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“Take me to him.”

“Can’t do that.” I crossed the room and stopped a few feet away, close enough to see the tears on her face but far enough to give her space to run if she wanted. “You broke the rules. That means you owe the House a debt.”

“What kind of debt?”

“Depends on what you want.”

“I want my husband back.”

“He doesn’t want to come back.” I pulled a folded contract from my jacket and held it out. “He signed this six months ago. Gave the House permission to keep him as long as it wanted. He’s not a prisoner. He’s an exhibit.”

Claire stared at the paper, her hands shaking. “That’s not possible.”

“Read it.”

She took the contract and read it twice, her face going pale. “This says he agreed to permanent residency. That he waived his right to leave.”

I told her he had.

“He wouldn’t do that.”

“He did it in front of thirty witnesses.” I gestured toward the photographs. “The House doesn’t force anyone to stay. It just makes them want to.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“You don’t have to believe me. You just have to decide what you’re willing to pay to see him.”

Her jaw tightened. “What do you want?”

“Not me. The House.” I stepped closer and lowered my voice. “You broke three rules tonight. That’s three debts. You can pay them separately, or you can consolidate them into one contract. One performance. One night. Then you get to see your husband and decide for yourself whether he wants to leave.”

“What kind of performance?”

I repeated what the woman had already told her. “The kind where you prove you’re serious.”

“About what?”

“About how far you’ll go to get him back.”

Claire looked at the photographs again, her expression hardening. “Fine. I’ll do it.”

“You don’t know what it is yet.”

“I don’t care.” She folded the contract and handed it back. “Whatever it takes.”

That should have been my first warning.

Nobody who said whatever it takes ever understood what the House would ask for.

The performance had been simple. Brutal, but simple.

They took Claire to a private room beneath the main stage and told her she’d be participating in a hunt. She’d be given a ten-minute head start to hide anywhere in the lower galleries. If she evaded capture for one hour, she’d be taken to see her husband and given the option to negotiate his release. If she were caught, she’d owe the House an additional debt to be determined later.

She agreed.

The guests gathered in the observation gallery, watching through one-way glass as Claire ran through the dark corridors in a thin white slip, barefoot, her breath visible in the cold air. The House turned off most of the lights and piped in the sound of her heartbeat, amplifying it through hidden speakers so the audience could hear her panic.

They gave me the muzzle, the knife, and a single instruction.