The artwork above is not mine.

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    Ruhn crossed his arms, knowing that if he let them hang at his sides, the urge to punch the Angel would overwhelm him. Sarai stood in between them, but she was slowly backing away. Apparently, not even she was dumb enough to take on an Angel alone. Especially not the Umbra Mortis. Hunt hadn't so much as looked at her yet. His onyx gaze was fixed wholly on Ruhn.

    "Working, same as you," Ruhn grunted.

    "What business could bring you here?" Hunt asked.

    "None of yours."

    "Who authorized your visit?"

    "Luna herself, obviously."

    Hunt flashed him a dark sneer. "I know you have no regard for anyone or anything, but there are protocols in place for your benefit. Protocols that, if followed, will keep me from cracking your skull open, for example."

    "Your threats would hold a little more weight if you'd actually stand by them every now and then," Ruhn spat.

    "I let my reputation give my threats weight. How much influence does your own have, Prince?" Hunt cocked his head. "Not much, if this little Pup kicked your ass when she was only seventeen." He gestured to Sarai.

    Cold anger whipped through Ruhn's veins, dredging up his shadows. He dug his nails into his biceps, fighting the urge to take a swing at the Angel. Maybe he should just give in. It would be worth any punishment he faced. Athalar needed someone to put him in his place from time to time.

    "Go ahead," Ruhn growled. "I'd love to see what the Governor will do if you start a fight with the Crown Prince of the Fae." He usually did his best to avoid pulling the rank card, but today he could make an exception.

    That cruel halo of thorns darkened on Hunt's brow. Ruhn had to wonder what it was like, having such a glaring reminder of his failures tattooed to his forehead. Such a glaring reminder that he was a slave, no longer free to do as he wished. In that regard, Ruhn thought he and the Angel could relate. His scars had often felt like a brand of slavery until he began covering them with tattoos.

    "Who cares what Micah will do to me? It will be worth it, seeing what your daddy does to you in return," Hunt snarled.

    Ruhn bristled at the comment and uncrossed his arms. Just as he took a step forward, Sarai butted in between them. Ruhn halted, more on instinct than by will. "If Crescent City relies on squabbling idiots like you two to protect it, it's a miracle we haven't all been destroyed before now," Sarai huffed. "Isaiah Tiberian authorized our visit, and I don't imagine he'll be very happy if he walks in and finds the two of you trying to kill each other."

    "The Pup beats your ass and now she defends it? I'm shocked a Fae bastard would allow either of those things." Hunt shoved past Ruhn, not waiting for a response.

    "Fucking Malakh," Ruhn hissed between his teeth.

    Sarai grabbed his shoulder, as though she were worried he might follow Hunt. "Did something happen between you two? A fight or..."

    "No," Ruhn interrupted. "But it's only a matter of time. He doesn't know when to keep his fucking mouth shut."

    She snorted. "Neither do you."

    "As if you're any better."

    "Did I say I was?" Sarai peered past him, watching Hunt's receding form. "Make sure you let me know when you decide to fight him. I want to watch."

    "Why? So you can cheer him on?" Ruhn scoffed.

    "I won't be on anyone's side. I just want to know who wins."

    "Of course."

    Ruhn glanced at Sarai's hand, which still rested on his shoulder. She'd painted her nails in a combination of black, white, and red. They matched the earrings that cuffed her ears. The earrings were ebony chains with rubies embedded in the center of the links. Small white studs held the rubies in place.

    He marveled at the fact that her hair hadn't gotten caught in the earrings. She wore it in a loose braid today, and several stray locks dangled over her ears. Her warm scent drifted up to him, white cranberry and champagne.

Ruhn held still, hoping that she wouldn't pull away, and inhaled again. He'd never really paid much attention to her scent before, and he hadn't wanted to when they were at the warehouse. Not with Connor Holstrom's scent mixed in. Something twisted in his gut at the thought.

    Ruhn blinked and swiftly lowered his eyes. "Thank you," he said. Sarai's gaze snapped to his, her brows raised. "For stepping in. It wouldn't have ended well if you hadn't."

    "I know. Why do you think I did it?" Sarai lowered her hand. "I don't care if you beat each other into bloody pulps. I just don't want to waste time here. If you two fought, I doubt we'd be given another opportunity to interrogate the prisoners."

    "If who fought?" Ruhn spied a familiar dark skinned Angel approaching them. His white wings glistened under the firstlights.

    Isaiah Tiberian paused a few feet away, waiting for an answer. Curiosity lit the brown depths of his eyes, but Ruhn's attention was drawn to the thorny tattoo on his forehead. Like Hunt, Isaiah had participated in the Rebellion against the Asteri. As one of the Fallen, he was a slave of the Republic and was branded by the witch-ink tattoo, which could control him and his magic to an extent.

    "Just Tristan Flynn and I fighting over his hair products," Ruhn said, waving a dismissive hand. "He's very uptight about things like that. If we threw hands over it, one of us would probably wind up in a hospital for several days."

