stepped into the well-lit cell. The prisoner inside locked eyes with her and
then scooted against the wall of open bars at the far end.
Beyond them was an empty circular space with an observation tower in
the center that magically monitored all the cells that encircled it. The prison
was a panopticon, more commonly known as the donut, for that reason.
“Stay back, you cursed woman!” the devil yelled.
I was glad to see him squirm. The Magic Side Gazette had nicknamed
him the Ripper for the way he tore his victims’ bodies apart. The last person
he’d murdered happened to be in the Dens, and though it wasn’t a pack
member, it had happened in our territory.
I flexed my fists, and my knuckles cracked with the anticipation of
breaking his nose.
“Quiet. We just want to talk,” Neve said coolly.
“Not with you in here.” His signature smelled like rotting corpses and
tasted of tar, and his body quaked with fear.
Amal shot forward and had her claws at his throat before he could twitch
a muscle. “Then you’ll talk to me. We’re looking for Kahanov. He got away
with you and the others on the night of the twenty-third. Any idea where he
might be?”
“You mean he’s still out there?” He let out a piercing cackle and clutched
his sunken chest. “The fates must have smiled upon him, then, because that’s
a surprise.”
“Oh, really? And why’s that?” Amal asked.
“Why would I give you information, filthy lycanthrope?” he snarled.
“Because if you don’t, I’ll ram my claws into your eyes and rip off your
balls. Then I’ll have my friend Neve here suck the breath from your lungs.”
Amal’s cheery voice betrayed the wrath she could unleash.
The devil’s eyes bulged, and he raised his hands in acquiescence.
“There’s no need for violence. I’ll tell you what I know, but maybe you’ll put
a word in with the guards on my behalf. I haven’t seen the sun in a month.”