Page 51 of Demon Daddy's Baby Girl

A beautiful prison.

I press my forehead against the cool stone beside the window. "Sephy, my sweet girl, I'm so sorry."

But under my whispered apology, another feeling stirs in my chest. It blooms slowly, like the aracin blossoms that grow on Bilgonith's beaches—fragile-looking but remarkably resilient. Fear lives here in this tower, in every corner of this estate—but so does fury. A fury I've kept banked and hidden for years.

My fingers trace the ownership mark burned into my upper arm, the scar tissue raised beneath my fingertips. The mark Kaelith believes gives him the right to treat me like property. To take my child. To steal my freedom.

"No," I whisper, the word stronger than before. "I am not what he made me."

I think of Rolfo's hands cupping my face, his silver eyes serious as he told me, "You survived him once. You're stronger than you believe."

The silence in the tower room is complete. No servants pass by the door. No birds sing outside the window. Nothing but the beating of my heart, steady and determined despite everything.

But under it, that whisper of rebellion grows louder with each breath I take. I may be captive again, but I am not the same frightened girl who fled this place. I am a mother. I have known kindness. I have tasted freedom.

Fear lives here—but so does fury. And one day soon, it will rise.

23

ROLFO

Islide off the zarryn's back, my hand lingering briefly on its silver coat. The beast snorts, tossing its shaggy head as if it knows what's coming. Smart animal. I secure it to a thorny brimbark tree at the forest's edge, far enough from Shadowfall estate that no patrolling guards will spot it.

"Stay," I mutter, more to myself than the zarryn. Every muscle in my body screams to charge forward, to tear through Kaelith's walls with my bare hands. But that won't save her.

The forest surrounding Kaelith's estate is unnaturally dense. Branches twist together like arthritic fingers, creating a canopy so thick the perpetual red sky of Ikoth barely seeps through. I know these woods. Dark magic pulses through the soil here, a deterrent for those who might wander too close to Shadowfall's domain.

I move forward, ducking under a low-hanging branch. The terrain shifts beneath my feet—an illusion designed to disorient. One step feels like walking uphill, the next like sinking into mud. I focus on my breathing, on the steady rhythm that's kept me alive through countless missions.

"Not today," I growl as the path ahead seems to vanish entirely. I've dealt with these tricks before. Closing my eyes, I trust my other senses—the smell of sulfur growing stronger to the east, the faint hum of protective wards ahead.

When I open my eyes again, I see it. The illusion peels away like a scab, revealing what lies beneath: Shadowfall estate. Ivy strangles dark stone walls, and spires pierce the crimson sky like accusatory fingers. Windows glow with sickly amber light, and the gates bear the emblem I've come to hate more than almost anything in this world.

My hand moves to the blade at my hip. Cold, reassuring weight. Custom-forged from metals that can cut through demon flesh more efficiently than standard steel. I didn't come unprepared.

I circle the perimeter, staying low in the undergrowth. Two guards at the main gate, three patrolling the walls. Predictable. Kaelith's arrogance extends to his security—he doesn't expect anyone would dare breach his sanctuary.

A gap in the patrol. I scale the wall in seconds, muscle memory from years of similar maneuvers. Over the top, drop silently to the other side. I land in a crouch, scanning for movement. Nothing.

The first sentry rounds the corner moments later, whistling some old demon war tune. He doesn't even have time to register surprise before my hand clamps over his mouth, blade sliding between his ribs. I lower him silently to the ground, continuing forward.

Inside the servant's entrance, the smell hits me—spice and sulfur, Kaelith's signature scent. My nostrils flare, and something primal rises in my chest. The mercury in my eyes shifts, pupils narrowing to slits in the dimness.

A demon guard looks up as I enter the hallway. "Hey, you're not?—"

I'm across the space before he can finish, my blade opening his throat mid-sentence. His body drops with a dull thud. I step over it without a second glance.

Two more at the end of the corridor. One reaches for an alarm bell. I throw my dagger, pinning his hand to the wall. His partner turns, eyes widening, mouth opening to shout a warning. I'm on him in an instant, snapping his neck with a clean twist. The sound—like breaking a dry branch—echoes in the empty hallway.

The one pinned to the wall struggles, tries to free himself. "Lord Kaelith will?—"

His words end in a gurgle as I drive my blade up under his chin.

I retrieve my dagger, wiping the black ichor on the dead guard's uniform. Every moment that passes is another moment Aurelie suffers at Kaelith's hands. The thought sends fresh heat coursing through my veins.

I move deeper into the estate, navigating by instinct and fragments of intelligence I've gathered over the years. Servants scatter at my approach—they know better than to challenge a demon with blood in his eyes.

A guard captain emerges from a side room, flanked by two of his men. He doesn't hesitate, instantly recognizing the threat.

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