“Never said I did.” Dimitri took a step forward, and Isaac automatically stepped back, his shoulder blades hitting the wall beside the door. “Just said you should come to this house alone. And look at that, you followed instructions perfectly. No backup. No Whichello saving the day. Just you, walking right into exactly what I wanted.”
“You used Danny’s phone.” Isaac’s hands fisted, rage mixing with the terror. “You made me think he was in danger.”
“Borrowed his phone,” Dimitri corrected, pulling the device from his pocket and waving it like a trophy. “Found it in the bedroom, actually. He left it on the nightstand. Unfortunate for him, but convenient for me.”
Isaac lunged for the door, fingers closing around the knob and twisting hard. It didn’t move. Locked, or jammed, or held shut by shitty luck. He pulled harder, throwing his weight against it, but the door wouldn’t budge.
“Problem?” Dimitri’s voice came from too close behind him, and Isaac spun around, pressing his back against the wood.
The smart thing would be to panic. To scream and fight and make as much noise as possible in the hopes that Whichello would hear and come running. But something cold settled in Isaac’s gut, pushing down the terror until it became background noise. He’d survived his father’s abuse. Survived being sold at an auction. Survived a castle that tried to eat him. He could survive this.
“You went through a lot of trouble.” Isaac kept his tone even, blocking out everything else. “Stealing a phone, setting up this whole scenario, getting your friends here to help. Must’ve been a pain in the ass.”
“You have no idea.” Dimitri leaned against the wall opposite Isaac, mirroring his posture in a way that felt like mockery. “Ever since Whichello so rudely interrupted us in your tower room, I’ve been thinking about how to finish what we started.”
The memory tried to surface, hands pinning his wrists and lips on his throat, but Isaac shoved it down. Not helpful right now. He needed to think, needed to stall long enough for Whichello to realize something was wrong and come looking.
Had it been two minutes yet? It had to have been, so where was his mate?
“So what’s the plan?” Isaac pushed off from the door, taking a step toward the center of the room. “You kill me? Assault me again? Use me to get back at Whichello?”
“All of the above, probably.” Dimitri’s smile never wavered. “Though not necessarily in that order. I haven’t decided yet. Part of the fun is improvising.”
Isaac took another step, angling toward the hallway that led deeper into the house. Maybe there was a back door. A window. Any exit that wasn’t blocked by three demons who looked increasingly eager to start whatever Dimitri had planned.
Dimitri moved with him, matching each step like a shadow. The two other demons shifted position, cutting off the angles Isaac was trying to create. They moved in sync, like they’d practiced this. Probably had. Sick bastards.
“You know he’s going to kill you for this.” Isaac kept moving, kept talking, kept Dimitri’s attention on him instead of on listening for Whichello’s approach. “Slowly. Painfully. He’ll make it last for days.”
“Will he?” Dimitri took another step, and they were closer now, close enough that Isaac could see the gold flecks in his pale eyes. “Or will he be too busy mourning his dead boyfriend to bother with revenge?”
The casual mention of Isaac’s death should’ve terrified him. Probably would have, if his brain hadn’t already moved past terror into the cold clarity that came from knowing he was completely out of options. Running wouldn’t work. Screaming wouldn’t help. All he had was his mouth and his ability to make people angry enough to get sloppy.
“You’re scared of him.” Isaac stopped moving, planting his feet and meeting Dimitri’s gaze without flinching. “That’s what this is really about. You’re terrified of what he’ll do to you, so you’re trying to hurt him first. Through me.”
Something flickered across Dimitri’s face, there and gone too fast to name. “I’m not scared of anyone.”
“Liar.” Isaac took a step forward this time, closing the distance himself. “You’re scared because you know you can’t beat him in a fair fight. So you’re going after the one thing he cares about. That’s not strategy. That’s cowardice.”
Dimitri’s hand shot out, fingers closing around Isaac’s throat and slamming him backward into the wall. Air left Isaac’s lungs in a rush, black spots dancing across his vision. The grip wasn’t tight enough to cut off his breathing completely, but it was a clear warning of how easily Dimitri could if he wanted to.
“Careful, little panda.” Dimitri’s face was inches from Isaac’s now, breath ghosting over his skin in a way that made Isaac want to crawl out of his body. “You’re in no position to insult me.”
Terror flooded back in, drowning out the cold clarity that had kept Isaac functional. His hands came up automatically, grabbing Dimitri’s wrist and trying to pull the hand away from his throat. The demon didn’t budge, muscles like iron under Isaac’s fingers.
But Isaac was small. And small meant fast, meant flexible, meant knowing how to fight dirty because fair fights were for people who had the size advantage.
He brought his knee up hard, aiming for Dimitri’s groin. The demon twisted sideways and the blow struck his hip instead, but it was enough to make him loosen his grip. Isaac ducked under his arm then rolled across the floor.
He came up near the overturned coffee table, grabbing the first thing his hand found. A heavy ceramic Harry Pottter mug, the kind with a thick handle and enough weight to do damage. Not much of a weapon but better than nothing.
Dimitri turned to face him, and the amusement had drained from his expression. What replaced it looked hungry and cold and completely devoid of anything human. Or demon. Just predator, and Isaac was very clearly prey.
“That was a mistake.” Dimitri started forward, and the other two demons moved with him, spreading out to cut off any escape route Isaac might try for.
Isaac backed up, mug raised like it would actually help, his eyes tracking all three demons at once. The wall hit his shoulders, and he realized he’d run out of room to retreat. His heart tried to beat its way out of his body, each pulse painful against his ribs.
Dimitri reached for him again, and Isaac threw the mug as hard as he could. It hit the demon square in the face, ceramic shattering and drawing a thin line of blood across his cheek. Dimitri’s head snapped back, and for one beautiful second, Isaac thought he might actually get past him.
