I’m not sure if it’s my tone or the question itself that shocks the captain, but his head jerks in my direction. “Excuse me?”
“My father,” I press. “I’ve obviously never met him, and since he kind of just upped and abandoned my mother, leaving her all but a shell of a shifter, I’m curious if he was kinder to his people.”
“He is the greatest leader the demons ever had.” Tyrus thumps a hand against his chest. “It’s been an honor to serve him, and there is none who could take his place.”
If that’s not a subtle diss toward my demon brethren, then I don’t know what is.
“As for your mother,” he continues, “I have no idea why the King chose to mate with an Earthling. None of it makes sense.”
Even with the current crapshoot that is my life, my mother is never far from my mind. She is a slice of pain in my chest, mingling with the pain over my sisters. As far as I’m aware, there’s no way for me to check on her well-being from here, and it’s only the hope that Koda’s spell should have lifted, allowing her to return to consciousness, that keeps me functioning. My hope is that Athella and the eagle shifters will continue to care for her, at the times when she can’t care for herself.
Trusting the eagle shifters is far easier than I expected, after the many years of Vegas supernaturals treating us like scum. We finally found an ally in the tall and handsome eagle alpha, Dastian. Taniya might have found even more—but he’s beyond our reach now.
All of Earth is. Unless my father can be found. After all, the Elimination is only happening because he disappeared.
“Do you have any idea what happened to him?” I ask Tyrus.
The light beam turns to the left and drops down a level, my stomach momentarily bouncing around before it calms. Once again, I convince myself that it’s taking us out of here. It’s all I can do to stay calm since I have no control over it whatsoever.
“No one knows.” Tyrus sighs. “He went to bed as normal, but when he missed his early-morning sparring session, I went to check on him, only to find his room completely untouched. It was as if he vanished before he even made it to the bed.”
“And I take it Crone is in charge in his absence before these trials are complete?”
The tension in Tyrus’s shoulders increases. “Crone is the oldest demon alive, an oracle of sorts. In order to preserve the Balance, she stepped in to maintain order. Otherwise, Chaos would already reign.”
Tyrus’s voice suddenly echoes around us, a weird rippling sound.
Chaos… chaos… chaos…
Judging by the way his head jerks around and he suddenly grips his spear, the sudden echo is as unexpected for the demon soldiers as it is for me.
“What the fuck was that?” Tyrus growls.
His focus zeros in on the far end of the beam that stretches straight ahead of us down a new hallway—and I wonder if we’re finally heading toward the exit—but we suddenly jolt downward again, veering away from the silver room waiting for us.
My stomach drops once more, the soldiers behind us wobble before regaining their balance, and Tyrus tenses beside me. Only my demon wolves seem unaffected by the sudden drop. Their heads are tipped back, each focused on a different spot on the walls around us.
When we were traveling toward the cell where my sisters will stay, the light beam sped us along hallways and around bends, even dropping levels like we were riding a roller coaster, but now I follow my wolves’ line of sight, taking note of the way they follow the shifting, glinting metal walls that surround us on all sides.
The breath stops in my throat.
For a moment, it looked like the walls themselves were moving. As if it’s not the light beam that’s in motion, but the prison itself.
Impossible… Maybe?
Tyrus snaps a quick order at the soldiers. “Stay alert. The prison must be reconfiguring its maze.”
My eyes widen with surprise.Maybe not so impossible.
“What do you mean, it’s reconfiguring itself?” I ask, demanding answers as Tyrus and his men take up a formation that looks like an arrow—Tyrus and me at the head while the others fan out behind us, staying well away from my wolves.
“This building is not static,” Tyrus says. “From the outside, we see it shift, sometimes multiple times a day. The entire building transforms its structure at random intervals. Either this is a random shift, or it’s intending to box us in.”
His accusing gaze clashes with mine, as if I’m at fault for taking precious seconds to say goodbye to my sisters.
“Which is more likely?” I ask, my question clipped. It’s impossible not to be affected by the tension rising among the soldiers.
Tyrus’s black eyes darken. “It’s trying to trap us.”
