“What the fuck is that?”

“The way I’m going to make you cooperative. I’m not delivering any letter for you, Mrs. MacLaren. I like my guts intact. And I’m not so stupid as to let you escape either.” He raised one brow. “That was your other plan, yes? Tell me the truth or I’ll start with your asshole before the sedative sets in.”

Oh fuck.

She flipped a short lock of hair back from her temple. “Tell me one reason why I’d want to stay in this piece of shit basement? Of course I want to escape. I thought you’d be smart enough to take the right side in this little . . . negotiation.”

“And what do you have to offer?” He eyed her breasts, then the apex of her thighs. His grin was demonic. “I wondered if I’d be able to get the jump on you. For all your vaunted training . . . you’re a piece of meat now. I particularly enjoyed that privilege in the labs. So many oblivious bodies to choose from. But you, Mrs. MacLaren, will feel everything. Sedated doesn’t mean unconscious.”

Audrey swallowed to keep from vomiting. The idea that he’d taken advantage of Aster’s patients was too reprehensible to dwell on. Was I one of them?

She hid what she could of her reaction. “You know damn well who my cousin is. Get me out of here and he’ll—”

“Be lenient? I doubt that. My list of crimes is too long. And besides, life is too short. You’ve seen that. What was his name? Caleb? That was it. See, the good Dr. Aster trusted me with even that detail. I’d rather take my chances with the feast lying before me. The Giva can suck his own dick. He has no influence down here.”

Audrey sneered, although her stomach was a boiling knot of nerves. “But you do? Answer your own question. If we’re so special, why are you here now?”

“Make one little attempt on the mad doctor’s life, after one insult too many . . .” He grinned, appearing half-mad himself. “I knew too much, but I was too useful to kill. You should see how he reacts to catch-22s. My current occupation is to keep the guards happy, keep ambitious bitches enslaved like good little girls, and keep you from learning where Dr. Aster is busy cutting your boy into bits.”

“You sick fuck.”

“No, that’s for later.” Advancing, still clutching his injured chest, he stood with the needle ready. “How else will we have any fun?”

♦   ♦   ♦

Leto knew Nynn wasn’t in her cell the moment he came to retrieve her. No scent of her skin, either freshly cleaned or tinged with sweat after a hard workout.

And he knew who’d set her free—not that she would be free in Kilgore’s quarters.

Bathatéi.

She couldn’t just let things be. Dragon Kings used their powers. Cage warriors used every means at their disposal. She’d been given a task and promised a reward.

She never had a choice.

His anger pushed that objection aside. She didn’t have much time.

“How long has she been gone?” His gaze was needle-sharp as he skewed each young guard. The one to his left was the first to drop his eyes. Toward a breast pocket.

Leto pounced. He felled the man in a single lunge. The guard grunted, then squeaked a token protest when Leto dragged out a tin of dipping tobacco. The other guard made a halfhearted attempt to help his comrade. Leto glared over his shoulder and rasped, “You’ll be next.”

The man resumed his post on the far side of the training cell bars, as if a scuffle weren’t taking place four feet away.

“This is mine now.” Leto shoved the tin into a fold in his leather armor. “And I’ll report you to the Old Man for possessing contraband if you don’t tell me. How long has she been gone?”

“About twenty minutes,” the guard said, a warble in his voice.

Really, he was big for a human. Maybe six foot. Brawny, with a decent amount of muscle. In his own world, he might have fought in boxing matches—human cages, with as scant honor and significance as humans themselves. Leto only felt disgust.

“When I find her, I’m bringing her through here. Past you both. And you won’t say a fucking word.”

The downed guard nodded, his brow soaked in sweat that smelled like fear. The second man’s face has gone a sick, milky white. “Yes, sir.”

Sir.

That’s what Leto called the Old Man. For the first time, he wondered what purpose the guards really served. They could be bribed, overpowered, even harmed. If Leto killed one of them, what punishment would the Old Man inflict? Not physical pain. That was easy enough for Leto to slough off now. Maybe harm against his family.

The guards were tradition. Ceremony. Show ponies. The real prison was on a much deeper level—hostages, and the two-sided coin of promise and threat. No number of victories would change that.

Leto kicked the felled guard to hide his shudder, then barreled past the mess hall and humans’ quarters. He shoved his sudden, unwelcome realizations into the pit of his stomach.

He was risking more than he ever had. He was risking his place in the Old Man’s favor, his place as the Asters’ champion, and his own family.

For a neophyte.

For Nynn.

Who’d thought she could outsmart a devil.

Leto didn’t knock. He didn’t listen outside the door to confirm his suspicion. He just burst inside. Hinges gave way to the release of his coiled strength.

During his run through the human complex, he’d pictured what he would find. He hadn’t thought to find them so far progressed in Nynn’s subjugation.

She was bleeding from her forehead and chained to a metal-framed bed, which was topped by a flattened mattress. Hunched into himself, moaning, Kilgore held a needle between his teeth. The blood Nynn had shed was nothing compared to the stream oozing out from where her wooden practice knife pierced the man’s forearm.

Kilgore turned. His eyes were huge yellow discs. Even if the man was a grasping snake, he knew when to be afraid. Perhaps that made sense. The lower the animal, the stronger the instinct to recognize imminent danger.

He spit the needle onto the floor where it rolled to a stop by Leto’s boot.

“Leto.” He was quick to recover. Always had been. “We were in the midst of completing our transaction when she attacked me.”

“And you decided to subdue her?”

“Exactly.”

“Chains work.” He smashed the hypodermic beneath his heel. “Drugs are best saved for the lab you came from.”

“You don’t blame me for this. The fault is hers. Surely you’ll punish her.”

“I would’ve been more likely to take your side had you asked. Instead, you tell me how to discipline my own neophyte? That isn’t your decision.”

Leto loomed tall over the man. His anger was well out of proportion with the situation. Although he should be furious at Nynn for doing something so stupid, he was ready to rip Kilgore into pieces and leave his useless carcass. Maybe someone would miss him come mealtime.

Again . . . That realization of his limits. Dragon damned, he didn’t need another unwelcome thought. No matter Leto’s status, dismembering even one as humble as their human chef was prohibited, when a man like Kilgore should be below a Dragon King’s notice.

But Nynn was bleeding. Which meant Kilgore was not beneath his notice.

He yanked the wooden knife out of Kilgore’s arm and tossed it toward the door listing on its hinges. The man’s yelp of pain was satisfying.

“Strip your shirt,” he said.

At Kilgore’s compliance, all hissing agony, Leto ripped the flimsy hemp material into strips. Two minutes later, he’d wrapped an expert field dressing around the three-inch gash in the man’s forearm. Despite his boiling turbulence, Leto tamped down a tight smile. Nynn had cut deeply and with careful aim. Kilgore wouldn’t be able to use that muscle for weeks. Even chained, she’d taken the man’s right arm out of the contest.