He fought to sit up, wiggling around like a worm. Rope burned against bare flesh, each heart beat thunderous in his ears. He licked his lips. For a brief moment he closed his eyes trying to calm his nerves; which turned out to be a horrible idea when voices carried down from above.
“What exactly are you planning on doing with him?” Io recognized the voice as belonging to Barton, Ran’imy’s best friend and comrade in scummery, if that was even a word.
“Something that should have been done long ago,” Ran’imy replied, her words dripping with contempt. “He’s insufferable and Cinder refuses to see the threat he poses to the family. So I will see to it that Io is disposed of, properly.”
There was a moment of silence, Io thinking perhaps they’d walked further off.
Then Barton spoke again. “You’re planning to…kill him?”
“It really is for the best, dear.”