“That’s why the kidnappers are demanding more money. They don’t think Arcus is negotiating in good faith. And he doesn’t think they are, seeing as they’re not providing proof-of-life photos anymore.”

I groaned and shook my head. “A tragic situation, to be sure,” I granted. “But I don’t understand what any of this has to do with me.”

“I want to send you in. To get her.”

I shook my head gravely and put a fist to my chest. “I cannot be relied on. I could die at any moment—my time is near. I won’t let you put me in a position where my death could injure teammates.”

Royce licked his lips. “I . . . wasn’t going to send anyone else.” I blinked and reared back. “It’s almost a guaranteed suicide mission, Nine. And you could just be going in to bring back a corpse. But hey, I figured since you were already dying . . .”

His voice drifted as I understood his math. I hissed at him before continuing. “Here,” I said, using my arms to illustrate the surroundings. “The way I’m supposed to. Not in some firefight in a place that is not my own.”

“Ahh.” He leaned forward dramatically. “But they’re keeping her inside the Threadstone Mountains. Isn’t that where you came from or something?”

The Threadstone were Arachnaea’s ancestral homeland. “Nice to know you listened, once upon a time.”

“I pay attention more often than you think,” he said with a wicked grin. “Some of Shiranak’s drones got some footage out—they were two days’ travel deep.”

“That means nothing. The Threadstone . . .” I began, but my voice drifted. I’d never been “home” personally, but I remembered all of my mother’s tales from her childhood, before she’d been abducted and brought to “civilization” several centuries ago, to spin silk for wealthy individuals. She’d always said the system of caves and caverns was massive, that you could spend your entire life walking or climbing underground and still not come out on the other side.

I had no idea if she was telling the truth, or if those were just stories meant to entertain me, as a child.

“So?” Royce prompted. “Is there any chance you might consider going back there to die? Isn’t it more magical or something?” I clicked at him again and he blew me off. “Look, you can’t blame a guy for hoping when ten million dollars are on the line,” he said. “It’s not even the money, Nine. The money’s temporary. But having one of the richest men on the planet owe the Monster Security Agency? That shit’s worth a solid gold toilet.”

I looked him up and down. “You are but a fragile human. You couldn’t carry a solid gold toilet—why would you want one?”

He tried to read my face, his round eyes squinting. “I can’t tell whether or not you’re joking sometimes—it bugs me, no pun intended.”

“I was making a joke. And—none taken.”