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I knelt, motioning for the others to follow, their eyes still surveying the sky through tiny gaps. All but one pair.

Rika’s focus was on me. “Can we hide? Wait for the sun?”

Whoosh.

“Hours. You’re talking hours of shielding.”

Rika balked, “It’s that or running blind through the seventh level of hell, while being pursued by a godsdamned dragon and shielding.”

My spine straightened, my mind catching on a theory I shoved aside because Balorath was coming back.

Whoosh-whoosh. The rumbling voice was still distant, but growing ever closer as it bellowed, “Oh cooockroooach, come out and play!”

“Shield,” I warned as a roar of flame punctuated his last word. We reinforced the barrier as shadow fire swallowed it whole. I met Magnolia’s wide eyes through whips of blackness wrapped around us, a sphere of midnight and chaos.

“How thoughtful of the cockroach to bring more snacksss,” the thing hissed as it passed.

I couldn’t be certain in the low light, but the blood seemed to drain from her face, her mouth parting at the telltale sound of a long inhale, the whoosh of a harsh wingbeat as it soared directly overhead.

Scenting us.

Oh, fuck.

A predatory sigh confirmed my hunch, the next beat of its wings crushing the brambles against our shield. “Mate,” the thing growled, low and promising death. “Where is the renegade?”

Normally, I’d split us up.

Normally, I’d send Brody and Jason out in a false split and create a kill zone—easier said than done with this small a group.

But it didn’t want us dead. This was a game. If annihilation were the goal, it would’ve landed, thorns be damned. Torn through the thicket. Crushed us.

Which meant the endgame was something else entirely.

Someone else entirely.

And it wanted her alive.

At least for now.

Crawlers and second-hierarchy demons thrived on chaos, but on the rare occasions I’d faced a first-hierarchy beast, they wanted something else—control. Fear was their favorite tool. And this one knew exactly what Mags and I were to each other.

Which meant its strategy was isolation and manipulation. Use me to get to her. Or vice versa. Didn’t matter which.

“Pretty little priestesssss,” it hissed, “Daughter of death and darkness, I just want to talk, come out and play!”

A game.

A game we could opt into or out of.

A gamble. A steep fucking gamble.

Luckily, I’d always been a betting man. My money was on its ego. A creature that powerful would expect us to scatter like prey. Expect us to buckle.

A familiar chuckle echoed in my mind, Ansel’s certainty ringing out, Hold the fucking line.

“Brace,” I ordered, “It’s coming back.” No sooner had I said it than the brutal flap of wings sent the branches buckling, another wave of shadow fire shuddering against the shield, branches crumbling, wilting, the air between us becoming unbearably hot. Rika whimpered, flinching like she’d bolt, but I was faster.

I wrapped a hand around her backpack strap, yanking her to the ground between us.