Lynell shakes her head, looking back to the shorter guard. His hair is still long and his beard patchy.

They’re both wearing a uniform. A black button up suits that stretches for quick movements, black boots, and a belt that holds a gun and knife.

She closes her eye and hooks her thumbs over her stomach.

“If I just jumped up and ran, grabbed one of those shiny knives in your belt and tried to stab you in the neck.” She focuses on making her voice sound nonchalant, as if discussing a movie with a friend. “What would you do?”

They don’t answer, but she can hear one of them unclip the gun from his belt.

She chuckles. “Shoot me?” She shrugs, the bare metal underneath her scratching her skin. She manages to control the flinch and instead opens her eyes and sits up, cradling her injured arm. “Go ahead,” she says, glaring at the men. The taller one points his gun to the ground, but seems ready to raise and shoot any moment. The other is standing in the exact same position he was earlier, arms crossed and weight resting on his back leg.

Lynell repositions so she’s sitting on the edge of the bedframe, her legs dangling over the side. She raises an eyebrow and focuses her attention on the taller guard. “What do you think Mr. Elysian would do if he found out you killed his precious niece before she had a chance to give him the code he desperately desires?”

He doesn’t answer, but she notices his finger twitch on the gun.

Lynell gives a dramatic sigh and shrugs. “Because I don’t think he’d be very happy.” She looks to the guard on the left. “What do you think?”

He squints at her, frowning. The silence stretches on, and she dips her head to prompt his answer.

“You said you don’t know it,” he says. The other guard jerks his head to stare at his coworker, eyes wide with shock that he replied.

Lynell laughs. “I lied.” That’s a gamble, she thinks. If these two tell Eric, he’ll be even angrier and more dangerous. “But why tell Eric that when playing a scared, confused, naïve child is so fun?”

“Fun?” His eyes travel down her body, lingering on her hand and the bruises and cuts that litter any exposed skin. “You call this fun?”

Lynell bites a nail and shrugs again. “It’s fun watching Eric squirm, don’t you think? I mean, between you and me . . .” She lowers her voice and leans forward. “He knows he’s a bastard and has no real claim to the Elysian name.”

The shorter guard’s eyes widen and the other one raises his gun. “How dare—”

“Why?” Lynell interrupts. “Because I’m wrong? I’m not . . . and you must know that. Why else would I be such a threat to him?”

“You are—”

“The only true, legitimate heir left,” Lynell says. “The only person with the code.”

The taller guard seems to be getting flustered. His gun is still trained on her, but his hands adjust their hold as he shifts his weight from foot to foot.