Page 52 of Demon Daddy's Baby Girl

"Intruder! To arms!"

His call ends abruptly as I drive forward, shouldering him into the wall. His subordinates draw weapons. Too slow. I break the first one's arm at the elbow, the bone cracking audibly, before slashing across the second's hamstring. The captain struggles against my grip, clawing at my face.

"Where is she?" I growl, pressing my forearm against his throat.

"Who—" he chokes out.

"The human. Kaelith's captive."

Recognition flickers in his eyes. "He'll never let you liv?—"

I snap his neck before the last word fully leaves his mouth. No witnesses. No mercy. Not today.

Every guard I encounter meets the same fate—swift, silent death. I don't speak. Don't think beyond the next kill, the next corridor, the next step toward her. Blood spatters my clothes, none of it mine. I barely notice.

I follow the direction of where all the guards are stationed, knowing they will lead me to her. I climb up into darkness, air heavy with the stench of rot and something else—old magic, the kind that festers like an infected wound. My boots barely make a sound as I climb, one hand trailing along the damp stone wall, the other gripping my blade.

Guards should be stationed here, but the corridor is empty—a detail that sets my teeth on edge. Either Kaelith is arrogant enough to think no one would get this far, or it's a trap. Neither option improves my mood.

As I reach the top, a faint glow illuminates the passageway. Not torchlight—something colder. I recognize the signature immediately: shadow magic, Kaelith's specialty. The hair on my arms stands on end.

Four doors line the corridor, black iron doors sealed with arcane locks. Three stand empty, their doors ajar. The fourth pulses with sickly light that seeps from beneath the door.

I approach cautiously, pressing my ear against the cold metal. A whimper, so faint I almost miss it, freezes the blood in my veins.Aurelie.

The door's enchantment is complex—a multilayered spell designed to keep the prisoner in and everyone else out. I pull Dezoth's talisman from my pocket, a small obsidian triangle etched with counterspell runes. The artifact thrums in my palm, recognizing the magic it was created to dismantle.

"Hold on," I whisper, pressing the talisman against the lock. The stone flares hot, nearly scorching my skin, but I don't pull away. The enchantment resists, clinging to the door like a living thing.

I press harder, channeling my rage, my desperation into the stone. "Open, damn you."

The lock gives way with a sound like ice cracking, and the door swings inward.

The room is circular, stone walls covered in ritual markings that pulse with malevolent light. I take in some of the symbols—binding runes, strength-dampeners, pain enhancers. This isn't just a prison cell; it's a torture chamber designed specifically for her.

And there, in the center of it all, is Aurelie.

She's curled on the cold stone floor, her auburn hair matted with blood, face bruised, lip split. Her wrists are bound by shadow-chains anchored to the floor, magical restraints that burn the flesh they touch. The sight knocks the air from my lungs.

"Aurelie." My voice breaks on her name, a sound more animal than demon.

She lifts her head slowly, disbelieving. Eyes that once sparkled like sunlight through amber now dull with pain and fear. Her gaze finds mine, and something flickers behind the haze.

"Rolfo?" Her voice is sandpaper, barely audible. "You're not real."

I cross to her in three strides, dropping to my knees beside her. "I'm real. I'm here." My hands hover over her restraints, afraid to cause more pain. "Hold on. I'll get these off."

I press Dezoth's talisman to the shadow-chains, my hand shaking with rage so intense I can barely focus. The runes flare, fighting against Kaelith's magic.

"He said—" she swallows hard, winces. "He said you wouldn't come. That nobody would."

"He lied." The chains finally shatter under the talisman's power, dissolving into wisps of dark smoke. The moment her cuffs fall away, she slumps forward, and I catch her, cradling her as if holding something sacred. My arms wrap around her trembling form, careful of injuries I can't yet see. "I'm here," I murmur against her hair. "I'm here."

Her fingers curl weakly into my shirt. "Sephy?"

"Safe. With Dezoth." I brush hair from her face, cataloging every bruise, every cut, stoking the fire of vengeance building in my chest. "No one will touch her."

Aurelie exhales, tension bleeding from her body. "He was going to kill me. After he—" Her voice breaks.

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