Last Kiss Goodnight

Leave, Vika. Leave now, X beseeched. Run to Solo.

Oh, sweet mercy. She wanted to, she really did, but she had to contain this situation first. If her father ever saw this, Solo would be killed. “D-don’t show him, Matas. Please.”

His fingers closed over the device, and the screen vanished. “I hid a camera in the zoo a while back. I’ve been watching you, and I know you’ve been giving the animals treats they were never meant to have. Treats your father paid for. I always let that slide, but this . . . no. I can’t.”

Her knees shook, threatening to buckle. “I’ll run away,” she threatened. “If you tell him, I’ll leave. I’ll help the authorities find the circus and shut it down, and you’ll end up without a job.”

Vika, please. Listen to me. Never try to bargain with evil.

“You do not threaten me,” Matas growled—just before he backhanded her.

Her head whipped to the side, her cheek stinging. The taste of blood coated her tongue. Another beating, and from a male who repulsed her? No. No! She wouldn’t let that happen.

She grabbed her blade and struck, slamming the tip as deep into Matas’s side as possible. Maybe he roared, maybe he didn’t, but he did stumble away from her. And as he stood there panting and gaping at her, she looked down at the crimson-soaked blade. Horror washed through her, her blood no longer cold but frigid, little ice crystals making her feel heavy, achy.

She’d just stabbed someone. She’d just hurt someone in the worst possible way. Maybe she’d even killed him. Yes, she’d done it to protect herself, but it was still something her father would have done.

I can’t be like him. I just can’t.

Oh, Vika, X said sadly. I’m sorry.

“You’re going to pay for that.” Scowling, Matas thundered toward her, closing the distance before she could back away. He slammed his meaty fist into the side of her head, knocking her to the ground.

Another impact, her brain rattling against her skull.

He punched her a second time. And just like that, it was lights out for Vika.

Sixteen

When you pass through the waters, I will be with you. And through the rivers, they will not overflow you.

—ISAIAH 43:2

SOLO HEARD THE TWO men arguing before he saw them, his ears twitching as he listened. He’d expected X, who had popped in a few minutes ago to cryptically say, “Control yourself, for she has need of your aid, not your temper,” before vanishing. But no, this wasn’t X.

“I’ll kill you, Matas.”

He recognized the harshness of the voice, knew it belonged to Jecis.

“I told you I was sorry.”

“That doesn’t make it better!”

“I showed you the video. You know what she did.”

“And it’s a problem, but it’s my problem. You should have come to me. Should have let me handle it. Now—” A wild roar of rage Solo had heard only once before—from himself, the day he’d discovered his parents’ decomposed bodies. “You were to get her pregnant, make her want to stay, give her something to do. The look in her eyes lately, just like before, when she—but you ruined everything!”

Matas was to impregnate . . . Vika? Despite the fact that she disliked the brute?

“I gave you a gift,” Jecis continued shakily, “my most treasured possession, and you broke it. I should exile you from my circus.”

“She stabbed me, and I reacted,” Matas said, his own voice shaky. “It will never happen again. Like I said, I’m sorry.”

“Not accepted! You nearly killed her with those blows.”

“Let me take care of her. I’ll make her better with my magic.”

Her. She. They had better not be discussing Vika.

“You’re not touching her again. If any other man had put me in this situation . . . if any other man had hurt my baby like this . . .”

His baby. They were discussing Vika. Solo didn’t hear the rest of the conversation. He was on his feet and squeezing the bars a second later, dread barraging him, right along with fury and desperation . . . so much desperation . . . But he couldn’t act on a single emotion, not with the cuffs shooting debilitating drugs into his system.

What had been done to her? How badly had she suffered? Would she survive?

Questions, questions, so many questions formed, but one fact crystallized: He would repay the one responsible. Not because he’d decided to use Vika to escape. Not because he’d realized she was his only hope. But because. Just because.

He was quite certain vengeance would finally feel good.

“Remain calm. Remember what I told you. She needs tenderness right now,” X said, popping in and looking slightly weaker than before, his skin not quite as bright.

“Help her,” he demanded.

“I tried, but I cannot help someone who doesn’t want to be helped. No one can.”

Finally Jecis and Matas stomped around a corner, entering his line of sight. Both men were scowling. Jecis cradled Vika in his arms. Vika, who looked like a broken doll.

Solo’s knees almost gave out. Pale hair cascaded around her in tangled hunks. One arm hung limply. The other was smashed against Jecis’s chest. Her face was smashed against his chest, as well, hiding any damage there.

The fury at last detonated, and he uttered a roar that rivaled Jecis’s. Both men tripped over their own feet.

“Calm.” X said. “You must stay calm.”

The males were coming closer and closer to Solo’s cage, so close their evil brushed against his skin. His heart hammered as though trying to drill a nail into one of his ribs. He’d never been one to enjoy his job, to take delight in snuffing out life, but he would have enjoyed and delighted this time.

“Calm.”

It should have been easy for him. In his line of work, he’d seen the effects of domestic abuse a thousand times before, and had thought himself too hardened to ever care. He’d always told himself the people who stayed in that type of situation deserved what they got. Now, having seen the bruises on Vika, learning she was deaf, knowing she had been raised in such an insular world, suspecting she had no idea there was something better out there . . .

But even if she had known, she would not have left the circus. He remembered what she’d said. You would also sentence the other captives to death.

She wanted them freed. She wanted them safe. Even at a terrible cost to herself.

Suddenly a puzzle piece slid into place, and a clear picture of her character began to form. She cared for her charges with all of her heart. Not just to assuage a guilty conscience, but because she placed others before herself. She stayed here, accepting her father’s abuse, Matas’s abuse, even the otherworlders’ abuse, to save those under her supervision. And yes, there were probably other reasons, maybe even a thousand more, but the otherworlders were a big one, he was sure.

Even more miraculous, she understood why the otherworlders acted as they did and didn’t hold a grudge. How could she, and still be willing to break the rules to distribute cookies and chocolates?

What kind of person could do that?

An answer immediately formed. The kind his mother would have loved.

A pang erupted in the center of his chest, deep and burning, probably leaving a scar. One he welcomed.