Chapter 14
Hazelton’s lungs burned as he pressed his back against the rough brick wall, his chest heaving with panicked breaths.
Sweat dripped down his temples, mingling with the grime from the filthy alley where he’d taken refuge.
The air reeked of rotting trash and gasoline, but the stench was a minor irritation compared to the terror clawing at his insides.
He hadn’t expected them to start looking for him so soon. The moment he’d felt Sorcia and her companion lock onto his presence, he’d nearly lost control. Their combined power was suffocating, like a storm bearing down on him, pressing against his chest and threatening to unravel him.
It took several agonizing minutes before he could summon the strength to move. His legs trembled as he forced himself to creep further into the shadowy alley, his pulse hammering in his ears. For a demon accustomed to being the predator, the sensation of being hunted was intolerable.
As he glanced around, trying to get his bearings, his thoughts turned bitterly to Hortense.
Could he even trust her to help if Sorcia got too close?
The elf was a lazy, conniving creature, more interested in filing her nails than actually doing anything productive.
She’d made it clear she expected him to deliver Sorcia to her doorstep, bound and powerless.
“Elves,” he muttered under his breath, the word dripping with contempt as he trudged westward. His hands curled into fists at the thought of Hortense’s dismissive attitude, but his anger was quickly redirected.
That man. Hazelton’s teeth clenched at the memory of the hulking figure beside her.
Marcus’s sheer presence had been undeniable—powerful, sharp, and infuriatingly aware.
Hazelton had felt the instant the man locked onto his surge of adrenaline, and watching them stride purposefully in his direction had nearly sent him into a frenzy.
Their combined magic had made them impossible to approach. Together, they exuded an aura so strong it had been like walking into a blazing inferno. Hazelton had been forced to retreat, his frustration mounting with every step.
Maybe it was time to change tactics. If he could capture a weaker witch, someone insignificant, he could drain her powers first. A cloaking spell would buy him time, hiding him from Sorcia’s relentless pursuit. But to capture Sorcia herself…
His mind churned with strategies as he slipped through the shadows, his senses on high alert for any sign of pursuit. If he could isolate her, separate her from the behemoth of a witch at her side, her power would diminish. Alone, she was formidable. With him? She was untouchable.
He wanted to lash out, to destroy something to vent his rage. But even that small indulgence would risk detection. Grinding his teeth, he reined in his fury and quickened his pace, retreating toward the safety of the abandoned warehouse he’d claimed as his lair.
The darkened city seemed to close in around him, its labyrinthine streets both a refuge and a trap.
Hazelton’s mind buzzed with schemes and half-formed plans as he pushed forward.
His time was running out, but he wasn’t finished yet.
If he played his cards right, Sorcia and her obnoxious companion would regret ever crossing paths with him.