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"But justice wasn't all they promised you. How much?"

I look out the window.

"Athena. How much?"

"5 million. All right. If it makes you feel any better. Clearly, I'm not going to get any of it now."

"Damn," Dimitri says and leans back in his chair. "I'm worth at least 10. 15 maybe."

"Well if it was that much I probably would have been able to do it," I say. Then immediately realize I'm talking about killing someone.

"Sorry, I didn't mean that."

He doesn't respond.

"I can tell you right now John G. isn't trying to help you. He's using you to get to me, or my family."

"Why would he care about your family?"

"Money. Power. Revenge. Take your pick." Dimitri's voice is flat. "But it has nothing to do with justice for your father. As a matter of fact," he says and glances over at me, "I think it has everything to do with mine."

"Your father?" I ask, surprised.

"Your feet are bleeding," he says suddenly.

I glance down, seeing the smears of blood on the floor mat.

"They're fine."

"They're not." He reaches into the bag behind the seat, pulls out something, and hands it over.

"Here," he says, handing me some tissues.

I stare at them and then at him. It's hard to believe someone like him is capable of any type of kindness, and maybe it's not that, but it's something. An acknowledgment, maybe. Of my pain, of my existence.

"Thank you," I say, taking them.

He doesn't respond.

Dimitri watches me from the corner of his eye as I dab my feet, the tissues soaking up the blood.

"I still hate you," I say, needing to remind myself.

The corner of his mouth curls, not quite a smile. "I didn't think some tissues would sway you."

We ride in silence for a few minutes.

Finally, I can't help it.

"Can I ask you something?"

He cuts a glance toward me. "Go ahead."

"Why didn't you kill me?"

He doesn't blink, just looks back at the road.

"I mean. I drugged you. Lied to you. Had you chained up and delivered to men who would've shot you dead. Why didn't you end it when you caught me?"