Page 16 of Stolen Empire
Stale sweat, animal waste, and the sour tang of fear that hasn't faded overnight.
Katya is curled in the corner on the floor, her arms wrapped around her knees, her eyes half-open and glazed.
She doesn't move when I step inside and crouch in front of her.
I almost feel sorry for making her sleep on the concrete.
Almost.
"Get up," I say.
This woman tried to steal the most valuable horse this track owns, and one hard-fought to keep too.
That mare is the best thing to happen to this track in a decade.
There's no way she's just walking away from that.
She blinks slowly, and for a moment, I think she's going to refuse.
Then she unfolds herself and pushes herself to her feet.
Her clothes are filthy, her hair tangled, and there are dark circles under her eyes that weren't there yesterday.
She looks at me with an expression that's somewhere between defiance and exhaustion, and I know she's close to breaking.
But I need her sharp, not shattered.
"Come with me," I say, turning toward the door.
She follows without argument, stumbling slightly as she moves into the morning light.
I lead her across the yard to my office, a small room at the back of the main building with a desk, a chair, and nothing else.
The walls are bare, the window covered with a blind that's always drawn, and the only light comes from a single overhead fixture.
I gesture for her to sit, and she lowers herself into the chair, her hands gripping the armrests.
I close the door and lean against the desk, crossing my arms as I study her.
She doesn't look away, doesn't drop her gaze, and I'm reminded again that she's not an ordinary thief.
She's got control, even when she's falling apart.
"You're going to work for me," I say. "Not mucking stalls or hauling buckets. A task that requires your actual skills."
Her eyes narrow.
"What are you talking about?"
"You're a con artist. You broke into this place with a plan, you scouted it for days, and you walked in here knowing exactly what you were after. That takes talent. And I need that talent."
"For what?" she asks skeptically.
Her eyes narrow on me as if she's intrigued and settle on my face as I decide just how much I want to tell her.
"To find the traitor in my crew."
I push off the desk and move to the window, pulling the blind aside to look out at the yard.
