Petyr woke up to the sound of a dog barking somewhere in the distance. The sun was already way, way too bright. Shut up, he thought, pressing the pillow harder around his head in frustration.

  He was sweaty from nightmares he couldn’t remember, and hard enough that it was distracting. For a moment, he almost reached down to take care of business, before he suddenly remembered Avesta was there.

  His eyes burst open, swiveling across the room for a sign of her. “Avesta?”

  The floor was clear.

  With his heart beginning to pound in his chest, he shifted to the edge of the bed and bent over to look under it.

  Nothing.

  Where the fuck is she? he thought, a spike of anxiety shooting right through his guts

  By the time he made it to the door, he began to relax, coping by telling himself she simply gone out before she Alis waltzed in. She wouldn’t want to be found. Probably just stopped sleeping and took off…

  Downstairs, there was nothing to see either. Alis hadn’t woken up, and the kitchen was empty. His father was either sleeping next to her or was back down in his—

  As the startling realization hit him, Petyr’s eyes instantly snapped to the door. No…

  What had she said the night before? That this was the day they’d interrogate Gregory. But she wouldn’t. Not without asking me first. Not…

  His mind became a maelstorm of emotions as he stared at the door, envisioning a myriad of potential outcomes. Either she wasn’t there, in which case he’d still have to deal with her later and explain to her why his father was unlikely to be the big help she hoped he would be. Or…

  Or she’s down there with him right now, and he’s missing his ears or more.

  Sweat dripping down his forehead, Petyr stepped out to the door and knocked. “Dad? Are you down there?”

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  Normally, it would have been locked, but this time, when he pressed down on the handle, the door swung open with a disturbing groan. “Dad?” Petyr called out, a numbness spreading down to his extremities.

  All he could imagine at present was his father’s limp and lifeless body just splayed out in the middle of his basement lab.

  There’s no way she’s done that he told himself. I’ll kill her if she did.

  Petyr began his slow descent down into the darkness below. “Dad?” he called out again.

  Rather than leading direct into the basement, the stairs went all the way down, then there was an abrupt turn to the left and a tiny hallway that led to the lab proper.

  “Dad!” he yelled again.

  It occurred to him only when there were two steps left that he shoud’ve grabbed a weapon.

  When he turned and looked within, he could see his father.

  Dad?…

  Gregory was sitting in a chair from the kitchen, bound with rope, gagged, his eyes bulging. He seemed to be wiggling around wildly, trying to break out of the constraints, his eyes frantically moving from left to right.

  Avesta. “Dad!”

  Petyr barely got his foot forward when the icy tip of a familiar bolt pressed against his neck. “Don’t say a word. Move forwards.”

  Where had she even come from? Had she been crouched there the whole time? Just melding with the shadows?

  This stupid idiot. How could she come here by herself? How could she do this to his father? They could’ve talked it out! Gregory would’ve just told her…

  As the anger took hold of him, Petyr snapped, “Why the hell did you—”

  A world-shattering pain from below made him fold and fall down to his knees.

  Avesta kicked him in the balls hard enough that it was like every other organ in his body had a hand around it and was getting squeezed. His lungs were refusing to work. His heart seemed to stop.

  She shoved him to the ground and pinned him. “He does not know you’re with me, so say nothing,” she whispered, only for him to hear.

  Then she kicked him in the stomach with the pointed tip of her boot. More pain. “Say another word,” she hissed, “and daddy’s entrails will paint the floor.”

  Lunatic, he thought as rebounded from the agony, trying to clamber back to his feet. Gregory stared at him—helpless, enranged, empathetic—a man who wanted to defend his son.

  A strange sense of shame filled Petyr as he realized he was playing a part in this senseless deception. I should knock her on her ass right now. Just punch her damn face in!

  Instead, he got over to the counter that held many of his father’s instruments and leaned against it, clutching his balls protectively, waiting for the pain to pass. Why had the gods decided this week would test his pain tolerance?

  Avesta sashayed confidently over to Gregory and pinched his gag between two fingers, placing her bolt against his eye. “Speak out of turn, and this will find its way into your son. Understood?”

  Gregory nodded miserably.

  “Very well.” Avesta smirked mirthelssly. “Then let us converse.”