So the deal's done.

My hand is still buzzing where he touched it. It was cold. Not just winter-cold, but wrong like touching a statue. It just sucked the heat right out of me.

Joachim Knight didn't just shake my hand, no, that was a branding. A final stamp. As if he was a king signing a death warrant or a life warrant. I'm still not sure which is worse. His grip was just this silent, heavy promise of all the control he had now.

Then Harris—Detective Harris—shuffled back in and ...