He caught her staring and flinched. Then he looked away, his hand hovering protectively over where his ear had been. He swallowed and lowered his hand.
“It’s better,” he replied, answering her unspoken question as they walked. His accent softened the edges of his words, y sounds whispering into sh sounds. “I’m getting the stitches out tomorrow.”
Nita didn’t respond.
She wished her mother had killed him. She wished she’d dissected him. None of this would have happened then. Nita wouldn’t be missing a toe—even though she’d used her ability to meld the skin over where it once was, there was an absence, as though her nerves hadn’t quite realized they ended in a new place now and still reached out, expecting a toe to be there.
She also wouldn’t have spent the past week watching people die in the black market. Wouldn’t have had to murder them herself.
She could still remember the moment she read the text exchange on her captor’s phone and realized that the person who’d sold her to the black market was Fabricio all along. The moment of sheer disbelief, followed by the sudden rush of rage, hot and vicious.
Now her anger simmered, a steady glow in the pit of her stomach. If she let it loose, she’d only end up with more problems. She wasn’t sure she cared. She wanted to let it all out, no matter what the repercussions.
Be rational, Nita. You can’t murder him with all these surveillance cameras around.
Nita hated when her brain made sense.
On the first floor, near the back of the building, thick metal double doors opened into a small garden. A high brick wall surrounded it, covered in vines and ivy, and several people sat on benches and under trees. The sun was steady and hot, and sweat quickly dripped down Nita’s back.
Nita led Fabricio to a secluded part of the garden, near a floripondio tree. The bell-shaped flowers hung from the branches like unlit pink lanterns, beautiful and gentle. Also, one of the most poisonous plants in the world. Nita plucked one of the flowers and twirled it in her hand. So deadly. Hidden in such a pretty shell that no one ever guessed until it was too late.
Finally, Nita turned to face Fabricio. He shifted awkwardly under her gaze. He wore blue jeans and a plain gray T-shirt, a twin to Nita’s own INHUP-issued clothes.
“I’m glad you decided to run away,” he finally said.
Nita opened her mouth to tell him he very well knew that she didn’t run away. But she stopped. She could accuse him all she wanted, but he’d just deny it. Even if he admitted it, what point was there in tipping him off that she knew what he’d done? She couldn’t kill him in front of all these people, and if he knew she knew, he’d be on his guard.
And he should be. Because there was no way Nita was going to let him get away with what he’d done to her.
So instead, she said quietly, pretending she believed his ignorance, “I didn’t run away. I was sold on the market.”
He winced, and his face twisted in sympathy. “I’m so sorry. I know how awful that can be.”
He ran a hand through his hair, exposing the hint of stitches creeping down one side of his head. Nita turned away and tried not to remember his screams as her mother tortured him while Nita stood by and watched. And did nothing.
Maybe that was why he sold her. Because she did nothing until the last possible moment.
“Was it your mother?” he asked, voice soft. “Was it punishment for helping me?”
He seemed so genuine in his concern, and Nita felt a sliver of doubt creep in. Could those messages have been sent by someone else? But then she remembered how easily he’d played her before, stared at her with huge eyes, manipulated her into thinking he was completely innocent so she’d free him. Her eyes narrowed. She wasn’t going to be played again.
“No.”
His hands hovered, then lowered. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry. If it’s all too fresh.”
He gave her a gentle smile, and Nita wanted to punch it off his face. Manipulative little sneak.
He hesitated, then asked, “Your captor . . . she didn’t hurt you, did she?”
“Well, she was working with a zannie, so why don’t you take a guess?”
His face went gray. “A zannie?”
Zannies ate people’s pain, which made them expert torturers. Nita could see Fabricio’s imagination filling in all the blanks of her time in the market with all the horrific things zannies did.
“Yes.” Nita’s voice was cold. “Sometimes, when I close my eyes, I can still hear the screaming.”
Fabricio flinched as though she’d hit him. His eyes widened, and something passed across his face, something that looked like it might be guilt or regret. But it was gone in a blink.
Nita carefully didn’t mention she’d ended up making an ally of the zannie in her escape. She wanted Fabricio to feel as shitty about what he’d done as possible.
Also, she wasn’t sure what the fact that she’d befriended a monster like Kovit said about her. Nothing good, likely.
“God, I’m so, so sorry,” Fabricio whispered, and the horror on his face seemed so genuine, if Nita didn’t have evidence against him she’d really think he meant it. “I can’t believe she hired a zannie.”
Nita opened her mouth to make another caustic remark, but stopped. Fabricio had specifically said “she” when referring to Nita’s captor. Multiple times.
Nita hadn’t mentioned her captor was female.
Nita played back the conversation, checking to see if she’d used any feminine descriptors, pronouns, any cue in her Spanish that could have indicated gender. Nothing.
More proof. As if she needed it. She already had the messages between him and her captor, Reyes, hammering out the details of the deal.
But perhaps some small part of her had wondered if someone had stolen the phone from him, or if maybe a corrupt INHUP agent had confiscated it or . . . something.
Nita crushed the flower in her hand. All doubts were extinguished.
“We’ll have to be cautious where we talk,” he said, eyeing a passing agent. His eyes roved around at the walled-off garden, lingering on all the security cameras and INHUP agents. “You might get in trouble if they knew who your mother was.”
Ah. There it was. The veiled threat. The reminder that he knew exactly who she was, and if he wanted to, he could destroy her chances of getting a plane ticket home from INHUP.
Well, two could play at that game.
“Yes.” Nita loosened her grip and twirled the crushed flower. “And we’ll have to be careful about mentioning your father too.”
He stiffened, whole body going rigid, eyes widening. Like a poorly oiled puppet, his head jerked to face her, and he whispered, “Pardon?”
“Your father.” Nita tilted her head to one side as her fingers played along the petals. “Quite the bigwig, I hear. Knows all the monsters.”
Fabricio swallowed and replied carefully, “Where did you hear about my father?”
“The market I was sold in, of course.” Nita spoke in the mild tone of someone innocently commenting on the weather. “I hear he runs one of the biggest law firms in the world. They specialize in shell corporations, tax evasion, and all sorts of other things for rich people. Especially rich black market people.”