Page 102 of Dance of Thorns

The name rips into me like a knife through flesh, slashing through vein, sinew and bone, leaving me standing in shock at the back door to the theater.

Cielo.

As inLorenzoCielo.

The Barber.

The monster who took Lark from me that night.

The mob presses in on me. I cry out, shielding myself with my arms as I try to stumble away, but there’s no escape. The crowd has somehow flanked me, blocking my way back to the theater. More screamed questions, my name, microphones, flashing cameras…surrounding me,drowningme.

“Come on!!”

I flinch when a strong arm wraps around me, yanking me tight against a muscled body. My eyes jerk to the side, my pulse spiking. I exhale when I realize it’s Val.

“Stay close!!”he roars in my ear, shoving his way through the reporters. He snarls, kicking, throwing elbows, and eventually even landing a wild punch that knocks one of the reporters down. “Get the fuck back!!” he bellows. “FUCK OFF, ALL OF YOU!! Let her the fuck?—”

An even stronger hand clamps down like iron on my other arm. I scream, whirling with a fist raised?—

Bane’s jet-black eyes clash with mine, his face taut, his mouth grim. I choke out a cry of relief as he pulls me close.

“I got her!!” he roars at Val, who releases me with a curt nod. “Make sure Evelina is okay!!”

Val flashes Bane a thumbs-up sign, then glances at me. “Get her the fuck out of here!” he yells at Bane.

Then he disappears back into the throng of reporters to find Evelina.

Bane’s big arms scoop around me, shielding me on all sides as he shoves us through the crowd.

“MS. MARCHETTI!! Have you talked to the Cielo family?!”

“Any comment about the new allegations!?”

My entire body is trembling and shaking. I cling to Bane’s chest as he half-pushes, half-carries me through the crowd, until we get to the passenger side of a sleek black vintage Mustang. He yanks the door open, but it’s suddenly slammed shut as a reporter inserts himself between us and it, making me scream.

“DOVE!!” the man yells, jamming a digital voice recorder into my face. “Do you have anything to say for your?—”

Blood explodes from the guy’s lip and the recorder flies out of his hand as he gets knocked sideways from the force of Bane’s fist.

“Get in!!” Bane roars, wrenching the door open and bundling me inside.

“Ms. Marchetti!”

“Dove!!”

“Do you have any comment?!”

“Have you retained legal counsel?!”

The door between me and the chaos is about to close when the final question slips through and drives into my heart like a knife.

“Dove! Did you really help kidnap and murder Lark Peltier?!”

The door shuts with a heavythunkthat echoes in the sudden emptiness in my chest. Bane jumps behind the wheel, gunning the engine and sending the reporters scattering as he peels out of the alley onto East 49thStreet.

I’m not even aware of the traffic honking. Of the city streaking by.

Of Bane’s hand reaching over to grip mine tightly, or of anything he’s saying.