“I’m sure you’ve been told that you’re special, that your courage is what set you apart. But it didn’t feel like courage at the time, did it?”

“No.” The truth of that lives deep in her bones. “It wasn’t courage. Just desperation.”

“But Huxton’s other brides must have been desperate, too. How did you move from desperation into action?”

“I don’t know.” His use of the word “brides”—the media term for Huxton’s victims—scrapes against her nerves. Her self-control feels slippery now, her hold tenuous. “Why do you care?”

“It’s interesting to me. There was a moment, wasn’t there? When you decided you’d rather die than be Huxton’s bride. And then you realized you’d rather fight than die.”

“Yes.” A gasp of a word. She claws desperately for better memories: petunias, soft loam, her sister’s hug.…

“What was the moment?”

Emma shudders. Petunias, petunias—“ I don’t remember.”

“I’m sure you do. Let’s go back to it. You were held in a basement, weren’t you? Was it dark?”

“Yes. It was.…” Her breath fractures, and all remembrance of sweetness falls away. “There was a sliver of light that came through a gap in the boards of the door.”

“I can see you’ve just remembered that. And the light was important?”

“It meant there was an outside.”

“Yes, an outside. An escape route.” Simon’s voice has a cool cunning. “That must have been tantalizing.”

Emma is not looking at Simon anymore. She is staring back into memory. “Vicki and Tammy were afraid of the light.”

“They were afraid of the door opening.”

“A lot of light meant he was on his way down.” The terror in her words is barely contained.

“And that would be very bad.”

“Yes.” She’s hoarse now.

“Were the other girls catatonic by that stage? Had they lost their capacity to reason?”

“Tammy was… She couldn’t walk.” Emma closes her eyes.

Simon prods further. “She tried to rebel, didn’t she?”

“Yes. And he… he…”

“He cut off her foot.”

“Yes.” She has to float through the nausea. “And Vicki… Vicki couldn’t function so good. He’d already had her two weeks.”

“Yes, she would’ve been completely tattered by then.” He smiles softly. “But you were still functioning well.”

“I was the last girl he caught. He only had me for three days.”

“So it was fortuitous circumstances. You were still fresh. He didn’t have a chance to starve you for very long, and you still remembered what it felt like to be free.” Simon waves his hand toward her. “Plus you had some skills that the other brides didn’t have.”

Emma watches his eyes move. “The other girls were all from the city. I grew up in the country.”

“You had a certain mental toughness.”

“I guess.”

“There’s no guessing—here you are. You didn’t go into shock and shut down.” He seems almost proud of her. “And you had something else, too. Do you know what it was?”

“Not really.”

His eyes hold her entire as his fine, graceful fingers grip the bars. “It’s the same quality that keeps you running, Emma. That keeps you pounding the track every day. It’s what will save you, in the end. But go back for me. How did you and Vicki and Tammy learn each other’s names?”