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Kharem pushed his revulsion down again, and averted his eyes from the puddle of filth that coated the corner of the cell. He couldn’t avoid the stench, though—that clung to the walls now, and he knew it was already seeping into his clothing.
At least Genna offered her prisoners a bucket. At least she put an end to their suffering efficiently.
But that wasn’t Garrick’s way. Kharem had always known this, and he’d told himself it wasn’t going to be a problem. And it wasn’t. Yet.
The prisoner lay on the floor, eyes hidden beneath multi-hued swelling, hair matted with blood.
“One last chance,” Garrick said, standing over the poor wretch. “Tell me what you know.”
“I…I’ve told you everything.” The man’s words were hard to hear as he spat them through bloodied lips and broken te
