Page 16 of The Demon's Secret Baby

June flinches, but Lamain stands his ground. "Volezimir, calm down-"

"Don't tell me to calm down!" I snarl, getting in his face. "You let her walk into a fucking death trap!"

"She volunteered," Lamain says, his voice tight. "We didn't force her-"

"You should've stopped her!" I shout, my voice echoing across the beach. The rescued captives shrink away, fear in their eyes. I don't care. All I can think about is Zylpha, alone and in danger.

"She's not a warrior, she's not a fucking spy! She's barely recovered from her own captivity, and you let her go back into that hellhole?"

"Volezimir, please," June pleads, her hand on her belly. "We didn't know-"

"You didn't know?" I laugh, the sound harsh and bitter. "Of course you didn't know! You didn't think! You just sent her off like some expendable pawn!"

I pace back and forth, my mind racing. "Do you have any idea what they might do to her? The kinds of monsters that prowl those docks?"

The images flashing through my mind make me want to vomit. Zylpha, chained and bleeding. Zylpha, screaming in pain. Zylpha, broken and lifeless.

"I should've been here," I growl, more to myself than anyone else. "I should've protected her."

"We couldn't have known-" Lamain starts, but I cut him off.

"That's shit! You know the risks. You know what's out there. And you let her go anyway!"

I turn back to the ship, my decision made. "I'm going after her. Now. And if anything's happened to her, I swear to all the gods-"

"Volezimir," Lamain's voice is firm now. "We'll find her. We have people at the docks every week."

June nods, stepping closer but not daring to touch me. "We'll get her back. She's resourceful. I'm sure she's okay." But even her hands are trembling.

And I think we both know it's a lie.

8

ZYLPHA

Iwake with a splitting headache, the world spinning as I try to focus my eyes. The first thing that hits me is the stench—a nauseating mix of salt, sweat, and despair. I'm in some kind of hold, the wooden planks creaking beneath me with each roll of the waves.

"Shit," I mutter, tugging at my wrists. Cold metal bites into my skin. I'm chained to the wall like a dog.

My eyes adjust to the dim light filtering through the cracks above. Bodies crowd the space around me, hunched figures with hollow eyes and tear-stained faces. Some whimper softly, others stare blankly ahead. We're all prisoners here.

I scan the hold, searching for anything I can use. My daggers are gone, along with the lockpicks I'd had tucked along my body. They've stripped me of everything useful.

The air is thick, almost suffocating. It reeks of piss and vomit, making my stomach churn. I swallow hard, fighting the urge to retch.

"Where are we?" I ask, my voice hoarse.

A woman beside me lifts her head. "Minotaur ship," she whispers. "And I doubt we are heading for Milthar."

My blood runs cold. I yank at my chains again, ignoring the pain as the metal digs deeper. There has to be a way out of this. I refuse to end up in another cage, to lose the freedom I've only just begun to taste.

The ship lurches suddenly, sending us sprawling. Someone screams. In the chaos, I catch a glimpse of our captors through the hatch above—massive, muscled forms with curved horns jutting from their skulls. Their laughter booms down to us, a reminder of how small and powerless we are.

I grit my teeth, anger burning away my fear. I've survived dark elf slavers and brutal slums. I'll be damned if I let these overgrown tauras beat me.

I work my fingers along the edge of my boot, feeling for the small pin I'd hidden there. My heart races as I fumble with it, praying to whatever gods might be listening that the minotaurs missed this one thing.

Got it. I almost sob with relief as I pull the tiny metal sliver free.

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