“You escaped from one of the most fortified borders in the world,” Jim continued, “and you did useful work in a medical facility. Then you helped facilitate the escape of several prisoners from a Kingdom jail. You functioned effectively in a firefight and killed a trained soldier in hand-to-hand combat. Then you killed another man and stole a vehicle to aid your comrades in an escape. Am I missing anything?”

Sasha looked down again. She didn’t speak. She felt bad about taking praise for murder, especially for Darryl’s murder. She did, however, feel a tiny swell of pride at Jim’s words. It was immediately accompanied by a flood of guilt.

“Killing is not something to be proud of,” she said.

“Oh, I disagree,” Jim chuckled. “Killing is a highly technical skill. And you’ve proven yourself a talented amateur. With some training, and a spot of chrome, you could really be something…” He trailed off. Sasha was quiet for a moment. She looked into Jim’s eyes and tried to read something in them. That proved a fool’s errand. There was nothing in those orbs but cool confidence, and even that might be false. What did any gesture or look mean from a man who could control every aspect of his body, right down to his pupils?

“I don’t want to get better at killing,” she told him. “I don’t want to fill my body with unnatural…things. Just thinking about it makes me feel ill.”

“And yet,” Jim said.

“What do you mean, ‘And yet’?” she asked.

”And yet, that thought intrigues you too. It’s no use hiding it. I can taste deceit.”

Sasha shuddered a little at that. But she couldn’t deny that he was right. As much as the idea repulsed her, she’d spent too much time powerless to not crave power.

“I’m not looking to push you into anything, Sasha. But I would like to provide you with a unique opportunity.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

He smiled, plopped down on his butt and swung his legs in to sit cross-legged on the shag carpet. He draped one elbow over his thigh, a casual motion that also served to let him cover his groin from view without making a big deal about it. Sasha appreciated that.

Jim stuck a finger into the thick black fibers of the carpet and started tugging at them. It was an idle, nervous gesture, and Sasha found it oddly endearing. Part of her suspected that had been his goal.

“I mean that I would be willing to take you on as a project.”

“A ‘project’?”

He nodded. “My organization has access to skilled surgeons, ­military-grade augmetics, and vat-grown organs. I’ll front the bill. And I’ll train you. And in return, you’ll work for me.”

“Forever?” she asked. Jim laughed. She felt a little annoyed by that, and it must have shown on her face because he stopped.