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"They're my daughters," I say, each word deliberate as I stare directly into those silver eyes. "And you're not going to touch them."
"Your daughters?" The captain's smile widens, revealing teeth too sharp for comfort. "How quaint. And here I thought you were just playing house until something better came along." He gestures around the room. "Though I must say, Vaelrix has better taste than I expected. This is quite the gilded cage he's built for you."
I take another step back, calculating the distance to the kitchen, wondering if I can reach the knives there before he catches me. "It's not a cage."
"No?" His head tilts, studying me like an interesting specimen. "Then why haven't you left yet? The infamous survivor, suddenly content with domesticity?" He laughs. "Don't tell me you've developed feelings for your demon captor?"
The accusation hits too close to the confusion swirling inside me. "What I feel doesn't concern you."
"On the contrary, it concerns me greatly." He takes another step forward, forcing me back against the wall. "Because I've come to claim what Asmodeus promised me."
I clutch Liora closer as she whimpers against my chest. "Theyaren't part of this. At least wait for their father to get home. Then I can go with you." My stomach twists at the thought, but it's the best bet I have right now.
Drez'kor's laugh is like broken glass. "How charming. The human pet thinks she understands her master." He gestures toward the door. "Come back with me now, and I'll be merciful. We had a good arrangement before, didn't we? You were clever, useful."
Liora's cries grow louder, piercing through my racing thoughts. Upstairs, Kaelin continues wailing, the sound tearing at me like physical pain.
"Let me at least check on my other daughter," I say, trying to keep my voice steady. "Then we can talk."
Something like triumph flashes in his silver eyes. He thinks I'm considering his offer.
"Of course." He steps back with exaggerated courtesy. "Family obligations first."
I move quickly to the small sitting room off the main hall where we've placed a second crib for daytime naps. Liora's tiny body trembles against mine as I lower her into it, brushing a finger along her tear-streaked cheek.
"It's okay, little one," I whisper, though nothing is okay. "Stay quiet for mama."
I turn to find Drez'kor blocking the doorway, watching with cold amusement.
"Touching," he says. "Now, shall we discuss terms? I'm thinking we return to our previous arrangement, with a few...adjustments. You've grown more valuable, knowing Vaelrix's business."
I move past him, deliberately walking toward the kitchen—away from both girls. "There's nothing to discuss. I'm not going anywhere with you."
He follows, his footsteps heavy and deliberate. "Don't be difficult, Trinity. You know how that ends."
In the kitchen, I keep the large center island between us, my eyes tracking his movements. "I'm not who I was on Galmoleth."
"No?" His smile doesn't reach his eyes. "You're not the clever little human who survived by selling herself to the highest bidder? Not the girl who traded information and favors to climb out of the dungeons?"
"I did what I had to do to survive," I say, fingers sliding along the counter's edge, inching toward the knife block. "And to protect the other girls."
"Noble." He spits the word like a curse. "And now you're protecting what? Half-breed spawn who'll never be accepted anywhere?" He moves suddenly, rounding the island faster than I can react. His hand closes around my arm, yanking me against him. "Stop playing games. Your demon isn't coming home to save you."
Something in me snaps at his words—a dam breaking loose. I bring my knee up hard between his legs, catching him by surprise.
He grunts, loosening his grip just enough for me to twist away. I grab the first thing my hand finds—a heavy cast iron pan from the drying rack—and swing it with all my strength.
It connects with the side of his head with a satisfying crack. Drez'kor staggers back, momentarily stunned.
"You little bitch," he snarls, a trickle of dark blood running from his temple down his gray skin.
"Get out of my house," I growl, holding the pan like a shield. "You're not taking me anywhere, and you're not touching my children."
He lunges, faster than I expect, knocking the pan from my grip. It clatters to the floor as he slams me against the wall, his forearm pressing against my throat.
"I liked you better when you were compliant," he hisses, his breath hot on my face. "What happened to the pragmatic survivor who knew when to submit?"
I claw at his arm, gasping for air. "She found something worth fighting for."