a

g on my apartment door start

orld collectors was no longer a vague fear; it was a physical presence in the room with me. They had called me twice in

ced by the grating sound o

erson had a key

a faded jacket and worn-out jeans, and in his hand he held a small plastic bag of cheap apples. He was playing

laced with a carefully crafted co

with a sour heat. How could he stan

I said, my voice hollow and t

nicked at all. He looked entirely, terrifyingly in control. He crosse

dark, unreadable eyes locked onto mine. "In my world, women only want

d stone sat

hysical burn in my throat. "You let me work until

ere a trifle. "And now, I am going to take care of you. I will g

a sleek, black-and-gold Familia corporat

omorrow morning," he said

with the cheap fruit and the terrifying reali

s I looked at the black-and-gold emblem, a single question burned