The first grey light of dawn was already seeping under the curtain when the final knocks came. Arjun had not slept. The mattresses still covered most of the floor. Eighteen lengths of rope lay coiled. The leather belt hung from the chair. A new bottle of coconut oil stood open. Two empty collars waited on the table beside the sixteen already fastened around the throats of the girls who had just left only hours earlier—and who were now returning with the last two.

Eighteen soft knocks.