Michael Helwart pushed the tray closer, the porcelain bowl of congee steaming gently between them. His voice, when he spoke, was unnervingly calm, devoid of its usual cutting edge. "Do you want me to feed you?"

Linsy stared at him, the question so absurd it barely registered. She didn't believe for a second he would follow through. It was a hollow gesture, a performance of care in the aftermath of his cruelty.

"I don't want to eat," she stated, her voice cold and flat. She turned her face ...