<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff9999">Castelis’s hands around his wrists were the only thing keeping her from choking, simply from gravity alone. Illian had chosen her because she was one of the best, and even he had admitted, reluctantly, that it would only be a matter of time before she was caught. But nothing she found was of any help. And as time went on, there was less and less to drive a wedge between them. She only had to make it out of here alive. And she could get back to her real work. </span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff4d4d">“Five years ago. The Varcovia incident. You owe me.”</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff9999"> she said, careful and measured words, her eyes narrowing. </span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff4d4d">“Let me walk out of here alive.” </span>