I don’t have time to despair, though. A moment later, Zairn’s “pet” follows him into the cell, held back by a crude iron chain strapped to the torturous collar around its thin neck. Its claws carve deep grooves into the stone floor as it attempts to get closer, that horrible blood-coated mouth snarling and snapping at the air like a rabid animal.

I’d rather face a horde of antethorpes again…

Zairn steps toward me, and I flinch back against the wall as he reaches a clawed hand to my face.

“Be still, girl. I’m not going to harm you.” His lips part, revealing the rows of blunted yellow teeth lining his mouth. “Not yet, anyhow.”

His hand snaps out, grabbing my collar and hauling me forward so our faces are within inches. Zairn inhales deeply, the slits where his nose should be expanding as he scents me. A shiver of repulsion runs the length of my spine as his tongue darts out, dragging along his lower lip.

“I know what you really are,” he whispers, milky-white eyes narrowing to hateful slits. “Halfling filth.”

He presses his forehead to mine, and a wave of power enters my body. But it’s not at all like when my mates do it—Zairn’s power feels dirty. Tainted. But that doesn’t stop those unholy tendrils from reaching into my brain matter, extracting all of my memories, thoughts, and fears. It’s only for a moment, but it's more than enough, and when he’s through, Zairn reels back with a gasp, his eyes wide and mouth twisted in horror.

At his intrusion, a wave of my own power rises to meet him, and I rear back with a snarl, silver drowning out all my sight as I draw magic from the very earth itself. Before Zairn can react, I jerk forward, smashing the crest of my skull into his forehead with all my might.

A nasty crack fills the air, and Zairn falls back with a high-pitched yell, a river of blue-black blood flowing from the fresh gash in his forehead. Instead of the retaliating blow I expect, the torture master steps back, his hand shaking as he points an accusatory finger at my face.

“You’re… you’re Erik’s… I can’t believe it…” His eyes glaze over as his voice lowers, and it’s clear his words are not meant for my ears. “I’m not sure how I could have missed it… the thing has his eyes, his nose… but she was supposed to be dead…dead! How could this have slipped past us? Must do something… must tell someone…”

The name Erik hits me like a ton of bricks. I haven't heard it in so long, I had almost forgotten the name that would roll off my mother’s tongue in the night as she cried herself to sleep. Erik Olavera.