Derek arrived at Chloe's cell already cold, already controlled, the kind of stillness that was far more frightening than rage. Declan followed close at his heels.
He crossed the cell to where Chloe hung in her silver chains, and without a word, he held up the tiny black chip between his thumb and forefinger, turning it so the dim light caught it.
"Tell me how this works," he said.
Chloe lifted her head. Her eyes found the chip, and Derek saw the flicker of recognition cross her face before she could hide it.
"And why," Chloe rasped, her voice cracked from days of thirst, "would I do that?"
"Because I'm asking."
"That's not much of a reason." She managed a thin, bloodless smile. "Let me down from these chains. Give me water. A bed. Treat me like something other than meat on a hook, and perhaps I'll tell you whatever you want to know."
Derek's expression did not change. "You're in no position to bargain."
