Page 94 of Vicious Impulses (The Capo and Ballerina)
The main men who have stayed with me and not gone off to clear other parts of the building congregate outside the double doors. Matteo is at the front, waiting for my go ahead. I stride forward wearing a mask I’ve donned many times—cold, bone-chilling fury that won’t go away ’til my lust for blood and violence has been sated.
I give my nod of approval. “We’re going in.”
Matteo and another guy fling open the double doors and we spill into the theater with our weapons drawn. I enter last, coming down the center of my group of men.
Our hunch was correct. The rest of the theater might be empty, but this room couldn’t be more opposite. Nero’s men stand in a dutiful line on the far side of the theater. Nero himself is on stage. Nevaeh is an arm’s length away.
He grins at the sight of us, cocks his hammer, and points his gun at Nevaeh’s head. “Not so fast, Caelian. Take another step, and this gets real messy, real fast.”
THIRTY
Nevaeh
At Nero’scommand to dance, the soundtrack to Ignazio’s last award-winning ballet,Lupi Nella Notte,begins playing. Familiar music I haven’t danced to since my serious ankle injury last year.
I trust my instincts and let go. Muscle memory takes control. My body flows in tune with each note of the music, within seconds performing like I’m alone on the stage. Nero’s watchful gaze no longer exists.
No one else does except for the beautiful piece of art I execute with my body.
Rising en pointe on my left leg, my right stretches in and then out. My arms arc in front of me. I’m a bird about to take flight as the music swells. Then I’m launching into a series of coupé turns. One after another I spin and spin.
I spin until I’m a blur to the naked eye. The music transitions into softer, more whimsical notes, taking me with them. I travel with the sound, slipping into fast footwork across the stage.
Ignazio, Nero, even Caelian have often compared my movements to walking on clouds.
Now is no different as I circle the stage like I’m a musical note. I frolic and leap, my arms sweeping, and I forget the rest of the world exists. Worry, heartbreak, pain… none of it can hurt me in the moment I’ve given into my body’s love of dance.
The solo ends before I’m ready for it to. My pointe shoes slide across the shiny wood flooring and my arms rise above my head in perfect arc position. The last note plates and I take in my first deep breath in minutes.
The trance I’ve slipped in vanishes and reality returns. I’m on the stage at the theater having just performed a solo for Nero.
His lone applause echoes throughout the cavernous theater. I go still in the center of the stage, uncertain what he expects from me next. His eyes gleam as he thumps his hands together over and over again. The corner of his lip lifts into a grin.
But it’s not a grin that means anything good for me. It’s cruel and mocking, showing how much pleasure it brings him to have my fate in his hands.
Gradually, his applause dies out. He lets the silence press down on the atmosphere in the theater as if reveling in the discomfort it causes. I shift my balance from my right foot to my left, fighting off the urge to fidget or do anything else that would reveal my nerves.
Out of the corner of my eye, I can feel Ignazio watching from the side of the stage. He’s gripping the curtain for support, likely as on edge as I am. If he’s truly on my side—helping my family survive Nero and the Vorones—then his life is on the line too.
I swallow with difficulty. “Is that all?”
“All?” Nero cracks out a laugh, shaking his head from side to side. “Why would you think that’s all? We’re just getting started. I’ve given the situation a lot of thought. It’s become amusing when I think about how you’ve been right under my nose this whole time. Some little ballerina with the secret we’ve all been looking for.”
“I have no secrets—”
“No need to lie,” he interrupts with another cruel laugh. “That’s the surefire way to piss me off and end things a lot sooner for you. I know all about what you’ve been up to. It’s how your treacherous father has remained alive as long as he has—I couldn’t kill him if I didn’t have the key.”
“There is no key. I don’t have it.”
The grin drops off Nero’s face. “Didn’t I just tell you I don’t appreciate being lied to? Your father himself told me you had it. So no use lying, dollface. If you cooperate, I just might keep you alive for a while. I’ve had plenty of ballerinas from the company, but there’s something special about you.”
I ease a step back despite the fact that I’m on stage and he’s yards away in the audience. It still feels too close. His presence is suffocating.
“I’m married.”
Nero barks out his loudest laugh yet. It goes on for several seconds ’til tears mist his eyes and he’s glancing around at the men he’s brought with him. A few of them chuckle along or split their lips in cruel grins.
Agitation bites at me and I snap at them. “I am! I’m married to Caelian Ziccardi, and if you’re not going to let me go, then just do it. Kill me—because I’llnevergo with you.”