I spent the next two years making sure that when it finally spoke again, nothing in the world could survive it.

Chapter 3 — The Holding Cell

Roman came to see me exactly once, in the holding cell, the night after the verdict.

His suit smelled of cedar and victory.

“Why?” I asked him.

It was the only question I had.

He crouched down in front of the bars, unhurried, and looked at me with the fond, appraising expression of a man admiring an animal that has finally been safely locked away.

“Because you wouldn’t sign the company shares over,” he said softly, almost gently, as though explaining something to a slow child.