Page 12 of Dark Rebel's Mystery

"That's good." Toven's arms remained folded, and his posture made him look even more imposing than usual. "I find it's best to work with a fresh mind. It might sound counterintuitive, but people are easier to compel when they're not exhausted or flooded with adrenaline from fear or pain, so I'm glad you didn't try to get it out of them by force."

Toven's approach was humanitarian in its own way, but Kian also wished he'd never asked for the god's help and instead got the information out of the vermin the old-fashioned way. Regrettably, Toven's method was more effective than torture.

"Did they give you any trouble?" Kian asked.

Max's lip curled in disgust. "I wish they had so I could have wiped the smirks off their ugly faces. The bastards think they're safe because the clan believes itself too civilized to torture prisoners." He tapped a restless finger against the console. "It was really difficult not to correct their misconception."

"I appreciate your restraint," Toven said.

Kian's stomach tightened. These predators likely believed themselves above whatever moral standards existed in the world, and they had outdated information about the clan.

In the past, captured Doomers had been placed in stasis and spared execution only because of his mother's ban on ending the lives of immortals. But she had changed her stance when it came to those who committed particularly heinous crimes. These monsters wouldn't get another chance, like their slightly less monstrous brethren might have.

"I hear the elevator," Toven said, tilting his head toward the corridor, where the soft ping signaled the arrival of Anandur and Brundar.

"Good." Kian glanced briefly at the monitor feed before rising to his feet. "Let's meet them next to the interrogation cell."

When they intercepted the brothers, Anandur lifted a large bag. "I got us some pastries. I was a little peckish."

"Thank you," Kian said. "We can have them later in the car."

The Guardian's face fell. "Do I have to wait?"

Kian chuckled. "We are going in now, so if you can manage to munch on a croissant and look menacing at the same time, go ahead."

As Max produced his phone and tapped the screen, a mechanical whirr preceded the outward swing of the heavy door, and once it completed, Kian caught a first real look at the Doomers. The two males were sprawled on twin cots behind a barred partition, their postures artificially casual. It was obvious that they were feigning sleep even though they tried to keep their breathing deep and slow.

Did they honestly believe they were fooling anyone?

He could hear their heartbeats galloping like a pair of frightened horses.

Neither of the prisoners spoke as Kian, Toven, Anandur, Brundar, and Max entered the cell. The space was sparse, with several metal chairs facing the bars at a safe distance from them, and on the other side were two low cots. A utilitarian bathroom was located behind a glass block, which offered a modicum of privacy.

Kian settled himself in one of the chairs, a paper cup of coffee cradled between his palms. He took a slow sip, the steam fogging briefly in front of his eyes, and watched the prisoners, waiting to see who would break the silence first. For a long moment, all that could be heard was the soft slurp of coffee and the distant hum of the ventilation system.

Finally, one of them stirred. He sat up with a sneer, curling his lips, trying to look unafraid and to project arrogance. "Hey, Nox, wake up," he drawled. "The big guns are here. They're going toask us really hard questions, and we'll need to work real hard on not answering them."

The lazy scorn in his tone set Kian's teeth on edge, but he schooled his expression into cool detachment. He noticed Toven shift in his seat, eyes narrowing as he observed the prisoner. On Kian's other side, the three Guardians remained silent.

Kian studied the Doomer with dispassion. The man's bravado was a thin veneer, a poor attempt to mask the fear below the surface. "You seem to be operating under the misconception that no harm will come to you," Kian said, his voice calm, each syllable measured. "It is true that we are not barbarian savages like you, but I believe that those who abuse children deserve a special place in hell, and I'm very capable of delivering it."

Toven might not be happy with him for scaring the prisoners, but Kian was sure the god was powerful enough to compel the two scumbags even though they were terrified.

7

MAX

This wasn't Max's first interrogation of prisoners. He'd done enough of these to know what to expect. He'd been present when Igor and his lieutenants had been captured, and at the time, he'd thought that they were as evil as they came.

He'd been wrong.

The Kra-ell leader and his minions had been bad, murdering the males of several Kra-ell pods and enslaving the females, and they had also severely oppressed everyone living in the Karelian compound, including a community of humans. But even they hadn't stooped so low as to horrifically abuse children as these Doomers and their so-called human clients had.

Guarding the scum and interrogating them felt like wading waist-deep in the murkiest swamp imaginable. A part of him longed for simpler times, a world where justice was swift, and evil was less insidious. He couldn't wait to leave the dungeon and be rid of the rot that clogged his airways.

On Kian's other side, Toven regarded the impudent Doomer with an impassive expression. "Don," he said, enunciating the name, "I believe that's what you call yourself, correct?"

The Doomer, whose posture was still defiant, opened his mouth then quickly snapped it shut, the flicker of fear in his eyes betraying his confusion. Finally, he gave a curt nod, looking like he was about to throw up.

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