I approach with measured steps, the others trailing close behind. When the men look up, their faces harden with hostility, their conversation silenced.
“Piss off,” one of them spits without hesitation.
I remind myself I’m here for information, not a fight, though their arrogance scrapes my patience thin.
“The Red Room,” I say, keeping my voice low and firm. “Where is it?”
The man who spoke first leans off the wall, the others following his lead, closing ranks.
“I said, piss off. You deaf? Or do I need to show you with my fists?”
Reon shifts forward, but I press a firm hand against his chest, holding him back.
“I don’t want trouble,” I say, though the growl in my throat betrays the truth. “Just give me what I need, and no one gets hurt.”
The men laugh. Loud, grating, and obnoxious.
“Or maybe we’ll beat the shit out of you and your boyfriend for the fun of it,” the leader sneers.
Reon snorts. “Boyfriend? He fucking wishes.”
I grit my teeth. “Last chance,” I warn, my voice a low rumble. “This doesn’t need to get…”
The leader’s fist flies at my face, but I catch it midair, my grip locking like steel. He freezes, his bravado cracking as I tighten my hold. Smoke begins to curl from between my fingers, slithering up his arm like a living thing.
He thrashes, trying to pull free, but my grip doesn’t falter. His fear is a tangible thing now, a bitter taste in the air.
I shake my head, disappointed. “…ugly.”
The smoke coils tighter, and a sickening snap echoes as his arm gives way. He drops to his knees with a howl, his body trembling as the smoke climbs to his throat, winding around it like a serpent preparing to strike.
“The arm will heal,” I say coldly, watching his face contort with pain. “But a broken neck? That’s more permanent.”
He gasps, choking on incoherent words as the smoke squeezes.
“What was that?” I lean closer, twisting his mangled hand until the bones in his fingers crack like dry twigs.
The sound of his suffering is music, but one of his companions breaks the symphony, shouting, “That way! Down the street, an alley on the left. There’s a door at the bottom of the stairs. That’s the Red Room!”
I hear him, but I’m in no rush to release the bastard in my grasp.
Reon leans in, his tone dry. “Unless you’re aiming to leave a puddle of human goo behind, maybe ease up? Not exactly low profile.”
He’s right. A crowd is beginning to gather. The last thing I need is the city guard sticking their noses into my business. With a flick of my wrist, I release the man.
The smoke retreats, leaving his arm limp and mangled, fingers little more than splintered bone and shredded flesh. His companions rush to his side, hauling him to his feet and dragging him away as he howls in pain.
The murmurs grow louder, the wordFaespreading like wildfire.
Solena steps closer, her hood casting deep shadows over her face. “We should move. Quickly.”
Reon tilts his head. “What about Zyphoro?”
Before I can answer, a shadow sweeps across the dusty street, and we look up to see Zyphoro gliding above, her black wings blocking out the sun.
Reon clicks his tongue. “You and your sister are absolutely shit at blending in, you know that?”
I glance at the growing crowd and sigh. “Let’s go.”
