The guest room door slammed shut.
The group was already inside, fully alert.
The elf lay on the bed. Bound.
Dorian stood beside him, his hands glowing faintly.
"…stay still…" he murmured.
Magic flowed.
The elf's hands returned to their proper place. They began to move again.
Bone and flesh stitched themselves back together.
"…that's it. He's fully healed."
The elf's eyes snapped open.
His breathing was ragged.
His gaze—desperate.
"…wait!"
He struggled suddenly, but the restraints held him in place.
"…please, let my wife go!"
Silence.
"…she didn't do anything…"
His voice trembled.
"…if you want to kill someone…"
He clenched his teeth.
"…kill me."
Max stepped forward.
"…calm down."
The elf looked at him. Suspicious.
"…we don't know what you're talking about."
The elf shook his head. Hard.
"…no."
His gaze hardened.
"…you won't trick me again."
He struggled even more.
"…you work for him."
Silence.
"…all of you…"
He looked around.
"…you're devils."
