"At the cost of our pride." Trisha's voice was flat. "And our pride is already in pieces on the floor of that content studio, so I'd say we're getting it cheap."
Brittany pressed her face into her knees. Her shoulders shook once, then again, and Trisha reached over and put a hand on the back of her neck and held it there.
"I hate this," Brittany whispered.
"I know."
"I hate her."
"I know."
Brittany lifted her head. Her face was swollen and her eyes were raw and she looked at the phone on the floor between them like it was a loaded weapon.
She picked it up and dialed.
...
Nyx's phone buzzed against her hip. She pulled it out, glanced at the screen, and answered without straightening from the railing.
"We accept," Trisha's voice said. Tight. Cold. The sound of a woman swallowing glass.
"And Trisha?"
Silence.
"Smart choice. We begin in an hour. You're to arrive by then. I'll notify the guild to let you in."
The line went dead. Nyx slipped the phone back into her pocket.
