To sing?
Ewan swallowed painfully while maintaining a calm demeanor, a hundred percent sure that when Fiona mentioned "sing," it wasn't anywhere close to choral music.
No, she was talking about something else.
He darted a sharp look at Connor, his heart stilling when he saw the truth on the latter's face.
The idiot had done what he always did—spilled nonsense while torturing his victims!
Ewan usually didn't mind, because anyone he had entrusted to Connor's hands almost never made it out alive; those who did lost their tongues, paying heavily for Connor's loose mouth. But this was different. Athena was here now, and Fiona's tongue was still intact.
"If no one is going to talk, then Fiona, you should sing."
Athena's voice drafted Ewan's attention away from his thoughts, just as a cloud of anxiousness descended upon him.
What was his way out of this? How could he get Athena out of here without revealing his secret?
