“Yes.” Nita loosened her grip and twirled the crushed flower. “And we’ll have to be careful about mentioning your father too.” He stiffened, whole body going rigid, eyes widening. Like a poorly oiled puppet, his head jerked to face her, and he whispered, “Pardon?” “Your father.” Nita tilted her head to one side as her fingers played along the petals. “Quite the bigwig, I hear. Knows all the monsters.” Fabricio swallowed and replied carefully, “Where did you hear about my father?” “The market I was sold in, of course.”
