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Her brave, strong, selfless Angus. Completely helpless now. And she was the one in control—a freaking PhD student who loved books and reading and speculating about theories.

Not killing.

But she had to be strong. As strong as she’d always been for David.

“Don’t forget that I’m the one with the weapon,” she said, but her voice shook.

She wasn’t fooling anyone. She didn’t believe she could really stab another human being. Based on the amusement in Euphemia’s icy cold stare, neither did she.

“Aw, lass.” Euphemia was slowly walking towards her holding Rogene in a steely gaze. “What are ye doing pointing that at me? Ye arenae capable of scaring a child, my dear. Ye keep making things easy for me.”

With her heart drumming against her rib cage, Rogene watched Euphemia take one step after another until she came to stand so close that the tip of the dagger pressed directly under the woman’s collarbone. Rogene stared at her with wide eyes, feeling her lips tremble. She could kill her now. There’d be no better opportunity.

Do it, part of her cried. What are you waiting for?

But her hands refused to move.

“Come on, Rogene,” Angus growled. “Ye can do this. Just one stab and she’ll be done.”

“Aye, Rogene,” Euphemia purred. “Kill me while I’m letting ye. ’Tis the only way ye can get the key and save this handsome man from my evil claws. Otherwise, he’s mine. And ye’re dead.”

“Do it!” Angus cried, thrashing and beating against the chains.

To hell with this!

Rogene sucked in a breath and with a roar, shoved the dagger forward.

Only to find empty air. Losing her balance, she stumbled against Euphemia’s leg and fell flat on her stomach. The dagger slid away, and Euphemia picked it up.

Rogene pushed against the floor to stand, but felt the sharp, cold edge against the back of her neck.

“This is how ye threaten someone, lass,” Euphemia said. “Ye mean it.”

She pressed on the dagger, and Rogene felt a sharp bite as the edge broke her skin.

“Get away from her,” Angus growled.

“Stand up slowly,” Euphemia said.

With her arms and legs shaking, Rogene stood up. What an idiot. She should have done it.

“Turn around,” Euphemia purred.

Rogene turned around slowly. There they were again, her eyes—pure ice. Pure cold. Pure nothing.

“I should have killed you, bitch,” Rogene spat.

The dagger was pressing directly against the artery in Rogene’s throat. She felt it pulse against the metal. Rogene clenched and unclenched her fists in helpless fury.

“Ye should have,” she said. She turned to Angus. “I want ye to see the woman ye think ye love die in front—”

Rogene grabbed Euphemia’s shoulders, pulled the woman’s body down, and kneed Euphemia right in the stomach. Euphemia doubled up with a gasp and fell onto her back.

With an angry groan, she struggled up, but Rogene sat on her stomach and grasped the handle of the dagger, working on wriggling it out of the woman’s hands. She was so strong! She was pointing and jabbing the blade at Rogene, too close to her belly. The blade was swinging dangerously, an inch or two away from Rogene, but the woman wasn’t letting it out of her grabby fingers!

Kicking her fear back into the bottom of her psyche, Rogene slammed her teeth around Euphemia’s wrist. She tasted iron as warm liquid appeared on her tongue.

Euphemia screamed in pain and dropped the dagger.