Page 28

KONSTANTIN

K atarina was quietly sobbing by the time the curtains fell. Mikhail rushed through the side wings, all but throwing himself on the floor to hug his twin.

I crouched in front of her, trying my best not to hurt her as I took off her shoes. She howled in agony, clutching Mikhail’s arm as tears streamed down her face.

In the distance, I could hear my parents argue with her dance teacher and Dean Taylor who both tried to pacify them.

Anger like I rarely experienced coursed through my veins when I saw the state of her bandaged feet. Blood everywhere.

Glass. Someone fucking filled her shoes with it.

And it sliced right through the gap between her toes—it was a carnage.

My eyes fell on Mikhail who stared silently, almost stoically, at our sister’s foot in my hand.

I knew right then that he would stop at nothing to make whoever did that to her pay.

And I would be right there alongside him.