“Put the pugio to your throat,” Don said, and both Laurel and I froze.
“What?” she whispered.
“Show me how obedient you are. Show me why I should love you more than anyone.”
I watched the words snake inside her, flip a switch—and to my horror, Laurel tipped the black blade to her throat.
“Stop,” I cried.
“Drop the ax,” Don said to me, “or she’ll slit her throat.”
“She would never.” I was so close to the staircase, to escape. I edged forward.
“Do it, Laurel,” Don urged, and she drew the knife against her skin.
“No!” I threw the ax to the floor, where it clattered. For all I’d witnessed, I’d never imagined Don had this kind of power.
“Good.” His eyes flicked from the ax to me. “Now get on your knees.”
I looked at Laurel. Terror and sadness radiated from her, but I couldn’t tell who she was scared for, what she was mourning. I could’ve sworn there was an apology in her eyes, but the truth was, I couldn’t read her. Not after all this time.
I dropped to my knees on the cold basement floor.
Don stepped closer, until we formed a triangle. “My first girls,” he murmured. The music cut out above us, and a deep voice rang out, the voice of a triumphant politician.
“We’re not yours,” I said and spit on his shoes. “Never.”
He looked at his feet for a moment, then up at me. His jaw tightened; I could see his fury, his outrage at being denied. He turned to Laurel. “Kill yourself.”
“Wait.” I lurched, almost toppling. “I’m on my knees.”
But Don wasn’t looking at me anymore. He was staring at Laurel, who was trembling, paler than ever. “You told me I was what gave your life meaning, didn’t you?”
She nodded, a tear falling down her cheek. She was too vulnerable, too indoctrinated. I could see her thoughts twisting.
“You were a pathetic thing when we met. The runt of the litter. You were your friends’ pet.”
“Don’t listen to him,” I said. “None of that’s true.”
But Laurel’s tears came faster now. There was an acceptance in her eyes that gutted me.
Don’s voice deepened, and she leaned closer. “All these years, you’ve let me push you, test your limits. You’ve trusted me, and I’ve grown you, made you feel things you never would’ve without me. I made you a good woman. You owe me.”
“He’s lying,” I said. “You were already good. Remember our life before him? You had your plays, we went to concerts and parties and sled in the snow. We were happy.”
“But you killed Rachel. With the very dagger you’re holding.” Don shook his head. “If anyone finds out, what do you think’s going to happen? Not every cop is our friend. They’ll lock you up and throw away the key. Your poor mom will watch your trial. The woman will probably drop dead from shock. Then both your parents’ deaths will be on your hands.”
“Don killed Rachel,” I said. “It was him doing it through you, pulling your strings. Everyone will see that.”
But Laurel was sobbing now.
I staggered to my feet, but Don blocked me. “Be strong,” he urged Laurel. “Be my best girl. Then no one will ever top you.”
“Laurel, please.” My plea echoed through the room. Her head jerked, and our eyes locked. “Drop the knife. We can leave together, go somewhere safe. No one will blame you for anything.” I tried to smile, but my lips wouldn’t obey. “We’ll tell them your story. Once they hear it, they’ll understand.”