Page 19 of Whispers of the Dead

My chest tightens at the unexpected kindness. A small,fragile smile tugs at my lips. The first smile I’ve felt in days. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” His tone is softer. A far cry from the anger I’ve experienced from him so far. Then, almost as an afterthought, he adds, “Seriously. Don’t.”

A quiet laugh escapes me, but the moment is short-lived when the sharp clink of a lock turning shatters the few seconds of peace. I jolt upright. Damon moves fast. He yanks the blanket through the bars and tucks it away as if it never existed. The air turns colder without it.

The heavy metal door groans open down the corridor, with the hinges screeching in protest. Footsteps approach, lighter than the usual heavy boots that seem to go along with being a dreg. My pulse pounds when a figure steps into view. Taller than most, leaner, with a wary posture. He stops outside my cell and crosses his arms over his chest.

The thing that strikes me the most is the fact that he doesn’t sneer. He doesn’t leer. That alone makes him different. His looks are intimidating, but something about his presence isn’t like the others.

His face is sharp and angular, all edges and quiet intensity, with dark brown eyes that flicker with something unreadable. A split eyebrow that looks like a burn mark, and his hair is short and messy, like he’d rather not waste time fixing it.

“Who are you?” I narrow my eyes. He’s a new dreg.

He lifts a brow and his mouth tugs into something that isn’t quite a smile, but it’s not a scowl, either. “Jace.”

I study him, waiting for that familiar cruel smirk, for the inevitable jeering remark, but it never comes. Instead, he stands there, shifting on his feet like he’s not entirely sure he wants to be here.

“Boss wants your hand fixed.” He eyes my palm. “He doesn’t want you bleeding out all over the place.”

I glance down at my hand. Dried blood stains my skinfrom the cut where Benji removed the glass shard. Now it looks raw and irritated.

“Well, I’d say you should be more worried about an infection than a clean floor,” Benji says in an annoyed tone.

Jace looks over at Benji’s dark cell. “That’s exactly what I told him.”

“Huh. Didn’t expect that.” Benji pauses for a moment. “Alright, then. Carry on.”

I let out an uncomfortable laugh. “Well, thanks for getting that all squared away, Benjamin.”

“Any time, golden girl.”

I shake my head and raise my hand. “Let’s get started, then. Wouldn’t want me to inconvenience anyone by staining the concrete.”

Jace sighs and runs a hand through his messy hair. “Look, it’s either this, or he orders someone to cut off your fingers. Can you cooperate?”

Before I can respond, a small blur of movement catches my eye. There’s a scrambling sound, followed by the soft click-click of nails against concrete.

Jace swears under his breath. “Shit. I didn’t close the door all the way.”

I open my mouth to ask what he means, but then a dog barrels into the corridor. It’s clearly a puppy judging by the size and the energy. A chocolate labrador, I believe. My jaw drops. “A dog?”

Before Jace can grab the dog, it wiggles between the bars of my cell and squeezing all the way inside with surprising ease. “Lola,” Jace calls, but Lola ignores him.

I barely have time to react before she launches at me with her tongue out and tail wagging. I let out a surprised yelp when she licks my face and knocks me back against the cold concrete floor. The laughter that bubbles out of me is completely unbidden. “What the…”

She doesn’t stop. She licks and wiggles her butt, so her tail thumps wildly against my leg.

“Lola,” Jace hisses out and then reaches through the bars. “Get back here.”

“Don’t think Lola wants to listen to you,” I point out with a laugh. She sniffs at my shirt, then plops her head on my lap like she’s claimed me. I grin and rub behind her ears. “Well, aren’t you just the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time?”

Jace scrubs a hand over his face. “God dammit.”

“She yours?” I ask while scratching Lola’s head. She’s beautiful, and her sweetness is infectious. It almost makes me forget about the dire situation I’m in.

Jace’s expression darkens. “Kind of.”

My fingers trail over Lola’s front leg, and I laugh when I see the scar. It’s thick and slightly raised, as if a deep cut had once marred her perfect fur. “What happened to her?”

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