“Zelle, it’s me. It’s Nina …”

Between her fingers her good eye finally focuses on my face and she gives a sharp intake of breath.

“No, no, no …”

She’s shaking violently now, wet and cold, as I try to drag her to her feet.

“Zelle, please, we have to go before they wake. Come quickly.”

“No!” She twists out of my grasp and tears herself away from me, backing into the wall. “I won’t go, I won’t, I won’t. They broke his hands. They broke him …” She stops, and something in her gaze hardens.

“Zelle,” I say calmly. I approach her slowly, like a person trying to tame a frightened beast.

I hear the creak of a door opening downstairs, and a raised voice berating someone. I curse under my breath. The Fleshers have arrived, and they must have realized that something is wrong. Voices grow louder. I don’t have much time.

“Zelle, it’s me, Nina,” I say.

“Nina? Nina, no … not Nina. Not Nina …” Her words are slurred, her voice ragged. “You must leave, before they come … They broke him. They broke—”

“Shhh,” I say, even as footsteps pound up the stairs. It’s only moments now until they begin to check on the girls, until they find me here with her.

Azelma’s eyes focus on my face, and for the first time since I have stood here before her, I think she truly sees me.

Boots thunder down the hallway. Doors slam. Voices call out that the girls are asleep. Azelma’s eyes dart to her window, terror raw on her face.

“You must go,” she says urgently.

“Not without you.” I reach for her. “Come with me.” She looks at my hand, and she takes it. We dash to the window, which I throw open, and I clamber onto the ledge, then turn to her.

I see it then, the clarity amid her confusion, the resolve beneath her fear. My sister stares into my eyes; she is so close I feel her breath against my cheek.

“Run,” she says, and she pushes me as behind her the door flies open. I watch my sister’s face as I fall in slow motion, and then abruptly she is gone and a man is leaning out, yelling and pointing.

I hit the ground with a shuddering impact. Pain laces my side. The wind has been knocked out of me, and I gasp for breath, willing my limbs to move, finding that they obey far more slowly than I can afford. I barely manage to rise to my feet as several men burst out of the building. They’re giants, like all of the Tiger’s sons, chosen for their brawn, their complete absence of morals, and their unspeakable propensity for inflicting pain. They circle me like sharks. They ask no questions; they don’t want to know who I am or why I am there. My being there is enough for them.

The sun is setting fast. I have time to call out only once, so I whistle loud and sharp, the call of the Thieves, knowing that even if anyone hears, it will probably be too late.