He sighed, and called in the others. But Nyx wasn’t looking at them. She was staring behind them, to the translator. The familiar voice.

The men took her by the arms and hauled her out. She finally got a clear look at the translator, and grinned. Then laughed. The laugh seemed to shake the men. They halted. She realized she was laughing over the bloody, mutilated corpse of Khatijah, staked out on the table like some magician’s specimen.

The translator finally met her gaze, but his face betrayed nothing. In that moment, when he saw her and knew her and said nothing, when not a muscle in his face twitched, when the only hint of recognition she noted was the way he squeezed his right hand into a fist—in that moment she knew this was very, very serious. She knew this was not just another routine interrogation where she would walk out with most of her limbs intact. Because if he pretended not to know her, it meant he feared these men and their power more than he feared her. And that was a scary fucking thing.

The pale men blathered on about something.

Rhys translated. “These men would like to know if you would join your friend or if you will cooperate and spare yourself her fate.”

“Tell them she’s not my friend,” Nyx said.

“Indeed. I told them that already, but you can see they remain unconvinced.”

She shrugged. “You do what you have to do, then.”

He cleared his throat. Gestured to the men, and said something in their language. She half wished it was Ahmed who was caught along with her so he could translate what Rhys was actually saying. But if it’d been Ahmed, it would be him dead on the slab now, and nothing would be any different.

One of the men took a giant hook from the table and chunked it into Khatijah’s torso. He hauled the corpse off the slab. It thumped to the floor. Just so much meat now. She had to admit the fact that Khatijah had held tight to the end, even on this botched job. Khat had been a proper bel dame. The way they were supposed to be. And then you threw the fight, Nyx thought. And you got her killed. You got all of them killed. This is your doing.

Another man shoved Nyx toward the slab.

“What, they don’t buy me dinner first?” Nyx said.

“I’m afraid not,” Rhys said. “This isn’t Nasheen.”

“In Nasheen, I’d fuck you first,” Nyx said. And this time, she meant it.

“Promises,” Rhys said. He boldly met her gaze. It was the first time she could remember him looking her in the face when she brought up anything to do with fucking.