The Black Swan's Final Revenge Pirouette: The 99th Game Was Mine All Along by Kylie Homme

Chapter 9

Luigi stood frozen in place, his gaze fixed on the charred remains. Time seemed to stop around him.

He became a statue amid the chaos–paramedics rushing about, police radios crackling, his friends sobbing in the background–all of it faded to white noise

The rescue workers approached with measured steps, their faces grim beneath rain soaked helmets as they carried the stretcher toward him. With solemn reverence, they placed her body at his feet.

“Mr. Maggiore,” the fire chief said softly. “we’re deeply sorry for your loss.”

The rain intensified, fat droplets splattering against Luigi’s face, mingling with tears he didn’t realize he was shedding. His legs gave way as he collapsed to his knees beside her, his eyes burning red.

His outstretched hands trembled violently as he tried to reach for her. Once, twice, three times he attempted to gather her into his arms, but his muscles refused to cooperate. Finally, with gentle guidance from a paramedic, he cradled what remained of Ariana against his chest.

Just hours ago–was it really only hours?-she had sat beside him in his car, her smile soft and knowing eyes bright with something he now recognized as farewell as she’d confessed her love one final time.

Now she lay motionless in his embrace, the girl who had once been so full of life reduced to this.

Her cold body temperature seeped through his rain–soaked clothes, sending ice straight to his core. The sensation was wrong–Ariana had always been warm, always radiating heat like her own personal sun.

“Ariana,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “Stop playing games. Wake up, please? Just wake up.”

He called her name over and over, the desperate pleas of a drowning man, but she remained silent, as if she were simply ignoring him after a petty argument.

Luigi pressed his face against hers just as he used to do when he wanted her attention, not caring as blood and soot transferred from her ruined features to his skin.

Memories crashed over him in relentless waves.

There were so many things he’d never told her. So many truths he’d hidden.

The first and most profound secret was that he’d noticed her long before she ever approached him.

During freshman orientation, while everyone else had been half–asleep, his attention had been completely captured by the graceful figure dancing on stage–her fluid movements, twirling skirt, and that radiant smile that seemed to illuminate the entire auditorium.

He remembered every detail with crystalline clarity–the way the stage lights had caught in her hair, hoor her laughter had carried across the room when she’d stumbled slightly during a turn.

Noticing his captivation, his roommate had leaned over, whispering excitedly about the girl.

“That’s Ariana Collins. Dance scholarship. Supposedly turned down Juilliard. Every guy in the freshman class is already obsessed.”

His roommate had continued, but Luigi had stopped listening after her name.

Ariana Collins.

creature of such grace. He had silently repeated it several

their names together once, testing how they sounded.

Collins, Luigi Maggiore.

Like they belonged together.

quickly shaken the thought away,

one he’d known since childhood, the one he was supposed to love, the only one he could imagine

to stay committed to the idea of Leila, his eyes

library steps, catch glimpses of her profile as she concentrated during lectures, or find himself mesmerized by her silhouette against

his thoughts had become haunted by her.

begun pursuing him with that endearing determination, he’d found

he’d imagine what it would be like to say yes, to let himself have what he actually wanted

he’d ruthlessly

demanded he help her get revenge on Ariana, his

refusal.

Pirnuene: The 99th

kind of person,” he’d argued. “There must be

groceries

defense of Ariana, she’d thrown

dorm roof.

cared for her then–or at least, he was accustomed to caring for her–and couldn’t bear the responsibility

he agreed to the

Ariana, execute 99 acts of revenge, and then publicly humiliate her before breaking up with her.

first time he’d hurt Ariana–telling her he’d gotten her a gift, then watching her search all night in a blizzard for something that didn’t

return at dawn, feverish and shivering yet still smiling when she saw

continued, he’d conditioned himself to grow numb to her pain. He’d convinced himself she deserved it, that her kindness was just

Leila’s smile return had seemed worth the cost of his

Ariana and left her with those men without his

fury had coursed through him, shocking

that it was just

girlfriend had been

more. The sight of those men touching her

walls he’d built around his feelings, though

he’d left her in that house and she’d said she was looking forward to his “gift” with

Final Revenge Pirouette: The

unlike anything

when Leila had threatened

of hesitation before he closed the door, with her blind folded and trusting, a thousand realizations had tried to surface.