sore on his left paw, still festering despite the salve she’d applied every morning, afternoon and evening for the past few weeks.
“Finally, the day I told you about has arrived,” she said in pristine English. As an emigrant from New Lithuania, she’d had to steadily whittle away at her accent to fit the new identity her father had bought for her, to save her from being deported. Jecis had been her tutor, and his reward-and-punishment system had ensured quick success.
One Day mewled, peeked out, and tried to nudge her hand.
“Go, baby. Go.”
Another nudge from him.
“Go on, now. Jecis wants to hurt you, but I will not let him.”
One Day lumbered to the ground, but rather than sprinting to freedom, he rubbed against her leg, causing her to stumble forward and drop the keys a second time. He wanted to be brushed, she knew. He loved when she cleaned and groomed him, his purrs of approval so rich and deep they always settled over her like warm honey.
Tears burned the backs of her eyes, clouding her vision. “You will run now. Please.”
How many times had she promised her precious lion freedom? One day we will escape together. One day I will grow tall and you will grow strong, and we will protect each other. Yes, one day. She’d said the words so many times they’d finally become a name.
He deserved a chance to run and play and do whatever else he desired.
“Go.”
“Vika!” Her father’s voice boomed closer . . . so close his booted footsteps echoed in the background.
She shoved One Day toward the line of trees in the distance. She wouldn’t be able to save the others, she realized with a flood of sorrow, but she could save her precious lion. She had to save him. “I said go!”
He resisted, again rubbing at her leg.
A shocked gasp sounded a few feet away. “You did it,” her father said. “You actually did it. You betrayed me. Me! After everything I’ve done for you.”
He had arrived.
Her heart thundered in her chest as her gaze found him in the darkness. He was tall, with wide shoulders and a barrel chest. Not necessarily bad things—until a temper as hot as the inner core of the earth got the better of him. Fear she’d managed to ignore now consumed her. Suddenly her feet felt as heavy as thousand-pound boulders, and she couldn’t force herself to move.
She rarely disobeyed this man. His punishments were too severe. “I . . . I . . .”
Jecis stomped to her, grabbed her arms in a painful vise grip, and shook her. “I buy you the best clothes, the best food, and gift you with the greatest treasures, and yet you dare defy me?”
One Day roared with long-suppressed rage, and slowly stalked around them. But he didn’t attack. He couldn’t. Jecis used Vika as a shield, always ensuring she blocked the way. The rest of the animals banged against the bars of their cages.
“Atsiprašau,” Vika managed to choke out.
Jecis glared down at her through eyes the color of violetiniai, the same as hers. She only prayed her own were not laced with such cold, hard cruelty. “I have told you only to speak English. Or do you speak the mother tongue hoping someone will realize you are foreign and try to take you away from me?”
“I—I am sorry,” she translated with a tremor.
“Not yet, but you will be.” He released her—only to backhand her.
She tumbled to the ground. Blood filled her mouth, a copper tang coating her tongue, and pain exploded through her head.
One Day jumped toward her father, but, sick as the lion was, he was sluggish, and Jecis easily dodged the creature, grabbing Vika and jerking her upright.
The lion crouched, ready to initiate another attack, clearly desperate to rip his enemy in half.
“I love you more than life itself, Vika, but that love will not save you from my wrath.”
When has it ever? she wanted to scream. Wisely, she remained quiet.
Another roar tore through the air.
“You think to threaten me, eh, lion? To hurt me?” Jecis withdrew a gun from the waist of his pants and stretched out his arm. “The man who paid for your care, all these many years?”
“No!” Vika shrieked, trying to tug that arm down but making no progress. “Please, no. Do not do this. Please,” she repeated, nearing hysteria.
“Before, I would have been merciful, would have done this without causing any pain. Now . . .”
“No!”
One Day couldn’t contain his aggression any longer