The woman’s hand comes up, and this time I see the blow coming. I grab her at the wrist, stopping her cold. She’s all bark and growl, with no real meat on her, and with a bit of pressure at the right angle, her arm folds in and she crumples. “The poker!” she cries out.

The other inspector abandons the girl she’s examining and grabs a poker from the fire. As she turns the red-hot end toward me, something roars to life in my gut, a flame in the pit of my empty stomach. Suddenly it doesn’t matter that I’m weary and dehydrated; when the woman lunges, I drop low. The poker sails over my shoulder, and I tackle her around the waist, bringing her to the ground. She coughs out all her air, and the poker clatters aside. I snatch it up and turn, wheeling on the first woman. She’s clutching her wrist. I wonder briefly if I broke it, but as soon as she starts screaming for backup, I run. Out of the shanty. Into the open market.

I see only one thing: the man carrying Bay. He’s moving toward a caged wagon in the center of the market, this one drawn by mules. I race after him as the women scream for me to be stopped. Their voices are a distant hum. Bay is almost back in my grasp. Another three steps, and the man will be within reach. I wind up with the poker, ready to strike.

Something collides with my side.

I crash to the hard earth and lose all the air in my lungs. Hands pin my wrists down by my ears. Knees pin my thighs firm. The poker is ripped away as I gasp.

“You realize I don’t get paid if you run, right?” Bain smiles above me. Standing behind him, Cree now holds the poker, glowing end pointed at my face. I thrash beneath Bain, but even with the rage burning in my chest, I’m no match for his strength.

“Get her up!” comes a shout.

Bain hoists me to my feet.

“Jacket off.” It’s the balding man Bain had been bartering with.

I crane my neck, trying to find Bay, but my jacket is already being stripped from my shoulders. Bain shoves me, and I stagger forward, barely catching myself on the wagon he used to tow me into the Barrel.

The balding man unfurls a whip, and dread coils in my chest when I realize what’s about to happen.

Show it to no one.

A fist gathers my shirt at the back of my neck.

Unless you trust them with your own life, keep it hidden. Always.