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I hugged my arms around my middle, trying to stop the trembling that had taken over my body. Footsteps thundered above. Priya and Rory appeared first, the latter bouncing down the stairs. Felix skulked in, retreating behind an armchair, eyes darting everywhere except at me.

Heavy boots announced another arrival. This had to be Kit—Rory’s brother. Though larger, the family resemblance showed in the sharp jawline and proud nose. But where Rory was compact energy, Kit was pure predator. A thin scar traced through his left eyebrow, his movements controlled and deliberate.

Kit’s gaze swept the room, softening at Felix’s hunched form. “Felix. Come sit properly.”

Felix’s head snapped up then down again. He inched around the armchair but remained standing.

Kit sighed and settled into the chair. “Right, then. Flynn Carter, aye?” His Scottish accent was more pronounced than Rory’s. “Well, you don’t look quite as scrawny as Rory reported.”

Ouch.

I glared at Rory, annoyance overriding my fear. I raked my eyes over his small frame. “Right, because you’re clearly qualified to judge physical proportions.”

Rory’s mouth dropped open, and Kit barked out a laugh. I tried not to look smug.

Sebastián stood, commanding attention without speaking a word.

“As I suspected,” he began, voice grave.

“Flynn has been marked by a cambion, the very one we received information about weeks ago. The symptoms match our previous cases.” He pulled over a corkboard covered in photos and documents, with Damien’s grainy CCTV image at the centre.

“He’s called Damien,” I offered.

Rory snickered, but Kit’s hand shot out, catching him across the back of the head with a solid thwack .

“Aye, but that’s not likely his real designation, Flynn,” Kit said, giving me a patient look.

“Oh.” I shrank back into the sofa, feeling foolish. “Right. Of course…” Did lesser demons even have real names anyway?

“We’ll call him Damien, then,” Sebastián said, glowering at Rory. This time, I couldn’t resist shooting him a smirk. “From now on, Flynn will be under twenty-four-hour supervision.”

I inhaled sharply. “ What? ”

“Whatever is controlling these cambions might come to collect Flynn at any moment. We can’t risk leaving him unprotected. We’ll need to establish a protection detail.”

Collected? By what? The cold spot in my chest pulsed. Twenty-four-hour supervision? At work? Back at my flat, even while I slept? I felt about five years old. I sank deeper into the sofa cushions, wishing I could disappear entirely.

Sebastián continued outlining plans—something about schedules and security protocols—but his words faded into background noise as my thoughts spiralled.

“—use him as a lure?” Priya’s voice cut through my panic.

My head snapped up, adrenaline flooding my system.

“No,” Sebastián said firmly. “Absolutely not. We’re not risking—”

But I’d already lost track again, my pulse pounding in my ears like war drums. A lure? Bait? They wanted to use me as bait?

A collective groan pulled me back to the present.

“Everyone is to use the underground entrance until further notice,” he continued. “The cambion saw my face. We don’t know if Killigrew Street has been compromised.”

“But how will we get to Fat Cat’s?” Rory whined.

I stared at him in disbelief, a hysterical laugh threatening to bubble up again. The café? They were worried about coffee shop access while actual demons were apparently hunting me down?

“If you must, you can take turns making the longer trip,” Sebastián replied, pinching the bridge of his nose yet again. Honestly, it was a wonder he wasn’t grey, dealing with this lot. What was he thinking when he hired them?

Kit’s eyes drifted toward the broken coffee machine. “Maybe it’s time to—”

“No!” Rory and Priya shouted.

“Don’t take this one thing away from us, Kit,” Priya added.

“Just let them have their coffee, Kit,” Sebastián cut in, his tone final. He turned to me, and something in his expression made me tense. “Flynn, you’ll stay here tonight. We have rooms upstairs. Obviously. It’s a hotel. We’ll collect your things from your flat.”

No, no, no, no, no.

My throat constricted painfully. The walls of the basement seemed to close in around me.

Demons were real. Werewolves were real. Magic was real.

And I was marked— dying —with some kind of supernatural parasite feeding on my heart.

And now this strange man wanted me to just…

what? Pack up and live in this decrepit Victorian hotel with a bunch of people who apparently weren’t even human and a creepy porcelain doll?

My pulse raced wildly as claustrophobia gripped me. My gaze darted to the concrete walls, the fluorescent lights of the basement. Were the rooms upstairs even liveable?

“Hang on—” I started, my voice thin with panic, but Sebastián had moved on.

I ground my teeth to keep from shouting. My fear was morphing into something else—frustration, anger at being so completely powerless. Nobody had even asked my opinion between discussing using me as demon bait and debating coffee.

Priya and Rory celebrated their coffee victory. Felix typed furiously on a laptop. Kit watched over them all with barely concealed fondness.

And Sebastián… He stood apart, outlined against the harsh fluorescent lights, all sharp angles and quiet authority.

As if sensing my gaze, he turned, those dark eyes meeting mine.

Something passed between us—a spark of… something .

Then he looked away, leaving me with only the memory of amber flecks in darkness.

What the actual fuck had I got myself into?