Victor looked at me, his eyes darting from me to the dark shadows where Bishop was waiting.

“You are just a waitress, Mara,” Victor spat, though his hand was shaking.

“You are nothing.”

“I am the daughter of the woman you betrayed,” I said.

“And this dog is the only thing left of Elena.”

“He knows what you did.”

“He remembers the smell of the man who stood by the car that night.”

Bishop’s growl grew louder, a deep, terrifying sound that seemed to come from the very walls.

The shadows seemed to stretch as Bishop moved slowly into the light.

His gray fur was covered in dust, and his ears were pinned back.

His dark eyes were fixed entirely on Victor’s throat.

He did not look at me.

He was waiting for the final command.

Victor looked at the dog, and for the first time, I saw absolute certainty of death in his eyes.

“Let’s make a deal, Mara,” Victor whispered, his hand trembling over the dark shaft.

Suddenly, a loud, sharp beep echoed through the silent room.

It did not come from Victor.