Page 18 of Pas de Trois
Chapter 5
Ezra
Nikolai’s pulse is fading. I could feel it pulsing when I gripped his hand, but now it’s unrecognizable. With my free hand, I press two fingers to his wrist. I think I feel something there, but it’s faint and slow.
I glance up at Anya, who is reading the letter, and though I don’t know what it says, her emotions are precisely etched into her expression. One of her hands rises from the crumpled letter and she covers her mouth, fresh tears spilling from her wide blue eyes.
Nikolai gasps, stealing attention from both of us. His gray eyes widen for a moment, flicking to look at me, then at her. He holds her gaze and I watch her closely. More emotions than I can name dance across her glassy eyes. I can’t look away from her. This hurt and pain and shock she’s feeling sits like a heavy weight in my stomach. It’s a weight that begs me to carry it so she doesn’t have to. But whatever it is she’s feeling in this moment…it belongs to her.
Her emotion, her burden, her weight.
Her hand falls heavily on his chest, almost as though she wants to hit him but stops herself at the last possible second. His head slowly rolls toward her and I look at him expectantly, waiting for his final words.
But they never come.
The light has gone from his eyes.
No breath or sound comes.
His pulse is gone.
I look at Anya and have the misfortune of having to watch as she comes to the realization that his heart is no longer beating
“Nikolai,” she whispers, looking at him expectantly. She lifts her hand and lets it fall on his chest. “Nikolai?”
I shake my head, though she doesn’t look at me. “I think he’s—”
“Don’t say it!” she shouts at me.
Her words hit me with such force that it pushes me backward as they echo through the studio. I sit on my heels, letting go of his hand and setting it on the floor by his side.
Anya bends over him, putting her hands on his cheeks. She smacks her right hand against his cheek, but he doesn’t flinch.
He doesn’t blink.
He doesn’t breathe.
He doesn’t move.
My blue-eyed girl’s face is a dreadful mixture of all the worst emotions she could ever possibly express. I rub my palm over my chest, recognizing how my heart aches to see anything but happiness on her face.
This shouldn’t be a sad moment…but it is.
She smacks his face again. “Don’t you dare.” Her voice is low, deep, full of fury and pain. “Look at me!” she screams and I watch helplessly as she slips into emotional overload, climbing on top of him, straddling his waist with her knees on either side. “Look at me!”
She lets go of his cheeks and his head falls limply to the side. She pounds a fist against his chest and waits.
She pounds again.
She slaps his cheek.
Then again.
She screams and beats on his chest with both fists, over and over. “I hate you! I detest you! You ruined me! You ruined my life!”
I rub my palms over my thighs, watching her with wide eyes. I don’t really know what to do here; whether I should stop her or let her blaze in the fire of her emotions and wait for her to burn out on her own.
She grabs his face again and leans down over him, her voice shifting from anger to softness with one jarring beat.
