'Because I want to be. Because I want him. Because I am his bitch. Because I have accepted it.'
'Have I accepted it?'
'I do not know anymore.'
Viktor, still holding her wrist, spoke. His voice was warm. Protective. The voice of a man defending his property.
"Don't say anything to my darling," he said. The endearment, directed at Johana but referring to the mother-in-law, was a statement of ownership. "She is mine. Whatever she is, however she is dressed, whatever she has done. She is mine."
Johana looked at him. At the hand on the wrist. At the mother-in-law, trembling and compliant. At the contrast between the strong, calm man and the broken, willing woman.
She sighed. The sound was long. Heavy. The sigh of a woman who recognized defeat. Who recognized that the fight, whatever it had been, was over.
"What do you want?" she asked. Her voice was flat. Resigned. "Information? Access? Intelligence? What is your price?"
