‘I’ll fuck you up,’ Cato spat before she could stop herself, her voice hoarse as it left her lips— words scraping past raw throat and it caused her to cough, the raspy noise echoing through the room. ‘I don’t doubt that for a second.’ A pause, as Vitali Dobrynin reached into his pocket and took out a key, then reached for Cato’s wrist and— respectfully keeping his hands to himself— freed her from her restraints. ‘Cato Wu,’ he said, grabbing a chair from the side of the room and setting it down next to the surgery bed while Cato slowly sat up a second time, carefully now, allowing the dizziness to settle before she moved any further. ‘How’d you know my name?’ ‘I have my ways.’ ‘Right— fixer.’ ‘Do I sense contempt?’ Cato sucked in her cheeks and raised her hand, mockingly putting her thumb and the tip of her index finger a mere millimeter apart. ‘Thiiis much. Pinky promise.’