There’s a series of sharp cracks against the door. Goff glances at the door, then back at me, smiling wider than ever. “Don’t make me out to be such a bad guy,” Goff says. “She’s only one girl, no one will even notice she’s gone.”
“You stupid, stupid man!” I shout, taking a step forward even as there’s a massive THUD! behind me.
“Not another step or I’ll—”
But I’m not listening, not to the pathetic icin’ King who’s got my sister, nor to the incessant pounding at my back. Not anymore. “She’s a child,” I say. “Someone’s daughter, someone’s sister. My sister. You didn’t think anyone would notice? You’re insane.”
I step forward, spurred on by another massive THUD!
“Not one more step, kid,” Goff warns.
I hesitate, not because I’m scared of the king, but because it’s still my sister he’s got, still Jolie, biting at her lip and trying not to cry.
“Dazz?” she says, her question full of a thousand other questions, none of which I can answer without lying.
Men’s voices pummel the door, even as a series of vicious pounds erupt behind me.
THUD, THUD, THUD, THUD!
I glance back at the door. The bar is fully bent now, the crack in the door widening with each hammer of the battering ram. “It’s okay, Joles, everything’s okay,” I say, wondering how it will be, how I can speak something I don’t believe myself.
Now is the moment. My moment. My one chance to make up for everything, for all the mistakes, for all the pain and hurt and anguish of the last few days, weeks, months, years.
I step forward and Goff lifts the knife from Jolie’s throat, pulling it back in a slashing motion, as if he wants to shove it all the way through her neck, not content to simply slit her throat.
I have no choice but to act.
Chapter Thirty-Two
This is it. This is it. My final failure, the ultimate mistake that will leave my family broken into a million pieces, so many that my drugged-out mother and me will never be able to pick them all up, fit them back together again.
I charge forward, shouting something at the top of my lungs, something familiar, something powerful—a name—
Jolieeeeee!
—feeling time and distance and life slowing down, stopping, freezing more solidly than the ice-coated peaks of the mountain—
Jolieeeee!
—urging my muscles to go, go, go, faster, faster—
Jolieeeee!
—watching with dread as the knife starts its downward arc, gleaming brighter than the eyes of the wicked, wicked man wielding it—
THUD!!!!
—hearing the loudest pound on the door yet, but knowing it doesn’t matter, not now, not ever, prepared to face death if I don’t save her.
No time, no time, no freezin’ time, the knife right there, right there, and she’ll be, she’ll be…
Two small hands flash up, grab at the king’s arm, hold it off, barely, barely, but it’s still moving as Goff’s look of surprise changes back to determination, but I’m still running, getting closer, even as the knife gets closer, but he’s winning the battle—the king is winning the battle—pushing the knife to within inches of my sister’s fragile skin, and then, and then—
—Jolie bites him, sinks her little teeth into the flesh of his arm and he cries out, yowls so loudly it momentarily drowns out the pounding on the door.
But he doesn’t.
He doesn’t drop the knife.
I’m close now, close enough to
(stop him.)
Close enough to
(save her.)
The thoughts are there but I can’t think them with the full extent of my mind, just let them slip around the edges, not letting myself believe that we could, that we could
(win.)
I swing hard, putting everything I have left into the punch, aimed well over Jolie’s head, at his face, at the malicious eyes of the demon who holds her, even now still trying to stab her, and—
My fist connects, crushing Goff’s temple, just on the edge of his eye, snapping his head to the side and back.
He releases Jolie, falls away, his arm stabbing wildly at the air behind her as he crumples to the stone floor.
Jolie’s left standing there, tears in her eyes, a stream of blood running down her neck.
“Dazz?” she says.
There’s something in her eyes—
“Dazz?” she says again.
Something’s not right—
“Dazz?” she says, once more, and I step toward her, ready to take her in my arms, to tell her everything really is okay, that I’m here, that the king won’t hurt her anymore, that—
She falls to her knees, her head slumping forward, right into my arms as I dive down to catch her, to stop her from hitting the floor.