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“Worth a try.”

“Anything to keep your mind on the outside,” he muses, almost as if he is talking to himself. This time when he speaks, it’s chilling in the way they make vampires out to be in the movies. If he wasn’t so inhuman, he would sound alluring.

“So, this is the psychological part of the torture? You will offer me solace, play mind games, etc.?”

“No. I will ask you one question. You will answer.”

“If I do not?” Likely another day or two of water torture, cold.

“The men outside will not come back, if that is what you are thinking. My time frame is short.”

“That’s inconvenient for you.”

“Who is the man you were with at the casino?”

“My brother’s boyfriend.” I sniff because laughing hurts my ribs. “Where is Pyotr?”

“I would not expect a Volk to be so glib,” he says mostly to himself. “And I will ask the questions.”

In the dim, I can just barely make out his shape across the cell from me. He stands perfectly still. Until suddenly he is next to me. It takes everything in me not to flinch at that deadly speed and precision.

The fraction of light leaking under the door gleams in his eyes. Hollow. Dark.

“His name. And you go free.”

“He did not tell you? He is movie star. Bryan Reynolds. You’ve heard of him, I’m sure.”

He does not sigh. He does not react at all.

That anticipation makes everything worse, waiting for him to strike, to slash me. But nothing.

For some reason, it’s shaking me to my core.

Even more when he’s back at the door suddenly, looking back as he steps into the hallway.

“You think you will endure this for him. I will use that against you. We will see how well he endures.”

Alone again, I breathe deeply, centering myself.

There is nothing they can do to harm me. Even if they take Ciro…

I will tear them to shreds if they kill him. I will die avenging him, to join him.

Darkness deepens. I close my eyes.

Pain lances through my back, I’m being dragged to the door. To my feet. Shoved out into what is likely a dimly lit corridor. But to my light-starved eyes, it’s a thousand suns searing my mind.

Every muscle aches, stiff with cold and disuse over the last two days. I should have warmed up. Stretched. But conserving energy is key.

The room they drag me to is empty, save for a single chair. I am thrown into it, told to stay put. A single candle lights the room, on a table in the corner.

As soon as they leave, I shuffle to it, cupping my hands around the heat.

I could use the fire as a weapon. Better to use my dress as a rope and strangle one of them. It’s already in tatters around me.

But I will wait, keeping as much material covering my skin as possible.

Lifting the candle holder, I return to my seat to wait. I stare at the door for hours. Until it finally creeks open slowly.