Do Me a Favor

She’s afraid of him.

My theory is confirmed.

The things she said to me back in the warehouse return in echoing snippets.

Your brother left me here with you against my will, Smith. Think about it.

He asked you to do him a favor.

I remember Baker on the witness stand at my trial, claiming he couldn’t remember exactly what happened that day at the lake. How the two girls cowered when he walked into the courtroom. Things I’ve blocked from my memory. Or remembrances that were blurred by all the copious medication that came afterward. But I remember now.

He made those girls lie. Didn’t he? He sacrificed me and skated away.

Still, the anger that realization causes inside of me doesn’t even come close to my outrage on Posy’s behalf. He’s been bad to her. Bad to my ballerina.

Acid begins to boil in my middle. My head. Hotter and hotter. Out of control.

With a strangled growl, I renew my struggle with the security guards and knock three of them to the ground, throwing a right hook at a fourth and laying him down cold. There are too many of them, though, and one of them hits me with a taser, rendering my legs temporarily useless. Goddammit. The helplessness is impossible to bear. Get to her. Get to her.

She makes everything better.

My arms won’t work, though, and they are trying to snap handcuffs around my wrists.

In horror, I watch as Baker climbs on to the stage and storms toward Posy, hands clenched into fists at his sides. No. No, please. Not when I’m restrained and can do nothing—

One by one, the dancers step in front of her.

They form a wall between Baker and Posy, arms crossed over their chests.

“Don’t ever call her a tramp again,” one of them says.

“You’re done here,” says another. “We’re finished watching you bully her. And lie about us to manipulate her. Keep her isolated.”

One of the ballerinas actually picks up a prop and throws it at my brother.

Posy looks stunned.

It’s in that moment that I realize I’ve been very wrong about women. I’ve been lied to and misinformed and instead of finding out the truth for myself, I steeped myself in those falsehoods. Posy is the only female I could ever love, but right now, I would take a bullet for each of the dancers standing between danger and my ballerina.

Baker is not finished with his tirade. No, his face is mottled with rage and half of the audience is still there to witness it.

“My brother was supposed to cure you, but you came back an even bigger piece of trash than before!” he shouts at her.

Out of pure will, I make my limbs work, lunging to my feet. Toward the stage.

He will die for speaking to Posy that way.

“Women can’t be cured, can they?” He’s looking at me now, his teeth pulled back, his evil on full display. Sensing what’s coming, my skin turns clammy. “That’s why they need to be managed. You remember the girls from the lake, don’t you, Smith? Of course you do. Their accusations put you in the institution. Sorry about that. I threatened to kill those bitches in their sleep unless they corroborated my story.” He smirks. “I needed a sponsorship from their fathers to get into the fraternity I wanted in the fall. The old bastards were all too willing to write it for me once I painted a new picture for them. One where I saved the lives of their daughters from my violent brother. If only I’d gotten there sooner, I could have saved their virtue, too.” His laughter makes my stomach roil. “By the end of my tearful story, they were the ones who felt guilty. Honestly, one of my finest achievements. Sorry you had to be a casualty.”

It’s true, then.

His manipulation and abuse sent me to live in a locked ward. Then a warehouse, to hide from the light of day. He’s stolen years away from me.

Now he’s stolen Posy?

No. Over my head body.

When I surge forward with a rafter-shaking roar, Baker’s face turns white. The guards hit me with another blast from the taser, but it doesn’t have any effect this time. There is a twinge of pain and I push through. Moving at a fast clip until I’m running. Going straight for his throat.