The chains that bind my wrist twist painfully and I ignore the ache, even as my legs begin to numb from the way I was shoved into the seat. I hadn't moved a muscle since they'd shut the door on me and walked off again.

Lycus' blood still coats my hands, the iron stench permeating the air and I swallow the saliva in my mouth, ignoring that too.

My eyes flick to the door, chin lifting just slightly when it's thrown open, two men walking in, their suits cut to perfection, not a speck of dust or debris anywhere.

I narrow my gaze, breathing out low and slow. The silence stretches uncomfortably around us all while the two men situate themselves at the table, their fingers steepling together before they pause, heads lifting to watch me back almost as if they had planned to do it in sync to unnerve me further.

"You are a suspect in the murders of Enforcer Lycus and Enforcer Jameson." One starts, his voice echoing along the four walls, crashing into me with a vengeance.

I breathe out but don't say anything, having already suspected this may happen, after all, both of them died in my shop.

I relax my posture, "I didn't kill them."

"That matters not," the second grunts out, "until we have another suspect in custody, you will be the one who takes the fall for this."

I narrow my eyes at my brother, scoffing below my breath. "You deemed this important enough to leave your castle for, I'm flattered."

"Two enforcers died, Ilaria." My brother growls out, leaning forward over the table to face me down. "Nothing can kill Enforcers, that is their punishment. Eternal life until they've repented."

"You know as well as I that that is not true." I remind him, leaning back in my chair, lengthening the distance between us.

The king of the underworld leans back, narrowing his eyes on me, his own right hand man - an enforcer the gods favoured and let dwell in Hel instead of living out eternal damnation topside like the rest of their unlucky comrades - copies, leaving back in a mirror pose. I ignore them both. Damion hadn't been my brother's enforcer for long, less then two hundred years and he was put into the position after my exile so I don't know much about him.

I did know he was a pain in the ass though and listened to everything my brother whispered, did every command without question. Loyal some would say.

"You have three months to find the real killers." My brother announces, "you are to work alongside Enforcer Hawke."

I straighten in my chair. "He would sooner kill me then work with me."

"Figure it out." With that, he pushes from the table and moves to exit, stopping at the threshold and looking back at me. "Three months, Ilaria, if the killer is not found before then you will both be punished accordingly."

I lift a chained hand, waving my brother and his right hand away, letting it fall back to the table with a clunk as soon as the door shuts.

• • •

Walking back into my shop is like a wave of dread falling over me.

Everything is ruined. Ransacked.

Glass crunches under my feet, the small thin bones I'd spent decades collecting, now no more than dust beneath the soles of my boots; any magical property they held no more than a memory, a whisper of what was.

I breathe out a sigh and walk into the second room, forcing my eyes away from the blood on the floor, though it's hard to ignore the stench.

No matter what cleaning agent was used, or time that went by, I would always smell the powerful scent of iron, it was practically tattooed on my mind. Like Lycus blood was still caked under my fingernails.

I ignore the carnage that is my livelihood and move through the building towards the back wall, sweeping a hand out to move the curtains aside and take the steps one at a time, the action feeling as if I am a puppet and someone else is controlling my strings.

I hiss in a controlled breath and breath out the grief, moving to pull my clothes off and leave them in a pile at my feet.

They'll need to be collected, I can use them for evidence. See what magical properties may linger from whatever species leaped Hel or killed Lycus and Jameson.

But that can come later. Right now? Right now all I want is to try and drown myself in my shower, as impossible as that sounds.

I make it not three steps into my room before I stop suddenly, narrowing my eyes at the man sitting on my bed, looking through my things like he has any right to touch them.

Hawke looks up, his eyes impossibly dark, rage wafting from him like cologne.

"What are you doing here?" The words are out of my mouth before he has a chance to say anything, my chin lifting as I look down at him.

His eyes scan over my nearly naked body and he looks away, disinterest - almost disgust in those dark eyes of his.

A smirk lifts my lips and I reach behind my back for the clasp on my bra, popping it free before letting the garment fall to the floor at my feet.

Hawke doesn't move, leaning lazily on my bed, his eyes dropping to the bra before looking back at me.

He doesn't look down my body, not that I expected him to. In all the time I've known Hawke, he's been very obvious of his dislike of me.

