Let him think I’m smaller than I am.
“You’re quiet,” Krago says, his voice carrying that same smooth edge, like he’s always one step removed from whatever’s actually happening.
I lift my head slowly, meeting his gaze without rushing it.
“You expected screaming?” I ask.
One corner of his mouth pulls slightly, not quite a smile.
“I expected resistance,” he says.
“You got it.”
He takes another step closer, stopping just outside my reach, his eyes moving over me in a way that isn’t careless. He’s looking for something—weakness, probably, or the shape of where to apply pressure.
I don’t give him anything obvious.
“You’re not afraid,” he says.
“I am,” I reply, shifting slightly against the beam, letting the rope pull just enough to show it exists without fighting it. “I’m just not stupid enough to show you where it matters.”
That earns a low sound from him, something between amusement and approval.
“Good,” he says. “That makes this more interesting.”
I tilt my head slightly, watching him.
“You think this is interesting,” I say.
“I think you are,” he replies.
I let that sit for half a second, then shrug one shoulder, the movement small but deliberate.
“You’ve got a strange definition of interesting,” I say.
His gaze sharpens just slightly.
“You’re buying time,” he says.
“Of course I am,” I reply, not bothering to deny it.
That pauses him.
Not because I surprised him.
Because I didn’t try to.
“Why?” he asks.
I meet his eyes.
“Because I can,” I say.
The silence stretches just long enough that I can hear movement outside shift slightly—boots repositioning, someone adjusting their stance.
I log it.
Shift change is coming.
