Bas rejoins Persia, who’s been sitting stone still on the padded bench on the side of the room in Shai’s enormous basement this entire time, every bit as cold and unmoved as the treacherous, devilish cousins about to massacre his flesh. He takes one last look at the black ink upon his skin, the four numbers that mean nothing to some and everything to others, and both hates it and believes it with every fiber of his being.
