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I shook my head. “I don’t want to be his master.”

“Would you rather be his mate?” the demoness fired back. Her slim brows dipped to shadow her eyes.

She was taunting me. Making jokes, but I wasn’t laughing.

“I’m a one-dog kinda bird,” I said gruffly. “Thanks, though.”

Moira tittered a laugh and dipped her head in concession. “Regardless, he will obey you. You need only this.” She offered out the golden leash.

Whitney, the hound, didn’t bat an eye. Did he care about us carrying on around him? People bartering for his life and control of his will like he had no say in the matter?

The realization slowly sank in that hedidn’thave a say, and neither did Loren. They were house pets in Hell, or perhaps less than that. Property. Easily handed off, disposed of, or replaced.

“I said no,” I replied.

Moira shoved the leash outward, extending it far enough that it pulled on Whitney’s collar and caused him to stoop. “My hound in exchange for your tears,” she said. “That was the deal.”

I glanced at the pillar candle and found it burning furiously. Liquid wax ran away from it in rivers.

“Thatwasn’tthe deal,” I said, struggling to keep my voice even.

“It has to be,” Moira said. “I have nothing else to offer, and neither do you.”

The handle to the leash rested in her upturned palm while the vial of tears nestled in mine. I couldn’t accept. Not only because I refused to claim ownership of another human being, but also because she was right. I had nothing else to offer.

I couldn’t give her the tears—my sole asset—in exchange for anything but Loren, in the flesh, not the promise of finding him or even a breadcrumb trail leading to his door. I would settle for nothing but him holding me, breathing against me, calling me Doll, and telling me everything was going to be all right.

It was that or nothing, and I wouldn’t?—

“Deal.”

Sully’s declaration stopped my musing. I glanced over at her, and my eyes burned with a new kind of heat.

“No,” I protested, feeling betrayed and horribly confused. “No deal.” I backpedaled away from her and the sigil circle containing Moira and Whitney. This deal was mine to make. Loren was mine. Not Sully’s. Certainly not Moira’s. How and why was this whole thing slipping so suddenly out of my control?

“Indy.” Sully motioned toward the vial I clutched. “It’s this or nothing.”

The candle melted behind her, a visible measure of time running out.

“We can try something else,” I argued, and I knew what Sully would say because I’d told her the same thing this morning.

She shook her head sadly. “Indy, we’ve tried everything else.”

I hugged one arm around my middle and pressed the other, the one holding the tears, over my heart. Turning toward Moira and Whitney, I passed over the demoness in favor of the hellhound, and my eyes locked on Whitney’s green ones.

“You can find him?” I asked.

He hesitated, but I appreciated that. If he was a liar, at least he wasn’t a practiced one.

“Say yes,” I whispered, belatedly realizing I’d wished it out loud.

He had a kind face. Like Sully’s and Loren’s, so I believed him when he said, “If there’s anything to be found.”

My heart twinged at the mention of a possibility I had done my best to ignore. Loren could be dead. Gone farther than I could reach him. Gone for good.

But I needed to find out, and I couldn’t do it alone. I’d leaned long ago to trust one hellhound; I supposed I could trust another now.

“Then yes,” I said. “Deal.”