“She can do whatever she wants,” Sylas answers, black eyes on me, taking me in like I’m something delicious he wants to sink his teeth into.

“I’m sorry,” Raymond apologizes with a bow of his head. “It won’t happen again.”

“No, it won’t,” Sylas says with an underlining threat in his tone.

Raymond nods and then him and the other head for the door, locking it behind them.

“Are you okay?” He asks me, a hint of concern lacing his voice. “They didn’t hurt you, did they?”

I run my hand down the side of my neck, wiping the blood away. “Not as bad as your bite did.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not contagious.” He walks the cement floor. “Do you know who I am?”

“You’re Aiden’s brother, Sylas,” I answer, leaning back against a beam, clutching my head.

“Yeah, but do you know who I am,” he says. “Can you remember me at all?”

I decide whether to lie, but it seems unnecessary. “You and I were behind the red door together at one time or another.”

“That’s all you remember?” His mouth curves to a pout. “I’m heartbroken.”

“Maybe that’s all I remember,” I say. “But maybe not. Perhaps I might be more willing to tell stuff if you were to tell me a few things.”

He crosses his arms, facing me, and taps his finger on his lips. “You’re exactly how I remember you.” He shakes his head, smiling to himself. “All right, what do you want to know first? What we are? Why we’re here? Go ahead and try to stump me with your questions”

I hold his gaze steadily. “Where’s Aiden?”

His face falls into irritation. “Aiden’s fine.”

“That’s not what I asked? Is it?”

He laughs, giving a soft roll of his eyes. “Aiden’s upstairs, sleeping soundly like a baby.”

I glance around at the vacant building with steel walls, pillars, and a concrete floor. “And where are we?”

“A safe place.” He raps one of the beams. “Where no one—or nothing can hurt you, which is really important right now, since you’re turning human.”

I’m defenseless and I’m missing my knife and backpack. “Where’s my stuff?”

“In a safe place too,” he says tauntingly and pauses. “So Monarch ended up giving you his watch.”

I scowl. “You went through my things.”

His grin’s all wicked as he walks in front of me and traces a finger slowly down my arm. That strange nervous feeling from my memory creeps up in me.

“You know, a while ago you wouldn’t have cared if I touched something of yours,” he breathes.

I squirm uncomfortably, not sure how to react, yet unable to back away.

“Easy,” he laughs softly. “I’m just messing around.” He steps back. “What’s your next question?”

“What are you going to do with me?”