“At least they didn’t kill us.”

“Not certain if that’s a good thing right now, St. George,” I replied. “That just means they can do this again in a few hours.” Gingerly, I attempted to sit up. Pain ricocheted through my body, and I grimaced. “Ow. Okay, that’s a cracked rib. Maybe a couple cracked ribs. Bastards.” I slumped against the wall, breathing slowly and waiting for the stabbing sensation to fade. A few feet away, the soldier still lay on his back, gazing at the ceiling.

“They’re going to kill us, aren’t they?”

I let out a slow breath. “Yeah,” I muttered, feeling something dark and cold settle over me. “Maybe not at the same time—they’ll still need one of us to use as leverage against Ember. But...yeah, they’re going to kill us.”

St. George nodded slowly, as if he’d already expected it. Slumping against the wall, I let my head fall back, regret and failure turning sourly in my stomach. I thought of Wes, my hatchlings, my underground. Who would protect them, now that I was gone? Wes was competent and the smartest human I’d ever met, but he didn’t have the survival skills needed to keep everyone safe. I wished I could have prepared them better.

And I wished I could’ve seen Ember, one last time.

“How long?” St. George asked, his own voice contemplative. As if he, too, was thinking of everything he regretted, everything he wished he could have done. I shook my head.

“Probably not long. I imagine they’ll want at least one more interrogation session. With the right drugs this time.”

St. George raised his head, frowning.

“Right drugs? What are you talking about?”

“You’ve never been under the effects of a truth serum, have you?” I asked, and he shook his head. “I have. With Mist actually.” I leaned my head against the wall, remembering that night in Vegas and the first interrogation with the other Basilisk. Even with my training, resolve and determination not to talk, I’d almost given up my underground. The various drugs the Talon scientists had created specifically for use against our kind were nasty and extremely potent; the organization had a long history of getting what they wanted, no matter what.

“I don’t know what she stuck us with at the beginning of the session,” I went on, hearing the soldier struggle upright, “but it wasn’t sodium thiopental, or their version of truth serum. We’d both be babbling like a pair of drunken idiots if it was.”