Jennifer Armentrout - Onyx

And the thought of anyone else suffering like that caused my stomach to twist. They controlled Luxen like that, the ones who caused problems? It was inhumane and torturous. No leap of the imagination to think that was how they’d be controlling Dawson…and Blake’s friend. And they’d had Dawson for over a year and Chris for how many?

Hours—I only had hours in that cage with the onyx. Hours that would linger with me until I took my last breath, but it was only hours, while others had years, most likely. In those hours, parts of my soul had darkened…hardened. There’d been moments when I would’ve done anything to make it stop. Knowing that, I couldn’t even fathom what it had done to others—to Dawson.

Anxiety thrummed through me. I couldn’t bear Daemon being in something like that. Caged and in pain with no end in sight—the hopelessness that would eventually creep into him, the pain that would shape him into a different person. I couldn’t live with that.

“Kat?” Concern clouded his tone.

Those hours, the knowledge I’d gained from them, had changed me. No. I had been changing before then—going from someone who hated confrontation to someone who wanted to train and gain the power to fight…and to kill. Lying to those I cared about had become second nature when I’d been a pretty honest person before. Sure, it was to protect them, but lying was lying. I was bolder now, braver. Parts of me had changed for the better, too.

And I knew without a doubt I’d kill to protect Daemon and those I loved without a moment of hesitation. Old Katy couldn’t fathom that.

Now I was nothing but a shade of gray—my moral compass ambiguous.

There was something I needed him to know. “Blake and I aren’t very different.”

“What?” Daemon looked at me sharply. “You’re nothing like that son—”

“No. I am.” I twisted toward him. “He did everything to protect Chris. He betrayed people. He lied. He killed. And I get that now. Doesn’t make anything he did okay, but I get that now. I…I would do anything to protect you.”

He stared at me as what I didn’t say hung in the air between us and then sunk in. I wasn’t sure if what I’d become was a better version of me or not. And I also wasn’t sure if that was going to change how Daemon looked at me, but he had to know.

Daemon reached over with one hand, threading his fingers through mine. He remained focused on the dark road as he pressed our hands to his thigh, keeping them there. “You’re still nothing like him, because in the end, you wouldn’t hurt someone who was innocent. You’d make the right call.”

I wasn’t so sure about that, but his faith in me brought tears to my weary eyes. I blinked them back and squeezed his hand. Daemon didn’t say it, but I knew he wouldn’t make the “right call” if someone he loved was in danger. He hadn’t made the “right call” when the two DOD officers caught us at the warehouse.

“About Will? What…what do you think will happen with him?”

Daemon growled. “God, I do want to hunt him down, but here’s the deal. Worst-case scenario, he’s pissed when the mutation fades, and he comes back after us. If so, I’ll take care of him.”

My brows arched. Worst-case scenario to me was if he came back in any form—normal, mutated, or whatever—and got anywhere near my mom again. “And you think there was no way the mutation stuck?”

“Not if Matthew is right. I mean, I wanted to do it to get you out of there, but it wasn’t this true and deep want. He nicked an artery, but he wasn’t dying.” He cast me a look. “I know what you’re thinking. That if it did, we’re connected to him.”

Healing Will without really knowing what the outcome would be was a huge risk and sacrifice for Daemon. “Yeah,” I admitted.

“There’s nothing we can do about that now but wait and see.”

“Thank you.” I cleared my throat, but it didn’t help. “Thank you for getting me out of there.”

Daemon didn’t respond, but his fingers tightening around mine grounded me in reality. I told him about the Daedalus, but as expected, he hadn’t heard of them. The little talking we did on the way to the office building weakened my voice further, and each time my words ended on a raspy note, Daemon flinched. I pressed my head against the backseat, forcing my eyes to stay open.

“Are you okay?” Daemon asked as we neared Street of Hopes.

My smile felt wobbly. “Yeah, I’m okay. Don’t worry about me right now. Everything…”

“Everything is about to change.” He pulled along the back of the plaza, hitting the brakes. Pulling his hand free, he cut the engine. He took a deep breath as he glanced at the clock in the dashboard. We had five minutes.

Five minutes to get Dawson out of there if what Will had said was true. Five minutes wasn’t nearly enough time to prepare for this.

I took off the seat belt, ignoring the weariness sinking into my bones. “Let’s do this.”

Daemon blinked. “You don’t have to come in with me. I know…you’re tired.”

No way in hell was I letting Daemon face this alone. Neither of us had any clue what waited inside, what kind of condition Dawson was in. I opened the door, wincing as pins and needles shot across my feet.

Daemon was beside me in a second, taking my hand as he looked down, meeting my eyes. “Thank you.”

I smiled even though my insides were twisting and turning. As we walked up to the front doors, I started a mini prayer in my head for whoever was listening. Please don’t let this end badly. Please don’t let this end badly. Because in reality, this could go wrong on so many different levels it was frightening.

Daemon reached for the handle on the double glass doors and surprise, surprise, the door was unlocked. Suspicion blossomed. Too easy, but we’d come this far.

Looking up, I saw a circular piece of onyx embedded in the brick. Once inside, we’d be powerless, with the exception of healing. If this were a trap, we were so screwed.

We went inside. To the right, the alarm system shone green, meaning it wasn’t set. How much money did Will invest in this? The guards at the warehouse, Vaughn, and all the people he had to pay off to just leave the office building…unlocked?

Money would’ve been of no real hindrance to him. Hell, he’d turned over his own niece.

The lobby looked like any office-building lobby. Half-circle desk, fake plants, and cheap tile floors. There was a door leading to a stairwell that had been conveniently left open. Glancing at Daemon, I squeezed his hand. I’d never see him so pale, his face so hard it could’ve been made of marble.

His destiny waited upstairs, in a way. His future.

Squaring his shoulders, he started toward the door and we went, climbing the stairs as fast as we could. When we reached the top, my legs were shaking from exhaustion, but fear and excitement spiked my blood with adrenaline.

At the top landing, there was a closed door. Above it, there was more onyx—a sure sign. Daemon let go of my hand and wrapped his fingers around the handle, a slight tremor running up his arm.

My breath caught in my throat as he opened the door. Images of the impending reunion flitted through my thoughts. Would there be tears and shouts of joy? Would Dawson be in any shape to recognize his brother? Or was there a trap waiting to be sprung on us?

The room was dark, lit only by the moonlight streaming in through one window. There were a couple of folding chairs propped against the wall, a TV in the corner, and a large kennel-like cage in the middle of the room, outfitted with the same kind of manacles that had hung from mine.

Daemon stepped into the room slowly, his hands falling to his sides. Heat blasted off his body as his spine stiffened.