Liam stared at the demon across the small stone room, his chest still heaving from the earlier scrap.
The air smelled like damp rock and something sour, like old blood.
The demon's lips curled into a slow smile, the kind that didn't reach its yellow eyes.
"Oh, it's you," the demon said, voice smooth and amused. "The one Simon warned me about."
Liam's fingers tightened around the hilt of his sword until the leather creaked. Simon.
The name hit like a punch to the gut. He lifted the blade, keeping it steady even though his arms already ached.
"Simon warned you about me?" he asked, the words coming out sharper than he meant.
The demon nodded, smile widening into something nasty and pleased. "Yes," it answered.
"He told me to kill you… and that little bastard of his." Its gaze slid sideways, locking onto Beatrix with obvious hate.
Beatrix's face hardened. She glared right back, fists clenched at her sides.
