Raphael found himself almost smiling at the way the bear shifter laughed too loudly as he spoke to his companion, at the number of glasses on the table in front of him, and at the way he leaned in close to the snake shifter and spoke. Every word seemed like a dare—a promise that the bear might be sleeping, but he was never truly tamed.
Raphael approached with deliberate confidence and slid into the booth beside the bear. The snake shot him a nervous look, but Darius only arched a bushy brow, his massive hand closing protectively around his half-empty glass.
“Got business, stranger?” Darius rumbled, his words slurred only slightly, but his gaze as clear and calculating as a predator sizing up its next meal.
Raphael let his magic seep out, slow and subtle, testing the edges of Darius’s mind. Where most mortals, and even some shifters, would have folded under the seduction, Darius’s aura felt like a wall—thick, unyielding, bristling with dormant power. Raphael pushed a little harder, feeling sweat bead at his temple with the effort.
“I’m in need of information, and a friend suggested I talk to you.” Raphael was obviously using the term “friend” very, very loosely as he let his gaze snap to the snake. “You mind?”
The snake shifter’s tongue flicked nervously. “It’s a free kingdom, even for demons.”
Raphael wasn’t surprised that the snake knew what he was, but if the snake had known what type of demon, he wouldn’t have been so eager to let Raphael join them.
Darius grunted, unimpressed, and not bothered at all by the fact that Raphael was a demon. A dominant male sure that he could handle himself against any threat, he spat, “Talk, then.”
Raphael leaned in, lowering his voice to a confidential murmur. “I’m looking for knowledge that Wolfgang has been less than stellar as a ruler of the Kingdom of Chaos. There’s rumors that he worked with Azure in human trafficking for the sake of Damarian males finding mates. And I hear you know things others don’t.”
Darius’s eyes narrowed. “You hear wrong. I know nothing worth knowing. And even if I did, I wouldn’t be handing it out to an incubus demon.” He smirked, tossing back a swallow of whiskey. “You Chaos types always think you can talk your way through anything.”
Raphael pressed harder, his magic slithering along the edges of Darius’s consciousness, probing for weakness. But the bear’s shifter magic—twisted as it was in this kingdom—resisted, stubborn and sluggish but formidable. Raphael felt like he was trying to seduce a mountain into moving.
He switched tactics, letting a note of genuine threat enter his tone. “I’m not here to play. You want to keep your head when the hammer falls, you’ll tell me what I need to know. Otherwise, you’re considered an accomplice, and I’ll make sure the shaman council knows. But, you give up information you know, I’llaccept that as a confession of admitting wrong doing and asking for grace.”
Darius snorted, but something in Raphael’s voice must have gotten through, because the big man set his glass down and glanced at the snake shifter, who quickly looked away.
“Fine, yes, I know about the dealings of our king and queen. It wasn’t much of a secret to those of us who’ve been waiting for mates for nearly as long as you’ve been alive.”
He paused and Raphael saw the desperation in the bear shifter’s eyes. Like every Damarian male, they longed for that connection. Some Chaos members, once mated, were finally able to fully shift. But that wasn’t a guarantee.
Darius continued. “Wolfgang and Talulla were trading females or money for females with KOV,” Darius muttered, voice lower now, the words weighted with resentment. Perhaps, regardless of his desperation, there was a part of him that wasn’t willing to gain a mate in such a way. “Azure ran the show—promised mates, sold hope to the desperate. A lot of us didn’t like it, but speaking up wasn’t healthy.”
Raphael studied him, watching for lies. “You have any physical proof?”
Darius’s lips twisted. “What? You mean like any of the females actually having been mated?” He shook his head. “What female, taken against her will, would want to be mated to a male willing to do that? I don’t know of any members in our kingdom that actually did get a mate from those dealings.” He glanced around the room, as if looking for anyone who might be paying them any attention. “Typically, I am a man who deals in information. It’s good leverage to have. But when it comes to females being harmed, there’s no charge. According to one of his closest guards, Wolfgang keeps records. Who knows what he planned to use them for. They’re in his office safe, behind the painting. Password’s his mate’s name, backwards.” He leaned in,breath warm and whiskey-soaked. “Don’t say I told you. You’re not the only one who can make people forget things.”
The bear shifter was already edging away, eyes darting. Darius slumped back, the tension in his frame bleeding out all at once as if the strain of resisting Raphael’s magic, and the risk of talking, had worn him down.
Raphael stood, scanning the room, his skin prickling with the sense of eyes on his back. The air crackled with a dark energy—too many secrets, too many predators. He moved to the stairs, Darius’s words echoing in his ears.
As he left the club, the city’s chaos pressed close—bright, brutal, and unyielding. But Raphael was burning with a new purpose. He had what he needed, and for the first time in a long while, hope didn’t feel like a cruel joke.
He set his jaw, heart thudding. If Visata was offering him a second chance, he would not miss it. Not with Miryam, not with this mission. Not this time.
Chapter Six
“Sometimes the greatest gifts can be found in the most dire situations. Like a rainbow that breaks through after a horrible storm, leading to a spark of expectation.”
~ Akira
The safehouse Nico had chosen was a far cry from the casino’s velvet excess. Tucked behind a nondescript door just off Fremont Street and disguised as the back office of a defunct dry cleaner, it was fully functional for short-term use with a small living area, kitchenette, and bedroom with two twin beds. It would do in a pinch. At the front of the building, beyond the wall that separated them, the only signs of life were the weary neon flicker of an “Open” sign in the window and the faintest hum of magic woven through the doorframe, a subtle shamanic ward to keep out anyone with ill intent.
Inside, the air was heavy with the scent of old detergent and something sweeter—jasmine, perhaps, clinging to the girls’ clothes from the flowers in the casino. The room was small withfaded pastel wallpaper curling at the seams and a battered sofa and mismatched chairs forming a misshapen circle.
Nico paced, his boots silent on the cracked linoleum. The adrenaline from the night’s heist still thrummed in his veins, but here, with the stakes so personal, it felt more like panic. He caught sight of himself in a warped mirror—spiked green hair, silver piercings, tattoos alive with shamanic energy—and didn’t quite recognize the man looking back.
Raphael leaned against the wall, arms folded, his inhuman beauty muted by exhaustion. The demon’s violet eyes were shadowed, haunted, but when he looked at Miryam, something gentler shimmered beneath the surface. And he’d hardly taken his eyes off the female since he’d arrived only a few minutes after Nico.
Akira took the chair farthest from the door that led to the front of the faux business and sat with knees drawn up, arms wrapped around them. She watched Nico with a gaze that was both wary and searching, as if she was waiting to see if he’d live up to the promise he’d made. Morgan perched on the arm of the sofa, protective and restless, her blue-streaked hair falling into her eyes. Miryam sat on the end of the couch, closest to Raphael, her shoulders drawn tight, but every so often, her gaze would flick to the demon’s face, and her posture would soften, just a little.
