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Sebastián leaned forward, resting his nice elbows on his knees. His white shirt pulled taut across his shoulders, and I forced myself to focus on his face. Which was also rather nice.

“You may have already guessed this, but what that man did to you… it wasn’t…” He paused, considering. “Natural.”

The cold sensation in my chest flared at the memory. I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to hold in whatever warmth remained. “Okay…”

“I suppose some people would say, it was super natural.”

I blinked at him, and he pinched his nose again, sighing.

“Kit is always so much better at this than I am.”

My brain stuttered over his words, trying to process them. Supernatural? Like… ghosts and shit?

A hysterical laugh bubbled up in my throat. “Right. Of course. Makes perfect sense. So what was he, then? The bogeyman? ”

“A demon, actually. A lesser one. Often referred to as a cambion .”

The matter-of-fact way he said it made me laugh harder. The sound echoed off the concrete walls, wild and unhinged even to my own ears.

“Oh, a lesser demon.” I mimed wiping fake tears from my eyes, just to be dramatic. “No need to panic, then. But sure, why not? And I suppose next you’ll tell me your blond friend upstairs is secretly a werewolf?”

Sebastián’s lips parted. “Well, we don’t use that terminology… but yes. How did you know?”

My laughter died instantly, leaving a hollow silence. The look in his dark eyes sent chills down my spine. Either this was an elaborate prank, or… “You can’t be serious.”

“I assure you, I am.”

The gravity of the statement hit me like a rogue wave—the kind that appears from nowhere and sends you sprawling, capsized in unknown waters, with no means to tell which way was up.

“Prove it.”

The words left my mouth before I could stop them. Sebastián’s eyebrows rose slightly, and something flickered across his face. Hesitation? Fear?

“Flynn.” His eyes held mine, utterly serious. “What did you feel when he touched you?”

The memory alone made my breath catch painfully in my throat. “Cold. Like… death cold. And everything went sort of… grey.” My fingers pressed against my sternum, phantom pain ghosting through my chest. “And the sensation keeps coming back.”

Sebastián’s expression changed almost imperceptibly.

“And… his eyes…” A tremor ran through my words. “They were wrong. They went completely black. But… I thought I was seeing things.”

“You weren’t. Did you see the way he scaled the wall? No human could have done that, Flynn, you know that.”

The room seemed to tilt, and I gripped the edge of the sofa to steady myself. “This is mental.”

“Is it?” Sebastián crossed one leg over the other. “Is it really so hard to believe there might be more to this world than what you’ve been told?”

I opened my mouth to argue, then closed it again. The events of last night played through my mind… No, it wasn’t impossible to believe. Not impossible at all.

“That guy Rory can really turn into… a wolf?” I whispered. My voice sounded small, childlike with fear. For some reason, this is what my brain was stuck on. Maybe it didn’t want to think about what exactly the “demon” had done to me.

“And his older brother, Kit.” My eyes moved to the note taped to the coffee machine. “They’re from a Scottish Highland pack.”

“There’s a whole pack of them?” I pressed a shaking hand to my mouth, fighting another wave of hysteria.

“Just those two, here. But there are dozens of packs in England, yes.”

“Can I… Can I see him? As a wolf, I mean?” I winced at my high-pitched voice.

Sebastián appeared amused. “That’s not really a priority right now.”

“Right.” I nodded. “Demons and stuff. Ice in my heart.” I swallowed hard, the cold in my chest seeming to spread at the mere mention of it.

I glanced around the basement again. The space felt oddly homey—there were cushions on the sofa, a few potted plants struggling under artificial light, and a collection of mugs by the broken coffee machine, each decorated with terrible puns.

“But… like, what is this place, though? A place for wolves?”

Sebastián laughed—properly laughed for the first time—and the rich sound made my stomach flip.

“Kit and Rory would love that. But no.” He shifted forward, his expression growing more serious.

“Killigrew Street is a specialist response unit. We monitor and manage supernatural threats in London—everything from rogue demons to dark magic practitioners who cross lines. Think of us as… an unofficial taskforce keeping the peace between worlds.” His lips quirked. “Everyone here is pa rt of my team.”

“Christ.” I pressed my palms against my eyes until spots danced behind my lids, my breaths coming quick and shallow. “This is absolutely barking. I’ve gone mad, for sure.”

“Well, you’re not mad alone, Flynn. We’re all a bit… barking here.”

