Page 60 of Thane's Demon

He shook his head blindly, whether in denial or fear, I didn’t care. I tightened my grip. More bones cracked, and his knees buckled.

My demon purred.

‘Break him.

Hurt him.

Kill him.’

I leaned closer, letting him see the faint blue glow flickering deep in my eyes, the one thing no human should ever look into and live to speak of.

“I asked you a question,”I reminded him in a deadly tone.

His mouth snapped shut. A pathetic attempt at defiance.

Wrong answer.

I lifted him by the throat and slammed him to the ground, the impact shuddering through concrete. His breath fled in a ragged wheeze as he reached for a weapon, but I crushed his hand before he could grip it. His scream tore through the alley, sharp and desperate.

“You should have stayed where you belonged,”I growled.“You should never have followed her.”

At the mention of Alora, his eyes flicked with something too quick and too telling.

He knew who she was.

He knew she mattered.

And that right there…sealed his fate.

I reached down, grabbing his jacket to haul him to his feet, when something slipped from his pocket. A small square of glossy paper hit the ground and slid across the concrete, face up. The man froze.

Fucking dead man!

I let him drop and crouched slowly to retrieve it, already knowing what I would find but praying, for the first time in years, that I was wrong.

I was not.

It was a photograph.

It was her…my little dreamer.

But not just that, it was Alora, stepping out of her apartment building, head lowered, a bag slung over her shoulder, sunlight catching the strands of her hair. A candid shot. A hidden shot. Taken from across the street and taken by someone who had been watching her.

My breath stopped.

A cold fury unlike anything I had felt in years tore through me, violent and blinding. My demon roared in rage, the sound echoing through my bones with such force that my vision blurred at the edges.

He hunted her.

He stalked her.

But what was worse…

He knew where she lived.

My hands shook as I closed them around the photo. The man scrambled backward, trying to crawl away, but I caught his ankle and yanked him across the ground with ease. He clawed at the pavement, gasping, his voice breaking in a pathetic plea.

“No, please, I didn’t touch her, I only…!”