I turn but I’m too slow. Too weighted down by pounds and pounds of silk and velvet. The pain in my side is sharp and immediate. It’s like being punched but so much worse. Dark eyes meet mine as the shorter man pulls his blade free from my side. My hand flies up to touch the wound. Even through the gloves, I can feel the wet, sticky sensation of my own blood.

“Got you,” he says, right in my face, breath acrid and powerful.

“No,” I say. “You don’t.”

I grab him by the lapels and smash my skull into his.

Or more specifically, my skull into the bridge of his nose.

There are plenty of things I shouldn’t have done. But what he shouldn’t have done is taken a mere stab wound as a victory.

Bone and cartilage crack on impact. He goes limp immediately, sagging out of my hands and onto the floor.

The angle was just right to send a shard of cartilage into his brain. Or so I hope. I don’t stick around to find out. I turn, ready to charge down the stairs but I’m stopped by someone in the doorway.

My knife is coming up before I see that it is not just someone in the doorway. It is two someones.

Ana looks at me, one arm looped around a very injured Rosalita’s waist, the other holding the girl’s wrist over her own shoulder.

“Jesus Christ, Kiki.” She hoists Rosalita higher as the other girl sags with a pained groan. “Took you long enough.”

CHAPTER 32

Ana

Kiki handles the logistics of our departure from Cristobal’s estate. She slips a generous amount of coin to one of the stable boys to bring a carriage around—specifically not Sebastian’s—after sending its driver off on a false errand. She tosses in an extra coin for the boy’s silence. Some poor sod is going to find himself without a ride home, but that is no concern of mine. I follow behind, emerging only when the stable boy has cleared off, praying Rosalita stays conscious long enough to get to someone who can help. With every slow, pained step, her weight sags against me more and more.

It takes both of us to bundle her into the carriage. She whimpers as we maneuver her bruised limbs onto the bench. At least it has cushions. We cannot take her home, that much is certain. The Sonza villa is the first place anyone would look for us. So we take her to the next best spot: Santiago’s. He may always have the best gossip but the man knows how to keep his mouth shut when it really counts.

“You stay with Rosalita.” Kiki steps through the carriage’s small door, her skirts barely fitting through the opening. “I’ll drive.”