I felt home.
Brie was close. I could feel her. The closer I got, the stronger it pulled, until there was nothing else—no doubts, no pain, no memory of a life before this.
Just the promise.
Just the hunt.
Just the sure, unbreakable knowledge that nothing in this world—or the next—would stop me from finding her.
I grinned into the dark, and let the wolf have the reins.
Hell had never met Iron Valor before.
They were in for a surprise.
Chapter 26
Brie
Hell wasn’t the word I would have chosen. It was too poetic, too mythic—suggested fire and brimstone and all the cartoonish trappings of damnation, instead of what it actually was: rot, and rock, and the kind of darkness that stains even the thoughts in your head. Of course, this wasn’t hell. Not really. Not hell proper. It was a facsimile, like that bastard Maltraz. He wasn’t the devil. He was just the devil-lite; a minion of his, if you will.
I was chained to a chair so heavy the metal had worn a groove into the volcanic stone beneath it. The chair wasn’t bolted; it was the chains that did the work, crossing my chest, cinching my wrists to the arms and my ankles to the legs so tight I couldn’t even lean forward far enough to touch my knees together. There was no light except for the phosphorescent ooze running down the wall in greenish streaks, and the only sound—aside from the perpetual drip—was the low, scratchy rasp of Nazek and Adramal arguing somewhere just out of sight.
I’d stopped trying to keep track of time. It was impossible, even if you cared. Sometimes the cell was freezing cold, so much that the condensation on the stone froze in fractal patterns I would have found beautiful if I could see them without shivering myself into a seizure. Other times it was so hot the air itself turned syrupy, thick enough to choke. Right now, it was both:my feet had gone numb, but sweat kept dripping down the small of my back and pooling under my ass.
My dress was ruined. I’d lost count of how many times I’d wished for sweatpants, for literally any outfit that didn’t broadcast “victim of a demon gala kidnapping.” Sage green had been such a pretty color on the mannequin. Now it looked more like something a swamp threw up and left to ferment. My skin was raw where the manacles bit, my lips were split, and I was so thirsty that even the mold on the wall looked tempting.
But I was alive.
Barely.
I could feel Finn, even now. It wasn’t a voice, not a presence, just a tug—an itch deep in my chest that no amount of screaming, cursing, or yanking at the chains could dull. I clung to it. I let it lull me into hallucinations when the thirst got bad, let it replace my fear with anger when my mind started to slip. It had only been a day.
They hadn’t broken me yet. And if there was one thing I’d learned from the last two years of hell, it was that the world only breaks you if you let it.
A scraping sound, then a thud. I twisted my head just enough to see the flicker of movement in the gloom. Adramal, the demon with the face of a boxer and the attitude of a divorce attorney, was dragging Nazek by the collar, shoving him up against the wall. Their voices were low, urgent, barely above a hiss.
“She’s not worth it,” Nazek spat, baring teeth that were just a little too human. “Let them take her, Adramal. The Council’s going to level this place in twelve hours—less if Maltraz keeps drawing attention.”
“She’s worth everything,” Adramal shot back, his voice all gravel. “You know what happens if the king fails.”
“We’re not loyal to him. He’s already lost. We should run. Take what we canand—”
A slap, loud and sharp enough to echo. Nazek staggered, clutching his cheek, then reeled back to spit blood on the floor.
“I plan to set myself up to take his place,” Adramal growled. “Let’s prove our worth to the Council when they finish with Maltraz.”
Nazek snarled, but didn’t argue. He shot me a look—equal parts greed and pure, reptilian loathing—then stalked off into the dark.
Adramal lingered, watching me. His eyes were old, bruised with centuries of seemingly having it all; then having nothing. For a second, he looked almost sad.
“You could make this easier,” he said.
I gave him the best “fuck you,” smile my parched lips could manage. “You want easy? You should’ve picked a different team.”
He huffed a laugh, then melted back into shadow.
I didn’t know whether to feel vindicated or scared shitless. Probably both.