When I looked up, the corner of his mouth had curved upward slightly. The tiny smile transformed his whole face, softening the sharp angles into something almost… charming.

I was definitely losing it.

“You saved me.” The words tumbled out of my mouth. “You saved me from a demon. You saved me. ” Gratitude hit me like a wave, washing away some of my earlier panic. “I’m sorry I… um… kneed you. In the…” I gestured vaguely at his balls.

But his almost-smile had vanished. “Don’t thank me, Flynn. Because I wasn’t fast enough to save you.”

“What?”

“You’re not the first victim of these lesser demons.” He moved towards me, shadows deepening the hollows of his face. “And yesterday, you were marked before I could stop it.”

The cold in my chest seemed to pulse in response, as if acknowledging its presence. “Marked me?”

“It’s more like… a seed. The demon plants it in the victim’s heart, and it grows. Feeds. Gets stronger.”

A wave of nausea rolled through me. Nope, this doesn’t sound good at all.

Sebastián’s fingers brushed his own chest, the movement so quick I almost missed it.

“We suspect something else is at play here, with cambions at their bidding, marking humans for them. We’ve found ten bodies so far.

All drained, all with the same frost patterns under their skin.

But by the time we find them, it’s too late.

The dark magic’s already developed, already been… harvested.”

My lungs seized. A rushing sound filled my ears, drowning out everything else. The cold in my chest exploded outward, a freezing blast that seemed to reach my fingertips. “What are the symptoms? ”

“It starts small. The victim feels cold, no matter how warm it is. They have weird dreams. Ice. Darkness.” His gaze grew distant.

“But they also feel… more. Everything becomes intense. Emotions run higher. It’s like the magic amplifies everything they feel, makes it stronger, richer… ” He trailed off, troubled.

“But I feel fine!” The words burst out of me—too loud, too desperate. “I mean, emotionally. Normal.” Apart from the overwhelming terror currently clawing at my insides, and the occasional panic attack and crushing anxiety.

Sebastián’s dark eyes met mine, and I found myself holding my breath.

“This is just the beginning.”

“So I’m going to die?” I choked out. “Like the others?”

The cold in my chest spread, tendrils of ice wrapping around my ribs like skeletal fingers.

My breath came in short, painful gasps that didn’t seem to deliver any oxygen.

I was drowning on dry land. No, no, no. After everything that had happened, after running all this way from Braymore Bay, this was how it would end?

Three weeks in London, then boom, dead at the tender age of twenty-five. I wasn’t even sure what to do with my life yet. Just a burning desire to keep breathing. Funny that.

Fuck, I really needed to call my mother now, before she saw my face on the news. And Katie—Christ, she’d probably want to arrange my funeral flowers herself.

The sofa dipped beside me. Cool fingers wrapped around my forearm, anchoring me.

“Flynn. Look at me.”

I raised my head with effort, feeling as though my neck could barely support its weight. This close, I could see tiny flecks of amber in Sebastián’s eyes, like dying embers in the depths of night.

“I won’t let that happen.” His grip tightened, firm enough to ground me. “We have time. And I promise you, I will do everything in my power to save you.”

My supposed saviour’s presence radiated a strange sort of calm—the conviction in his tone steadied my breathing, though my heart still raced like a trapped animal.

“Thank you.” The words felt inadequate. I searched his face, seeing only steadfast determination, and in that moment, I felt safer than I had in months. My gaze landed on his full, plump lips, slightly parted.

Without thinking, my free hand reached for his other arm as some magnetic pull drew me toward him, urging me closer. My fingers barely brushed his sleeve before he jerked away, putting three feet of space between us as he retreated to his armchair.

Heat flooded my cheeks. What the fuck was I doing? The man had just told me demons were real and I was dying, and here I was, practically throwing myself at him.

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled, studying the concrete floor. “I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s fine.” His voice had gone carefully neutral. “The mark… it might make you act… impulsively.”

I wanted the sofa to swallow me whole.

Right. Blame it on the demon magic. Much better than admitting I’d been about to make an advance on the mysterious, beautiful man who’d saved my life. Almost saved my life.

I had to take what I could get.

Sebastián rose and strode to a wall panel. “Everyone to the basement. Now.”

A crackle of static: “Oooh, is this about our new friend? Has he fainted yet?” Rory’s voice echoed. “Five quid says he’s fainted.”

“Rory.” Sebastián’s tone was pure warning.