"People are chess pieces," Moreau replied matter-of-factly, her golden eyes gleaming in the amber light. She brushed a strand of jet-black hair from her face, revealing that unnerving smile that never quite reached her eyes. "The only question is whether you're the one moving them or being moved. You've simply chosen to flip the board rather than admit defeat."
Pierre tasted copper as he wiped blood from his split lip. His ribs screamed in protest with each breath, and the cavern seemed to spin at the edges of his vision. Not good. Really not good.
"Maybe," he admitted, fighting to keep his voice steady. "But now we're all stuck down here together. Your perfect plan, your careful manipulation, your overwhelming advantage—none of it matters anymore. We're all just people trapped in a hole."
