---
His movements were efficient, but each motion carried tension — as if part of him wanted to rip his own hands off for obeying, and another part of him had already accepted the leash wrapped around his blood.
Auri watched him closely, expression unreadable.
Sekhmet waited until the hall fell into a stable silence.
Only then did he speak.
His voice was calm.
Not loud.
Calm was worse than loud in a place like this, because calm meant control.
"How many," Sekhmet asked, "are you?"
Raka answered immediately.
"Fifty-three," he said. "Including me."
Sekhmet's gaze sharpened slightly.
"Only fifty-three," he repeated.
Raka's mouth tightened, as if he disliked admitting weakness in front of men who used to worship his strength.
"We had more," Raka said. "Over a hundred."
Sekhmet leaned back slightly in the stone seat.
"Where did they go," he asked.
The thugs shifted uneasily.
A few glanced at each other.
Some looked down.
Raka's jaw tightened further.
