you need from him?”
“Proof of who ordered the hit that killed Angelique’s mother.”
“So you can kill him?”
“So I can protect my daughter.”
“Why are you giving me a weapon?”
“If there was any other way to do this that didn’t involve handing over another innocent to that bastard, I’d do it. But I’m out of options and I will do anything I need to do to keep my daughter safe. That,” he says, gesturing to the dagger, “is so you at least have a way to defend yourself if things don’t go as I’ve planned.”
“What do you mean?”
“Felix will take you to the opera where the exchange will take place.”
“Exchange. Me.”
He nods once. “But I’ve let your lover know where you’ll be. Where the transaction will take place.”
My lover. Should I correct him? “I’m a person. Not a transaction.”
He has the grace to look away. “I know that.”
“Dante knows and he allowed it?” My heart twists.
“Not exactly, no in fact, he was adamant you wouldn’t be sacrificed.”
Relief floods through me but it doesn’t last long as I put two and two together. “So, the dagger is in case Dante doesn’t make it.”
He nods gravely. “Believe it or not, I’m sorry to do this to you,” he says, studying me. I wonder if he’s waiting for me to tell him it’s okay because it’s not. When I don’t say anything, he checks his watch. “Ten minutes.”
With that he leaves, and I turn to pick up the dagger. I take it out of its sheath and press the flat of the blade against my palm. I could kill myself. Here and now. I could put this through my heart and be done with it. But I won’t do that, and he knows it, or he wouldn’t have left me alone. When I hear Angelique’s giggle float up the stairs, I understand why he’s doing this. I understand why he will sacrifice me even if Dante won’t. I would do the same if I had a child. I have no doubt.
But instead of all that, I think about something else.
I think about what I’ll do with this dagger tonight. How I’ll bury it in Felix Pérez’s stony heart. Because monsters like him don’t deserve to live. And if I get the chance, I’ll leave one less in this world even if it costs me my life in the process.