Isaac knew that tone all too well. Calm on the surface while underneath something boiled and writhed and wanted to tear the world apart just to hear it scream.
“Wait—” Isaac started, but Marcus’s hand was already on his shoulder, turning him toward the door.
Isaac’s sass died in his throat at the look in Whichello’s eyes. It wasn’t anger, which would’ve been better. This was calculation, the look of someone deciding exactly how much pain would produce the desired result.
“We’ll talk later.” Whichello said like it was a coffee date, like Isaac wasn’t about to be unmade in stages. The demon was already moving back to the window like Isaac had ceased to exist. “Once you’ve had time to remember who you belong to.”
Everything in Isaac pulled tight.
“Fuck you.” His mouth was firing before survival could catch up. He snarled at Whichello as Marcus yanked him toward the door. “I hope you choke on your smug satisfaction, dickhead.”
He scowled when Whichello simply winked at him, wearing that exact smug expression Isaac wanted to shove down the demon’s throat. “Far worse has been wished upon me, little panda.”
For a second, Isaac could’ve sworn he’d seen apology and regret in Whichello’s eyes. This place had to be messing with Isaac’s brain. Men like Whichello didn’t do regret, and they damn sure didn’t apologize. They demanded and took what they wanted, uncaring whose lives they destroyed.
And that was what hurt the most.
The blue room turned out to be exactly that. Blue walls, blue carpet, blue furniture. It looked like someone had murdered a Smurf village and used it for interior decorating. A bed, a chair, a small bathroom. No windows. One door that locked from the outside with a definitive click. That sound was judge, jury, and jailor, sentencing Isaac to life without possibility of ever being free again.
Chapter Two
Now that Isaac was alone, his hands finally shook properly. His knees gave serious thought to joining them, but he made it to the bed before he collapsed.
Patting his pockets, he nearly sobbed with relief when his fingers found his phone. They hadn’t searched him. Either Whichello was getting sloppy or he wanted Isaac to have it. Neither option felt particularly comforting.
Three bars of signal because, apparently, the demon realm had better coverage than half of California.
Danny’s number stared back at him from the screen. It was the lifeline he couldn’t use. Because Danny would burn the world down the wrong way. Would probably try something stupidly heroic like calling the police, as if human cops could figure out how to get into the demon realm, let alone rescue him from this gothic mansion.
No, he needed someone who understood this world. Someone scarier than Marcus and Dimitri combined. Isaac couldn’t think of a single person. The realization sat like a dead weight inside him.
Outside, something flew past the window that definitely wasn’t a bird. The eternal twilight pressed against the glass like it wanted inside.
Whichello would be back. The man was nothing if not disciplined.
Isaac had to find a way out before that conversation happened. Before Whichello decided that sixteen months of freedom needed sixteen hundred years of punishment to balance the scales.
Standing up required convincing his legs that they were functional limbs and not Jell-O sculptures.
Walking to the window, Isaac stared out into the demon realm, noticing how far up his room was. Using the window to escape wasn’t an option.
Maybe there was something else. Some other way out that wouldn’t involve waiting for Whichello’s return.
The last time he’d been held in one of these rooms, Isaac had found a secret passageway. That’s how he’d escaped the first time. Every room in this mansion connected to servant passages.
Isaac shook away the thought of how he’d ended up here the first time, of how he’d been sold in an auction to Whichello. It had been the most terrifying moment of his life, yet the demon had surprised Isaac when he hadn’t tried to have sex with him.
Whichello had simply tossed Isaac into a bedroom after the purchase. For three weeks the demon had acted as if he’d forgotten about buying a human being. But Isaac knew that wouldn’t last, not when someone had paid an exorbitant amount of money for you.
But Isaac had found the passageway before Whichello could lay a finger on him.
And he was going to escape the same way this time too.
His fingers traced along the wall, feeling for a seam. There, beside the mirror, hidden under decades of paint. The panel stuck at first, probably hadn’t been used since Isaac left. But desperation was amazing motivation, and it finally gave way with a soft click.
The passage beyond smelled like dust and ancient secrets Isaac would never be privy to. If he had to sneak through creepy spaces, he wished he could find a lost city or, at the very least, a small trove of treasure.
There weren’t any lights in the passageway, so Isaac’s phone flashlight would have to do.
