Page 98 of The Monsters We Are

Azazel’s step faltered in the hallway as another sound reached him. A roar. A spinetingling, not-of-this-world roar. It was coming from somewhere beneath him.

He quickly tracked the sound, walking further down the hallway, finding himself approaching the elevator. A few men had already gathered outside it, since the new protocol was for the elevator to be guarded if the alarm went off.

Azazel took in each face. The men looked varying stages of disturbed. Who wouldn’t be? The roaring was still ongoing, interspersed with crunching sounds. A female cackle sounded, thick with an otherworldly power.Deity, he knew.

Azazel turned to one of the men. “Find Cain. Tell him we’ve located his consort. And be quick about it.”

The male nodded and then took off at a fast pace.

Licking his lips, one of the other men looked at Azazel. “What do we do?”

Azazel folded his arms. “We wait.”

Minutes went by before the roars and laughs stopped. Soon, the elevator whirred to life, moving upward.

The men shifted nervously, each holding orbs of magick.

Finally, the elevator smoothly came to a stop. A few seconds later, the shiny doors slid open. And there stood Wynter, a vision of blood and gore and battle-rage. Around her were crimson spatter, trails, and puddles. No bodies, though. Her monster had clearly devoured whoever had been stupid enough to tangle with her.

All dignity, she swiped aside her blood-stained bangs as she cleared her throat and stood back to give them room. “Going down?”

Azazel smiled. His friend’s consort was nuts. He liked “nuts”.

*

Stood in the middle of the street with Azazel while a livid Cain paced in front of the line of fey, Wynter slid her coven a quick look. They stood off to the side with a handful of aides—some in Cain’s service, some in Azazel’s—all seeming intent on remaining off her consort’s radar right now.

It had come as no surprise that Cain went postal on hearing of her attempted kidnapping. He was still in that state now. Well, it washisversion of postal—he hadn’t lost his composure, but he vibrated with a cold, deadly rage that was all the more frightening because it was so unnaturally controlled. Such rage fairly illuminated his eyes, so it was truly understandable that none of the fey would meet his gaze.

He’d been intent on questioning every member of her would-be-kidnappers’ court to be sure they weren’t in on the dumb plot. Considering no one would be stupid enough to admit to any guilt, it might have seemed pointless . . . but Cain was exceptionally good at picking up on lies.

They’d all pled ignorance, swearing they would never think to harm his consort. Wynter believed that the majority of them were in fact innocent. But there were a few whose claims didn’t quite ring true for her. Cain must have had the same suspicions, because he called for the aforementioned fey to step forward.

The three males didn’t so much take a step asshuffleslightly forward, sluggish and hesitant. The fey closest to the trio edged away from them, keeping their heads down.

One of the guilty opened his mouth to speak.

“Not a word,” ordered Cain, his voice the lash of a whip. “You lied to me. All three of you. You knew of the plot to kidnap my consort and deliver her to the Aeons.”

None denied it.Wise.There would have been no point.

“It matters not that you didn’t aid the two members of your court in trying to snatch her,” said Cain. “You could have reported the plan to me. Or to Wynter. Or to Azazel, since you are after all in his service. You could have warnedsomeone. You didn’t. You said nothing. Youdidnothing. And now, adding insult to injury, you dare lie to me to escape the punishment you deserve.”

The guilty fey practically curled in on themselves.

“It may interest you to know that, as part of your punishment, Azazel has invited me to partake in administering that punishment.”

Someone whimpered, and Wynter really couldn’t blame them. The Shelia incident had made it clear that the Ancients did not fuck around when it came to disciplinary action—particularly Cain. But Wynter felt no sympathy for the fey, because they’d known the risks when they’d held their tongue and they’d done it anyway.

His lips trembling, one of the guilty fey looked at Cain. “We’re—”

“Quiet,” Cain bit out. “There’s not one thing you could say that would make me spare you or lessen the agony I intend to subject you to, so shut. The fuck. Up.” He turned to Azazel. “I hope you won’t object to my wish not to kill themtooquickly.”

“Oh no, that’s good with me.” Azazel turned to his aides. “Take them to the dungeon.”

The aides were quick to obey, and they weren’t gentle about it.

Cain made a beeline for Wynter, his face cold and hard as granite. He swallowed up her personal space but didn’t touch her. “I might be a while.”

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