Chapter 217

• The sharp metal driven into her collarbone hadn’t been pulled out. A silver hook was anchored to a neat, slender chain at the end—like a fishhook threaded through a fish’s gills.
• Zayla Steele rolled off the wooden board under the man’s force and thudded onto the floor. She lay on her stomach, blood sliding from the corner of her mouth, trailing across the concrete.
• “Bring up that fool we caught the day before yesterday.”