Page 100 of Devotion

With your fucking life.

This time his eyes bug out of his head.

“You lie.”

“You wish.” I toss him a small object. The auctioneer pales.

“Where did you?—”

“From your office desk last night. When I broke into your safe.”

“You…There’s a reason we banned you bastards from our country.”

“Iamthat reason.” I chuckle, holding my fingers around my eyes like glasses.

“I should kill you where you stand…” he squeaks, rage shaking through him.

“But you won’t,” Vanya snaps, crossing her arms. Her expression indicates that this little charade is over.

“No. I won’t,” he grits out.

“Except you kinda will. And you even get to save face with your men. They’re going to think you are a badass after tonight. Vanya, if you would do the honors…” I brace myself.

She clips the edge of my forehead with a sharp blow, spraying blood across my face. Grunting in agony, I fall against the door.

The next several seconds pass in self-imposed violence as the auctioneer stands there aghast.

“Now…” Vanya growls, wiping blood from her lip. “Tell me what you know about a man in a black mask. Mocro symbol on the forehead.”

If he was shaken up by our behavior before, at this question he blanches.

“They…they are…” He shudders, his voice dropping to a panicked whisper. “All I know is that they are demons. Spirits of death. Indentured to the head of the Mocro. His servants.”

He glances around as if expecting one to appear.

It’s all he’s going to give us.

Storming to the door, he jerks it open, signaling to his men. Two of them guide us out, looking rather pleased with our roughed-up state.

He walks with us through the maze of underground tunnels, leading to an ancient, wrought iron gate. A guard throws it open, shoving us out.

The auctioneer waves for them to wait as he steps out into the dark alley. “Let this be a lesson. Never show your faces here again, am I clear?”

“Y-you bastard,” Vanya snarls, holding her arms to her sides. The guards inside sneer, nodding amongst themselves. She almost looks like someone had their way with her in a back room.

Oh. Wait. I did.

I spit at his feet, looking far worse than Vanya, my white shirt and jacket torn and dyed red in my blood. “You’re sick!”

Some of our demeanor must have rubbed off on the guy, because he backhands me in perfect form, sending me to the ground. I really need people to pull some punches today.

Leaning over me threateningly, he whispers, “What about the contents of my safe?”

“They’ll be there when you go to check,” I mumble mysteriously, staggering to my feet and clutching Vanya as we hurry down the alley.

“You son of a bitch!” I hear him yell as soon as we are around the corner, this time in all seriousness.

“I can’t believe he actually thought I broke into his safe.”

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