Page 113 of Forbidden Fate

His face hovers inches from mine, blood on his teeth, eyes dark with hate. “You just needed the right girl to make you stupid.”

Robin.

Her name slices through the red.

She’s still inside. Hiding.

Still alive.

The thought gives me the strength I need.

I slam my knee upward into Zabala’s ribs. He grunts but doesn’t release me. I do it again, harder, catching him lower. This time, his grip loosens.

I wrench my head sideways and suck in air, grappling for something, anything.

My hand finds something just inside the doorway.

Not the gun.

A broken piece of tile? No.

Holy shit. It’s a knife!

The small blade Señora V keeps hidden beneath the front table.

The table near the door had a loose underside. It’s one of many places Señora V kept weapons for use in moments like these. Typically they’re for when the girls’ clients get unruly. When I was a boy, she showed me where some of them were, not because she wanted me to use them, but because she wanted me to know that women who live among dangerous men learn where to hide things they might someday need. She reminded me of that when I first brought Robin here.

Even from the grave, she’s still offering me assistance.

The knife must have dislodged when Señora fell.

I close my fingers around the handle.

Zabala sees it too late. He lunges for my wrist.

I turn with him, using his momentum, and drive the blade upward.

Into his throat.

A gurgling sound leaves him that I’ll hear for the rest of my life.

His eyes go wide.

His hands fly to his neck, but the knife is already buried deep. Blood pulses between his fingers.

I shove him off me.

He collapses onto his side, choking.

I stagger backward on my hands, chest heaving, throat burning, jaw throbbing.

Zabala reaches for me.

Or maybe for the gun.

Or maybe for nothing at all.

His legs kick once. Twice.