“And then what happened? After you saw Weston’s body?”
Isaac licked his lips, setting his coffee down. It felt like acid in his stomach. “I woke up tied to a chair. I found out I was taken by a demon named…” He paused. There was no going back after this. The Sentinels would truly be Enemy Number One the moment the words left his lips.
“Named?” Sloan prompted coldly.
He had no other choice. It was wrong to lie, and Sloan would know if he did. “Talon.”
Sloan’s face smoothed with understanding. “Hawk’s demon.”
“Yes.”
“Why? What did they want?”
“They wanted to know our plans for them. They wanted to know why I had been reporting to you about the dissenters. Apparently, Talon was dealing with Weston and overheard our conversation outside the prison that morning.”
Sloan turned away, his hand clenching into a fist. “We have to find a way to renew the wards here. It’s notsafe. He could be neither the first nor the last demon to sneak past our defenses.” He returned his sharp gaze to Isaac. “What else?”
“N-Nothing, that’s mostly it.” He couldn’t tell Sloanthey’d tortured him without raising the question of why he had no wounds. Admitting he’d been given demon blood, even unwillingly, would likely have consequences he would rather risk lying to avoid. “The humans in the group wouldn’t let them do much actual torture. They starved me instead. I think they probably would’ve tried other, more painful tactics if I’d stuck around long enough.”
“And how did you escape?”
Isaac’s throat bobbed. “Tonight, they had only one demon on duty while the rest went home to get some rest. I waited until he took me to the bathroom to let me relieve myself and shower. I made my move then. Hit him over the head with the toilet tank lid and ran. Hailed the first cab I saw and begged him to let me pay him when I arrived. God was truly watching over me tonight.” The words stung his throat as they left, and he ignored the spike of pain in his chest. He couldn’t explain where it came from. He told himself he was just tired.
“Where was this place located? Where were they holding you?”
Isaac met Sloan’s eyes. Cold crept down his spine. Something in him wanted to resist, but resisting would hurt. He came back here because staying with the guild was the right thing to do. Telling Sloan where they could be found was theright thing to do… wasn’t it?
“Paladin Morrow,” Sloan said sternly. He wouldn’t accept anything but the truth.
Isaac’s gaze fell. “They’re working out of an old skating rink. I don’t know exactly where.” He rattled off a few of the street signs he remembered seeing on his mad run to the nearest crowded area, ignoring the uneasy twist in his gut.
Sloan studied him for a long, unnerving moment. “And what else?”
Isaac blinked up at him. “What?”
“There’s something else. You lie very well, Isaac, but it’s actually your lack of tells that gives you away.”
Sloan’s eyes were too piercing, and Isaac frowned down at his cooling coffee. “They didn’t just starve me. They tried other things to get me to talk. At least I think that’s what they were doing.”
“What other things?”
Isaac wilted. Admitting what Shadrach had done to him was admitting a weakness. Admitting he’dliked it. He would be shamed and punished. Hawley would be beside himself that Isaac had let a demon defile him. Maybe they would banish him. Maybe they would kill him.
Maybe he would deserve it.
“They tempted me,” he rasped. “They told me to leave the guild, that I could stay there and work with them. One of the demons, he—he wanted to touch me. Make me feel things.” His face burned, and he didn’t dare look up at Sloan.
Sloan hummed. His calculating expression didn’t change. “You did right by resisting and returning to us. Tonight, I want you to go up to your apartment and rest. Tomorrow, you’ll go to Hawley and confess to everything. Every dark thought, every temptation. He will absolve you of your sins.”
A little shiver went down Isaac’s spine. “Yes, Commander.”
He stood stiffly, saluting and turning away so Sloan couldn’t read the anguish on his face. Outside the apartment, he pushed open the door to the nearest stairwell and walked up the concrete steps in a daze. It felt like there wasa hook in his chest, trying to pull him in the wrong direction.
He ignored it.
His apartment was cold and quiet. He’d been here not long ago, but it seemed like years. He scarcely felt like the same man he’d been two days ago. Letting Shadrach touch him had cracked something open inside him, and he didn’t know how to glue it back together.
In the darkness, he kicked off his sneakers and trudged to the bed. He sat down, braced his hands on the edge of the mattress, and stared at the floor between his feet.
