Page 20 of Dance of Thorns

I stop mid-turn, glancing back at my father. His brows are furrowed, his mouth tight.

“Youarestill seeing Dr. Turov, right?”

“Already told you, Dad,” I nod. “I am. And I’m all good.”

Lies.

Lies lies motherfucking lies.

I turn again to head for the door.

“Why the Empire State Building?”

My shoulders tense as I pause.

“What were you both doing up there?” Dad asks quietly, like he’s afraid of the answer.

Honestly, he should be. But I’m not going to tell him the truth.

“Romantic views, dad,” I smile at him. “Really romantic views.”

6

DOVE

Thatmotherfucker.

My face is white as I stare at the celebrity gossip show on TV, playing that fucking clip of Bane and I locked in what looks like a passionate kiss yetagain.

I knew he was dangerous. I knew he was and cold, and ruthless, and possibly insane.

But JesusChrist.What happened last night on that roof was some next level psycho shit.

All of that—all of it—just to fuck me over. To lure me in and have me drop my guard, which Ineverdo except when it comes to Lark. And he got me onthatfucking night of all nights.

He wasn’t up there to jump. He’s not depressed and tired of the world, of going through the motions. He’s not haunted by survivor guilt, or the demons of addiction.

He was just there becauseIwas, for all the above reasons.

And now he’s nailing me to the fucking wall.

The video and pictures of us areeverywhere. We’re a trending meme, for fuck’s sake. There’s even a clip of it on TikTok set to that goddamn Celine Dion song fromSleepless in Seattle, which for some reason pisses me off even more than the memes, becausefuckthat stupid movie, and fuck that TikTok video, and fuck theone point two MILLIONassholes who’ve watched it already.

I’ve had my phone off all day to avoid the furtive, prodding texts from the girls at ballet. My...friends, I guess you could call them? I’m not really capable of friends, or of letting people in.

Brooklyn gets the closest. But even she doesn’t truly realize how many walls I still have up between us. She doesn’t know that two nights ago, I was flushing a torn-up suicide note down the toilet after barelynotjumping.

Because of Bane.

“Should have fucking jumped, little bird.”

That mother. Fucking. Fuckhead.

I’m going to kill him.

“Dove…honey…” My dad sighs heavily, leaning back in his office chair. He’ssmiling.

“Absolutely not.”