“How much money did he take from you?” she asks. “I’ll pay you back every cent.” My father looks at her, his eyes dark as flint. “Money can’t repay what was taken,” he says. Nix trembles under his stare, but she holds his gaze. “What can I offer, then?” she says. “You can offer yourself,” my father says. “Your mind, your body, your soul, your loyalty, your life . . . to my son.” Nix turns to look at me, and for some reason, it’s harder for her to meet my eyes. She bites her lower lip, her head bowed, hair hanging down over her face. I cross the space between her and tilt up her chin so she has
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