I swallow hard. “No. But two of your hostages are about to try something. They think they can overpower you.”
He tilts his head. “Which two?”
I nod at Kyle and his friend. “Them.”
His cyber-eye glows brighter for a heartbeat. He grins, sharp and foxlike. “Thank you.”
I hesitate. “If you let them try, they’ll start shooting. People will die.”
“Mm.” He taps a claw against his blaster. “We’ll handle it.”
He starts to turn away.
“Wait,” I blurt. “You said you wouldn’t hurt anyone if we cooperated.”
He chuckles, deep and cruel. “I never said that, little bird. I said we wanted leverage.”
He walks off, calling orders. Two guards break off and stalk toward the young men. Kyle straightens, smirk still half-formed, not realizing the trap.
“Relax,” he says to his friend. “They’re just trying to scare us?—”
The first shot is deafening. It cracks the tile, a sound like the world splitting.
The second shot drops his friend.
Screams ripple through the hostages. Caelix wails, pressing his face into my neck. I bite my lip so hard I taste blood.
Marrok steps back into view, pistol still warm, smoke curling from the muzzle. He drags the weapon slowly down his leg, then smiles at me.
“They hesitated,” he says calmly. “I didn’t.”
He gestures at the two crumpled bodies bleeding out on the tile. “This is on you, you know.”
My stomach heaves. “What?”
“You warned me,” he says. “Which gave me the edge. Which made me act first. Which meanstheir blood is on your hands.”
He crouches low, voice dropping to a whisper only I can hear. “But look at the bright side. Your child still breathes. That’s more than can be said for heroes.”
I don’t move. I can’t. My body’s a statue. Caelix’s sobbing trembles through my bones. I grip him so tight my knuckles ache.
“Thank you,” I force out, because that’s what he expects. “For sparing us.”
His smile widens. “Good girl. Keep being useful, and maybe you’ll both walk out of here.”
He straightens, shouts to his men: “Let this be a lesson. We’re not playing games.”
The guards drag the bodies away, leaving streaks of red on the tile.
Around me, hostages avert their eyes, faces pale. No one speaks. No one moves.
I press my lips to Caelix’s hair, breathing his smell—baby shampoo, tears, fear. My cheek still burns where I was struck earlier.
Inside, my thoughts scream:
He’s not letting us go. None of us. This is just a stage show.
But outwardly, I nod.