Even more obvious of his dislike of my species.

After all, a succubus like me can have men like him fall to her feet with the tilt of my lips. But what's the fun in that, I prefer men to fall at my feet with the touch of my sword or the promise of a fun night.

Theres no fun in a brainwashed fuck.

"Hurry up, get dressed. We're starting recon." He growls out before pushing from the bed and almost storming from the room.

"Last I checked, this is my house, meaning my rules and I need a nice, long shower before I'm forced to work alongside you."

Hawkes head turns as he reaches my door, his brow lifting just slightly.

"Do you want to find their killer or are you as selfish as I always pegged you to be?" He doesn't wait for me to answer before he's scoffing. "Never mind, I just wish I'd warned Lycus away before it killed him."

He moves away and I open my mouth, rage and apprehension taking over me.

"Lycus didn't get killed because of me." I say the words but still, I'm not sure if I believe them.

Hawkes shoulders shake and I realise he's laughing, his words venomous as he spits them out. "He was killed in your shop wasn't he, in your home as you so delicately put it." He looks me up and down, his eyes branding me a liar, a thief, a murderer with only so much as a glance. "I prefer the term prison cell but you can dress it up as pretty as you like, us enforcers know exactly what you did and what you are." He flicks his gaze once more over the decor fluttering around my room and stalks off.

I stare at the door as it swings shut behind him, the cold echo of Hawke's words hanging in the air like the scent of blood on my skin. The accusation in his voice, the sharpness of his disdain, cuts deeper than I'd like to admit.

Prison cell.

I force my hands to still, fists clenching and unclenching as I breathe slowly through the rage bubbling up inside me. He may despise me, but I know what I am. I am not the monster Hawke believes me to be, no matter how many times he spits those words. But that doesn't mean I can wash the guilt away as easily as the blood from my hands.

Pulling myself together, I march into the bathroom. The sound of running water is my only company as I step under the scalding heat, letting it beat down on my skin, washing away Lycus' blood and the fragments of glass dusting my body. But the tension doesn't leave. The ache in my bones, the gnawing sensation in my chest—none of it goes away.

I turn off the water and stand there, dripping, the weight of it all pressing on me. It's not just Lycus' death or the investigation. It's the ever-present reminder that I'm trapped between two worlds: my duty to my people and the enforcers, who would sooner see me fall.

Grabbing a towel, I wrap it around myself and step out of the bathroom, only to feel a shadow shift in the corner. Hawke, again.

He's waiting, leaning against the wall as if it's the most natural thing in the world to be lurking in my personal space. His eyes flick over me, but he doesn't speak. His gaze is hard, unreadable.

"Back so soon?" I ask, my voice dripping with sarcasm as I dry off. "Don't you have other people to torment?"

"You're wasting time." His voice is flat, but there's a sharpness beneath it. "We need to move. Now."

"I told you, I need time." I cross my arms, ignoring the uncomfortable feeling of him watching me as I pull on fresh clothes. "If you want to storm off and play detective, be my guest. But I'll be taking my time with this. Rushing won't get us anywhere."

"Taking your time whilst more enforcers drop dead?" He steps forward, his presence filling the room. "Or is that part of your plan? Wait just long enough for the killer to strike again, then you can pretend it wasn't your fault."

I meet his gaze, my jaw tightening. "I'm not the one hunting down enforcers, Hawke."

"No, you're just the one they all end up dead around."

The words hit too close to home and I clench my jaw.

The accusation stings, but I refuse to flinch. I match his stare, stepping closer. "You think this is all because of me? Because I exist? Lycus was killed in my shop, and that makes it my fault? If you're so sure, why are you still here?"

He doesn't answer, just watches me with that same unreadable expression, the muscles in his jaw clenching. The tension between us is a living thing, crackling in the air. I can feel the weight of everything left unsaid, the accusations, the unspoken rage.

Finally, he turns away, fists clenched. "We've got three months," he mutters. "Don't make me regret not dragging you to the Underworld myself."

He stalks out of the room, slamming the door behind him. I take a slow breath, my heart pounding in my chest, and shake off the tension. He's wrong. I didn't kill Lycus, but I need to find out who did. Not for Hawke, but for myself.

Because if I don't, I might end up in a worse prison than the one he thinks I deserve.