Page 72 of Blood Code

Fire still surged through her bones. Good.

They hadn’t completely broken her yet.

I ran a hand up her waist, playing the part of another one of her nightmares. My skin crawled, and I fucking hated myself for it.

But I had to sell this act.

Patrick, like the good little dog he was, leaned against the back wall, watching.

I gritted my teeth and flashed a bright, horrifying smile. I placed the blade to her jaw, then slid it up to her lips, and finally between them.

Carefully. Very, very carefully, propping them open. I didn’t want to hurt her.

Leaning closer, I pressed my lips to her earlobe, keeping up the seductive act.

In the lowest voice I could manage, I whispered, “Keep a straight face. Don’t react to anything I say. If you understand, let out a fake whimper like I just said something horrible to you.”

She complied.

“Great. I’m here to rescue you, but I need to make it convincing before I do.” I ran my hand through her hair. “I’m going to throw knives at the board to cut your ropes. Once you’re free, stay where you are and pretend you’re still tied up. Whimper again if you understand.”

She did.

“I’m going to do something that’ll bring all the guards running. When they get here, keep pretending you’re tied to the board.”

Another whimper.

“Great. I’m going to start, and it’s going to look like I suck. Just know I have perfect aim. Perfect…”

Stepping back, I let a giggle slip through my painted red lips. “Oh my god, this is so fun!” I exclaimed for the cameras.

I clapped again, the knife balanced precariously between my fingers. It seemed very reckless. At least, that was how I wanted it to look. Skipping to the back of the room, I laughed maniacally, whirled around, and released the knife as though I hadn’t aimed at all.

It struck the upper-left corner of the wall, well away from Neeve—Severin’s fucking fiancée.

Neeve gasped, letting out a soft squeak.

“Oops, that’s not where I wanted it to go,” I said, picking up another knife.

Hopping from one foot to the other, I threw it.

Bullseye.

I wiggled my nose; I was too damn good at this.

The blade struck the rope binding her right leg. Four more knives followed, tossed as though I hadn’t aimed at all.

Each landed exactly where I wanted it. Two went wide, and the other two struck the ropes binding her hands. Five more knives flew, some missing deliberately, others passing close enough to scare everyone watching.

The whole time, I acted like a maniacal circus doll.

One final throw severed the last rope. I picked up four more knives and approached Neeve again.

“Get ready,” I mouthed.

With Neeve at my back, I hurled a knife straight into Patrick’s throat, and blood poured from the wound like a crimson waterfall.

“Oops,” I said with a malicious smile.