The tall one, the leader of this little gang, judging by the way the other men look to him, unfastens a small crossbow from his belt and loads it with a bolt. His friends do the same, two of them spreading out around the cage and training their weapons on me. The third man follows the leader as he steps up to the cage door.

“I’m Sergeant Belanger,” the leader says. “But you will call me Sir. Now stand up, turn around, and lean on the bed, spreading your hands and feet as far as they’ll go.”

I don’t move at first. I keep my eyes fastened to the floor, bottom lip between my teeth, and steal a moment to weigh the situation. I’m pretty sure my shower and hot meal is a dead hope. I’m probably in a deep pile of shit. But how deep? A beating? An accident in the shower? A thwarted escape attempt that ends in my death?

“You deaf as well as stupid, blood whore?”

I sigh, long and hard. I’m supposed to be following my new “best-behavior” plan. Looks like it’s getting its first road test.

Throwing Mr. Call-Me-Sir a withering glare—I know I shouldn’t, it’ll only make him worse, but let’s face it, the guy’s a twat—I slip off my perch and follow his instructions.

“Very good, boy. But where was my ‘yes, sir?’”

Bollocks. My best-behavior plan starts to smoke, its edges catching fire from the heat in my gut.

When I say nothing, he adds, “Well?”

I grimace, images of red rags and bulls coming to mind. I’m in a whole heap of trouble, but a man can’t help the way he’s made. “Go fuck yourself.” Yep, a whole heap of trouble.

He chuckles. A dry, humorless sound. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

His answer draws my attention back to him. His metal-gray eyes gleam with a wild hunger, the cold curve of his lips suggesting a man with sickly appetites and a fondness for cruelty. Great. This day just gets better and better.

Keys clatter against metal, and Belanger swings the door open. “Stay exactly where you are. Move without permission, you get a bolt in the leg. Understand?”

I nod. But of course, it’s not the response he wants.

His long legs eat the space in a few strides, and the force of his fist meeting my kidney buckles my knees. Pain bursts through my back, and I go down, hands gripping the wooden edge of the bed to catch my fall.

“Answer me correctly, boy.”

Pushing myself up to stand again, I purse my lips in mock thoughtfulness. “Yes, Dickface?”