Page 57 of Her Males

That’s bullshit.

I feel slightly better as I note that all the messages are along the left side of the screen. Do Silas and Aziel know about this? Gray’s ignored every one of her messages, but I still take my time to read through them.

I’ve never been more thankful for Rock’s lessons on the demon language.

Shay begs Gray to believe her. She promises she wants to help and this isn’t about me, and she’s even sent a few photos of documents that are too intricate for me to read. The blurriness tells me they were taken in a hurry, though.

I can even see the prominent profile of Levia in one. His eyes are cast downward at his computer, not paying attention to the female, who sneaks a photo over his shoulder.

She’s doing everything she can, and I can’t believe Gray’s ignoring her.

Angry tears fill my eyes, and I have half a mind to storm into the bedroom and demand answers. He’s just going to lie. That’s all they’ve been doing.

Do they actually intend to help the females, or are they just stringing me along to make their lives easier?

I wipe my cheeks before making sure the phone is on mute and typing out a message.

This is Charlie. They don’t believe you.

I wait, my leg bouncing and body shaking. I can’t believe them. This is probably really stupid—I’m fully aware of that—but I’m more than willing to take the risk. I’d rather die having tried my best to do what’s right than sit back and find out later I didn’t do enough.

Males are fucking enslaving us. We’re sold like cattle and passed around like toys, and I refuse to sit around doing nothing. We deserve better than this.

I bring the phone closer to my face as I wait for her response.

Talk in person. Do not scream.

Shay’s in front of me just as I finish reading the message, her hand held out. She wants to teleport me.

I gulp, hesitating, before setting Gray’s phone on the sink and curling my fingers around hers.

We materialize a second later in a large sitting room, and I release her hand the moment I’m steady. My heart is pounding in my chest, and I bring my fingers to my necklace in case she tries to make another grab for it.

I look up and gasp.

I’ve never seen anything like this before. The entire ceiling is glass, leading to a stunning view of the night sky with millions of bright stars.

“Mammon sure does love her décor,” Shay says, looking through the glass panes. “It’s a magnifying glass. That’s why the stars look so big.”

I clear my throat and force myself to look away, not wanting to get distracted.

“I have a rock I can kill you with,” I say, hoping my words sound threatening.

Shay looks unconcerned as she eyes the jewelry I clutch in my fist. “I’m aware, but you won’t be needing it. I have no intention of keeping you here longer than a few minutes. Your males are on edge, and I’m sure it won’t take them long to discover you’re gone.”

I dig my thumb into the stone, hoping she can’t hear my racing heart as I watch her turn and take a lap around the room. Why does everything she does have to be so ominous? We’re in a sitting room, but this one is better decorated than the one back home. The warm-toned rugs and large cushioned furniture make it feel cozy.

Along the walls are hundreds of photos, each in a different medium but portraying the same family—or at least parts of it. The woman and man in the images never change, but the children are almost always different.

A cold sweat breaks out along my back as Shay lowers herself into a chair and gestures for me to sit opposite her. I don’t immediately move. She lets out an impatient huff, which isn’t too surprising. I’ve never pegged Shay as an exceptionally patient woman.

I bite the skin inside my cheek as I step forward and sit in the chair opposite hers. As suspected, I sink right into the cushion.

“I’ve tried speaking to Mammon myself,” Shay says, “but she’s as stubborn as your males and refuses to believe me. I want you to talk to her. You don’t wear any marks, but everybody knows you belong to the Wrath Trio.”

The “Wrath Trio”? Is that what people call them? It’s fitting.

“You wantmeto talk to Mammon?” I ask.

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