It was either Madame Naumov’s choking reflex, rising panic, or a combination of the two that caused her struggling. Madeleine carefully held herself tight against her side, one arm hooked around her bound arms, the other gripping her upper arm. All the while she was wary off those long, strong dancer legs that had earned a quick, cheap blow to Sergei minutes before. They looked soft and elegant in black tights, but she would rest easy once they were securely tethered together.<br/><br/>A particularly hard tug from Naumov set her off balance slightly on her high heels. Madeleine squeezed her arm a little tighter. “Sit still,” she hissed.<br/><br/>She hoped Sergei would be smart about things; subdue whoever it was who saw them, then bring them back so they could keep them quiet. She could hear the sounds of a scuffle past the hall, then a woman’s scream. If things got any louder, they could start attracting attention.<br/>