"Inches for truth," he had said, cocking his head to the side once again, motioning to the floor just within reach. She nodded and he proceeded, "The Warlords' rules, what were they?" Agassiz licked her cracked lips and whispered, "No one shall love, show affection, marry or create life." He nodded, and stepped closer, "And how long have you broken his orders with Jarron?" She looked down and whispered again, "Over a year." He reached over to the rope that held her chained hands suspended in the air and untied it, and let her down just enough to where she could put weight on the balls of her feet, but not enough to relief any of the numbness in her arms. "And "Evil" didn't know?," He asked. "No, she was too far up Marca's ass to notice," she had spat at him. "And why do you keep questioning her name?" He chuckled and smiled letting her down a little more. "Because it's not her real name. Her name is Scylla. Your precious Jarron and Warlord hold a memory block on her." He shrugged his shoulders and said flatly, "Wonder why?" When she didn't answer him he continued, "I'll have you know that they are indeed both alive. I let Scylla go and she didn't even bother to look for you. She did drag Jarron out but probably only because she passed him on the way out. They've returned to the Warlord by now and I'm assuming Jarron has accepted her story of what happened and you're dead to them now."
He had purposely left out the part of how he had raped her over and over and that she needed Jarron to keep her alive if Marca found out. If he were ever to let Agassiz go, he would need her to hate Scylla and Jarron so that if the time came she could be counted on to take care of them. She had hung her head, heartbroken, and he had smiled again and let her all the way down, and her numb body crumpled to the floor in utter despair. Satisfied with the seed he had planted he had left her to dwell on what had transpired in the past few days.