But for now … one foot in front of the other. He could do that. If just for today.
Ithan walked to the door and pulled the leash off the hook on the wall beside it. “Want a walk?” he asked Syrinx. The beast rolled onto his side, as if saying, Belly rub, please.
Ithan slung the leash back onto its hook. “You got it, bud.”
“Approachable Asshole, huh?”
Bryce leaned against the bars of the immaculate cell beneath the Comitium, frowning at where Hunt sat on a steel-framed cot, head hanging. He straightened at her words, gray wings tucking in. His face— Bryce stiffened. “What the fuck, Hunt?”
Black eye, swollen lip, cuts along his temple, his hairline … “I’m fine,” he grumbled, even though he looked as bad as Ithan. “Who called you?”
“Your new boss—she filled me in. She sounds nice, by the way.” Bryce pressed her face through the bars. “Definitely nice, since she hasn’t kicked your ass to the curb yet.”
“She did put me in this cell.”
“Isaiah put you in the cell.”
“Whatever.”
“Don’t whatever me.” Gods, she sounded like her mother.
His voice sharpened. “I’ll see you at home. You shouldn’t be here.”
“And you shouldn’t have gotten into a stupid fight, but here you are.”
Lightning forked down his wings. “Go home.”
Was he—was he really pissed she was here? She snorted. “Were you intentionally trying to sabotage yourself today?”
Hunt shot to his feet, then winced at whatever pain it summoned in his battered body. “Why the fuck would I do that?”
A deep male voice answered, “Because you’re a stupid bastard.”
Bryce grimaced. She’d forgotten about Pollux.
Hunt snarled, “I don’t want to hear your fucking voice.”
“Get used to it,” said another male voice from the elevator bay at the end of the white hall.
Bryce found a tall, lean angel approaching with a natural elegance. Not beautiful, not in the way that Hunt and Pollux and Isaiah were, but … striking. Intense and focused.
Baxian Argos, the Helhound. An angel with the rare ability to shift into the form that had given him his nickname.
Hunt had told her about him, too. Baxian hadn’t ever tortured Hunt or others, as far as she knew—but he’d done plenty of awful things in Sandriel’s name. He’d been her chief spy-master and tracker.
Baxian bared his teeth in a fierce smile. Hunt bristled.
Like Hel would these males make her back down.
Pollux crooned from his cell, his pretty-boy face as battered as Hunt’s, “Why don’t you come a little closer, Bryce Quinlan?”
Hunt growled. “Don’t talk to her.”
Bryce snapped, “Spare me the protective alphahole act.” Before Hunt could reply, she’d stalked over to Pollux’s cell.
Pollux made a show of looking her over from head to stilettos. “I thought your kind usually worked the night shift.”
Bryce snickered. “Any other outdated jabs to throw my way?” At Pollux’s silence, Bryce said, “Sex work is a respectable profession in Crescent City. It’s not my fault Pangera hasn’t caught up with modern times.”
Pollux brimmed with malice. “Micah should have killed you and been done with it.”
She let her eyes glow—let him see that she knew all he’d done to Hunt, how much she detested him. “That’s the best you can come up with? I thought the Hammer was supposed to be some kind of sadistic badass.”
“And I thought half-breed whores were supposed to keep their mouths closed. Fortunately, I know the perfect thing to shove in that trap of yours to shut you up.”
Bryce winked saucily. “Careful. I use teeth.” Hunt coughed, and Bryce leaned forward—close enough that if Pollux extended an arm, his hand could wrap around her throat. Pollux’s eyes flared, noting that fact. Bryce said sweetly, “I don’t know who you pissed off to be sent to this city, but I’m going to make your life a living Hel if you touch him again.”
Pollux lunged, fingers aiming for her neck.
She let her power surge, bright enough that Pollux reared back, an arm flung over his eyes. Bryce’s lips quirked to the side. “I thought so.”
She backed away a few steps, pivoting toward Hunt once more. He cocked an eyebrow, eyes shining beneath the bruises. “Fancy, Quinlan.”
“I aim to impress.”