Asuma looked at her profile, cut from the darkness by a thin slice of moonlight shining through a grating set too high to reach, and swallowed down nausea. Covered it with a crooked, aching smile. Blood slid down his cheek.

Thought they'd killed you, he didn't say. It probably wasn't her.

He was going to lose his mind if another pretty girl had died on his watch. Natsumi had been near-miss enough.

"What's your dog called?" he rasped, resigned to hearing the wrong answer. Desperate that it wouldn't be.