The pounding on the door thundered like a heartbeat, angry and insistent. Metal against metal, flesh against steel. Orders barked through the barrier, voices sharp with authority and that particular brand of military panic that tried to disguise itself as control.
"Division Security! Unlock this door immediately! We have authorization to use force!"
My legs trembled, threatening to buckle. The hollow space inside me where my demonic power had lived now ached like a phantom limb. I couldn't command anything right now… not a demon, not my own body, not the goddamn coffee maker.
"Open it," I managed, voice raw. "We need to contain her properly. This room won't hold."
Grayson's eyes met mine, steel gray and worried. Are you sure?
I nodded. No energy left for the telepathic bond. Just bone-deep exhaustion and the bitter taste of failure coating my tongue.
Kearan reached for the emergency override, his fingers dancing across the keypad. The locks disengaged with a heavy clunk, and the door slid open.
Six Division soldiers poured in, weapons raised, faces hidden behind tactical helmets. Their movements were precise, practiced… until they spotted Cerbie. The hellhound hadn't moved, still guarding the possessed woman, all three heads tracking the newcomers with predatory focus. One soldier stumbled backward, his weapon wavering.
"Holy shit," he breathed. Another let loose a string of curses that would have made my father proud.
Their leader recovered faster than the others. "Stand down! We're taking the prisoner and the artifact. Director's orders."
Grayson shifted his stance, somehow making his lean frame fill more space. "The prisoner stays with us. Zandia's authority supersedes the director's."
"Bullshit," the captain snapped, but uncertainty flickered across her face. "We have direct orders?—"
"Call Zandia," I interrupted, summoning strength I didn't have. "She'll confirm. This demon is under my jurisdiction."
The captain's jaw worked, her fingers tight on her weapon. I could practically hear the calculations running behind her eyes… the risk of defying Zandia versus the comfort of following standard protocol.
Mephistral, still perched on my shoulder, cackled softly. "Ooh, I love watching humans squirm in bureaucratic limbos! It's like watching cockroaches try to solve a Rubik's Cube!"
The captain's radio crackled. She stepped back, murmuring into it, eyes never leaving mine. After a tense moment, she lowered her weapon slightly.
"Confirmed," she said, voice clipped. "The prisoner remains in ST3 custody. But we'll provide escort to the containment chambers." Her gaze flicked to Cerbie, then back to me. "And that... thing... stays with you at all times."
Relief washed through me, leaving me even more drained. "Thank you."
Grayson squeezed my elbow gently. You okay to walk?
I straightened, pulling away from Kearan's support. I wouldn't be carried out of this room. Not in front of the Division security. Not in front of anyone. "I'm fine."
He knew I was lying. They both did. But neither called me on it.
The possessed woman had gone eerily still now, her eyes tracking me like a predator watching wounded prey. The demon was still in there, lurking beneath the surface. Waiting. I could feel it, even without my power. Her presence was a cold spot in reality, a wrongness that made my skin prickle.
Two soldiers hauled her up, keeping her firmly restrained. Cerbie growled, all three heads in perfect, menacing harmony.
"It's okay, boy," I murmured. "Stay close."
The hellhound huffed, seemingly insulted that I'd think he'd do anything else. Or maybe irritated because I was making him heel when he really wanted to do was eat the possessed woman.
Our procession moved through the compound like a bizarre parade… armed soldiers flanking a demon-possessed woman in restraints, followed by two supernaturally gifted men, a swaying half-demon, a three-headed hellhound, and a tiny imp who kept making obscene gestures at anyone who looked our way.
The containment chamber was deep in the belly of the compound, sealed behind three separate security checkpoints. By the time we arrived, my vision had started to blur at the edges, darkness creeping in. I leaned against the wall, trying to look casual, while the soldiers transferred the woman into the specialized cell… A glass and steel cage carved with runes that glowed faintly blue.
"Will it hold?" I murmured, not entirely confident but too tired to voice my doubts.
"Better than anything else we've got." His voice was low enough that only I could hear it.
The cell sealed with a pneumatic hiss. The possessed woman pressed her freshly released palms against the glass, her expression placid now, almost serene, which contrasted with her earlier panic.
