Chapter 117

The Prey

My chest tightened as if the very air had turned to stone. I froze, my lips parting slightly as I tried to process why he—why now—would bring up him. Ivan was dead. Gone. And good riddance. Now that I thought of him, I did not feel anything except the strange hollowness that must be humanely grief but not what I thought it was.

What could Judas possibly have to say about him?

“What about Ivan?” I asked cautiously, my voice steadier than I felt. I did not want to provoke him. I knew the consequences of mentioning other man in front of him, dead or alive.

The way his lips curled at the edges told me he noticed my discomfort. He always did.

And then leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the desk. The shift was subtle, but it felt like the entire room tipped in his favour. “Don’t you think it’s time to start talking about the man you once called a friend?”

My stomach churned and I shifted unconsciously. “He’s dead an