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“No. I have it.” He heaved on the bolt, putting a foot on the door, and leaning back. It groaned, but still didn’t budge. “Fuck, what’s this door made of?” Huffing, he let go and shook out his hands.

This could take a while. I shoved my hands into my pockets. “Maybe⁠—”

Zee held up a finger. “My masculinity hinges on getting this door open. My whole life has been building to this moment. It’s the door or me.”

“I just⁠—”

He grabbed the bolt, and slammed his shoulder into the door, rattling it in its frame. Then did it again. Unsuccessful, he puffed, shook his head, and backed up. “This door is way thicker than the one Reynard broke open. Like, it must be a foot thick or something. There’s no way we’re getting in there. A bomb won’t open it. It’s impossible.”

“You’re probably right, except . . .” I stepped up to the door and used two fingers to lift the bolt up. The door jolted, and squealed open on its hinges.

Zee flicked his wings. “I fuckin’ knew that. It was obvious. I was just testing to see if you’d noticed.”

I rolled my eyes with a smirk and entered the room. Low lighting layered shadows over the cages. An air-conditioning unit hummed somewhere nearby. Some scratching sounded, then the click of claws. A whimper started up. Followed by another. I ventured deeper between the cages. A cat mewed. A cage rattled.

Zee flicked a switch on the wall, flooding the room in harsh, white light. All around, scruffy dogs and cats blinked sad eyes from behind their bars. My heart cinched to breaking point. Then the cats began to yowl. Just a couple, at first. Long, drawn out, reooowwwlllllll sounds. More joined in. The whimpering dogs grew louder.

“They’re looking at you, Adam,” Zee said, appearing beside me. He was right. Those in the closest cages had squished themselves to the back, as though to get away. And those further away had angled themselves to face me. The dogs hunkered down on their bellies, but the cats . . . The cats were afraid.

Because they saw through my glamor.

Every single one laid its eyes on me, and cried.

I bolted from the room, made it a few steps outside, and clung to a crate of chilled pies. Gradually, the whines and yowls subsided.

“The cages are on some kind of remote lock,” Zee said, joining me. “We need to get inside the general’s office. We’ll probably find a master switch in there.”

Yes, we’d do that, but before then, I needed a minute to collect myself and breathe.

“Adam?”

“I’m fine,” I croaked.

“It’s going to be okay.” He laid his hand on my shoulder and gently squeezed. “We’ll save them.”

I nodded, afraid my voice wouldn’t hold. I knew what it was like to be cast out, to be pushed to the fringes, shoved aside, and then hunted down. I also understood the helplessness of being trapped behind bars, knowing your time was running out. I’d accused Zee of letting fate trap him in a cage, when I’d put myself in one.

“Adam? Kitten?” Zee leaned in close, touching my side, so I knew I wasn’t alone. “Let me take the hurt away?”

“No, it’s fine.” I couldn’t—wouldn’t—ever let him absorb my pain like he’d been paid to do in the past. My past, as hurtful as it was, belonged to me. I nodded, and looked up into his purple eyes—all I could see of his face behind the mask. Never in a million years would I let him become trapped behind my bars too.

I gently eased his hand off, and stepped away. “Let’s get this done.”

Zee followed me, as I headed back through the crates toward the junction where we’d split from Reynard. But Reynard wasn’t there, and he didn’t show after several minutes, punctuated by the distant thumping of the mashing machine.

Zee paced, tail lashing. “I fucking told him. I said it, didn’t I? Don’t split up. I said it. Happens every time. Why does nobody listen to the fabulous fucking demon? Huh? Is it because I’m attractive? Does my charisma distract from my intelligence? Ugly people don’t have this problem. Beauty is a fucking curse!”

We’d waited long enough. “Let’s go find him.”

Heading down the left fork in the crates that Reynard had taken, brought us to another door with a broken camera. The mashing machine’s thumping had faded some, but wasn’t far. I peeked through the door, recognizing a section of the factory floor and the rumbling production line, then snuck inside. The watchtower office jutted up a short distance away. But still no sign of Reynard.

“We could leave Lord Fuck-Hard here?” Zee whispered, hurrying alongside me. “Nobody likes him anyway. Who’s gonna even notice if he’s gone?”

“’l’ll notice, Zee.”

“Hm, right. We need his big-dick jet to fly home in.”

We headed up the rickety metal staircase to the office and flicked the lights on. Everything appeared to be the same as earlier in the day. Zee dropped behind the desk again, and woke the computer. The screen showed the room of cages and some icons along the bottom bar.