    "Hm. This way." Isaiah turned down a long hallway and led them to an elevator.

    "Do you actually fight over shampoo?" Sarai whispered with a hint of laughter.

    "We do. He's even started putting warning labels on everything in the bathroom, but I just ignore them." Sarai giggled and Ruhn couldn't help but grin. They stepped into the elevator and Isaiah selected a level. He input a security code and the doors closed. The elevator began its descent.

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    Sarai found herself holding her breath when the elevator doors opened once more. She'd hardly ever visited the Comitium, and she certainly hadn't been down to any of the underground levels. She wasn't sure what to expect. A dark, dank dungeon full of screams and blood? Sterilized torture chambers? Five-star hotel rooms?

    Ruhn seemed completely unfazed as he followed Isaiah out of the elevator. Sarai hurried to keep up. She found herself in a hallway much like the ones upstairs. Several antechambers branched off from it. She could only see into a few, and there were windows on the walls within them. It led her to believe that the antechambers led to interrogation rooms.

    Isaiah led them to a chamber lacking windows. He swiped a keycard through a terminal and the door opened with a short buzz. Two armed Angels waited inside. Sarai recognized Naomi Boreas, but the second was an unfamiliar male. Naomi held out her hand as they walked past.

    "No weapons in the interrogation room, if you please," she said.

    Sarai pulled her handgun from the waistband of her pants and set it on a table the male Angel indicated. She added her box of ammo, then began to remove her hidden knives. Ruhn had already deposited two guns and a dagger of his own. He watched her with arched brows as she pulled a few throwing darts out of the folds on her leather pants.

    "Damn, are you an assassin or a Wolf?" The male Angel chuckled. Both Isaiah and Naomi shot him silencing looks.

    "Why can't I be both?" Sarai answered.

    Ruhn leaned towards her, lowering his voice. "Do you wear those every day?"

    "Yeah, why?"

    He shook his head. "I'm just surprised I'm not dead." Sarai's mouth twitched into a cruel smirk.

    "We'll watch the interrogation through here," Isaiah said, waving his hand to a pane of glass. Sarai peered through it and caught sight of a man already seated at the table within the room. His hands were cuffed in place and his ankles were chained to the chair.

    "It's one way glass," Isaiah explained. "We can see in; you can't see out. We'll be able to listen in through the microphone system. There are also cameras in the room that will record everything. If you need footage of the interrogation later on, we'll be able to send it to you."

    Ruhn nodded and approached the door. Sarai followed him into the interrogation room. Blinding white lights flooded her vision. The Human lifted his head, watching them warily. Ruhn sat down and Sarai took the seat next to him.

    "Liam, is it? It says you were in charge of the drug exchange we interrupted." Ruhn was busy looking over a record paper that had been left for them. "We won't take up much of your time. We just have a few questions for you."

    "You'll get no answers," Liam said, his voice a rasping growl. "I told those fucking Angels already. I'm not saying anything."

    "Why?" Sarai splayed her hands on the table, bringing her face closer to the man. "Things would be much better for you if you would cooperate."

    "Oh yeah? How?"

    "Well, no one would break your bones and heal them every day. You'd probably be given a nicer cell and decent meals. I imagine your sentence would be a little lighter. But by refusing to speak, you've given us cause to believe you might be hiding something dangerous to the Republic. Perhaps you're even one of those Pangera Rebel sympathizers."

    "Do you have shit for brains? I was born and raised in Crescent City. I've never even been beyond the Meadows until I was brought to this Helhole!"

    "Then where did you get the drugs and how did you come into contact with your buyers?" Ruhn pressed.

    "There were no drugs."

    "The crate the Aux recovered says otherwise."

    "There were no drugs!" Liam insisted.

    "If there weren't drugs, then what was in the crate?" Sarai asked. Liam said nothing. "Who supplied it?" Again, silence.

    Ruhn and Sarai took turns asking questions. Occasionally, Liam would interrupt with some small claim to defend himself, but he answered none of their questions directly. One by one, the Angels led in the other members of the guilty party. None of them revealed their secrets.

    Sarai massaged her temples, preparing herself for the last person they had to question. He was another dealer who was apparently new to the trade. There was nothing on file about him and he had no criminal record. Not before the drug bust, that is. When Sarai looked up, she found herself gazing upon a young boy, fifteen years old at most. Even Ruhn seemed surprised by the boy.

    "They told me not to say anything," the boy whispered. "Or he would do terrible things to me."

    "The Umbra Mortis?" Sarai guessed.

    The boy shook his head. "The...the man who gave us the crate."

    "Tell us about him," she urged.

    "If I do, will you make sure no one hurts me?" The boy's green eyes shone with unshed tears. "My mother and sisters will be left with no one to look after them if I'm gone."

    "Tell us what you know." Ruhn's voice was surprisingly gentle. "And we'll see what can be done for your family." A few tears slipped down the boy's cheeks and Sarai knew he understood Ruhn's meaning. Still, he nodded.