Page 35 of Buried in Blood

They’re lined up in their cots like dolls with dead eyes. Most won’t look at me. One smiles. She won’t last long.

“She’s eager,” I nod toward the smiling one.

Reese doesn’t respond.

I watch him. Carefully.

“How’s Harmony been?” I ask.

He doesn’t flinch. “Same as usual.”

“Quiet?”

“Focused.”

I smirk.

“She still cries at night.”

He glances at me, finally, and there’s a flicker there. Quick. Sharp. I file it away.

“You ever think about her?” I press, tone light.

Hestiffens.

“Think about who?”

I give him a look.

He sighs through his nose. “You know I don’t think about what’s yours.”

Interesting phrasing.

I hum as I drift past the captives, studying their limbs, their lashes, their reactions. A few flinch. One doesn’t.

“Pick one,” I say, turning back to him. “For tonight.”

He blinks.

“No, thank you.”

I tilt my head. “You sure? She’s clean. Pretty. That one even looks like Harmony a little.”

His jaw ticks.

Got you.

“I said no.”

“Not even a taste?”

He turns his back on me, walking toward the exit.

Now I’m fucking certain.

I follow him, steps slow and deliberate.

“You’re a strange man, Reese,” I say as we walk. “Most of my men jump at the chance. But not you.”