Chapter 5 - The Bloody Ribbon
I stared down at the gun and the blood-stained ribbon resting on my wet jeans.
My lungs forgot how to pull in air.
Ethan glanced over, his eyes widening in absolute horror when he saw what I was holding.
He slammed on the brakes, pulling the car onto the shoulder of the deserted road.
"Claire, don't touch that," he said, his voice dropping to a panicked whisper.
"Where did you get this?" I asked, my voice trembling so hard I could barely form the words.
"That ribbon was in the car with me the night of the crash."
Ethan reached out slowly, taking the weapon and the silk fabric from my lap.
"Someone broke into my apartment this morning," he confessed, running a hand through his damp hair.
"They left this on my kitchen counter as a warning."
"A warning for what?" I pressed, feeling a cold sweat break out on my neck.
"A warning to stay away from the tournament, and to stay away from you," he admitted.
"Julian Vance knows I've been looking for you for months."
I felt a sharp sting of betrayal cut through my fear.
"Months?" I repeated, narrowing my eyes at him.
"You acted like tonight was a coincidence."
"You acted like my humiliation with the champagne glass was just an accident."
Ethan looked away, his jaw clenching under the neon glow of a passing streetlamp.
"The spilled champagne wasn't an accident," he confessed softly.
"I paid that guest to bump into you."
"I needed my father to notice you, to trigger his ego so he would challenge you to dance."
"It was the only way to prove to him that you still had the skill to compete."
I slapped him.
The sharp crack of my palm against his cheek echoed loudly in the small car.
"You used me," I hissed, angry tears stinging my eyes.
"You orchestrated the worst humiliation of my life just to test me like a racehorse!"
Ethan didn't rub his cheek.
He looked at me with an intensity that made my breath catch.
"I did it to save your life, Claire," he shot back, leaning closer.
"Julian Vance's men found out you were living in Chicago two days ago."
"If I didn't put you in the public spotlight tonight, surrounded by five hundred witnesses, they would have quietly murdered you in your sleep."
"Making you visible was the only way to keep you alive."
I stared at him, the horrifying logic of his actions sinking in.
"They are still going to kill us," I whispered, the fight draining out of me.
"Not if we win," Ethan promised, his hand gently touching my cheek.
"I have a secure studio on the outskirts of the city."
"We start training tonight."
He pulled the car back onto the road, driving deep into the industrial district.
We arrived at a massive, abandoned warehouse surrounded by electric fencing.
Ethan punched a code into the heavy steel doors, and they ground open.
The inside was completely renovated into a state-of-the-art ballroom studio.
But as the overhead lights flickered on, Ethan and I both froze in our tracks.
Standing in the center of the pristine wooden floor was Luis, the teenage busboy from the gala.
His face was bruised purple, his lip was split, and his hands were zip-tied behind his back.
Standing behind him, holding a terrifyingly sharp hunting knife to the boy's throat, was my old dance partner, Daniel.
May you like
"Hello, Claire," Daniel smiled.
"Miss me?"
