The chambers were uniformly bare, with only a bed and small bathroom apiece. There were no bars. The place was set up more like a psych ward in a hospital than a traditional prison. The inmates were allowed little to no contact between them and they were never allowed to go outside, not for the entirety of their terms, since outside meant beyond the charmed walls.

“Has anyone ever escaped this place?” asked Isabelle, her gaze eating up the austere, depressing surroundings with interest. “Bribe a guard? Escape into the ventilation?”

Thomas shook his head. “There have been attempts, none successful.”

She glanced up at the white walls and shivered. “If I were an inmate here, I’d spend every second of my time trying to get out.”

“You’d probably succeed, too.”

She gave him a coy glance, big brown eyes warm beneath long ginger-colored lashes. “Flatterer.”

Accompanied by two armed guards, they walked to a room at the end of a long corridor and stood in front of a metal door with a viewing slit in the top. One of the guards produced a key and led them inside.

Stefan sat on the bed wearing light gray Gribben prison clothes and soft-soled shoes. He appeared so harmless when he was powerless, just like any other silly, millionaire playboy who’d been naughty and been thrown in county lockup. His pretty boy face wore a morose expression, his shoulders slumped. In a word, he looked humiliated.

Was it an act, or was he genuinely suffering under the burden of having his magick removed? Stefan was an extremely powerful warlock and Gribben tended to be harder on them.

Or maybe he was feeling the injuries Isabelle had dealt him. He’d still be able to sire children, but the doctors said it had been a close thing. The thought of Stefan being a father sent chills through him. Perhaps Isabelle should have been more thorough.

Isabelle and Micah hung back by the door with the guards while Thomas took a few steps into the bare room, the heels of his shoes sounding on the concrete floor. Despite his approach, Stefan only had eyes for Isabelle and they sparked with pure murderous hatred.

Thomas walked into his line of sight, blocking Isabelle’s form and forcing Stefan to move his gaze to Thomas’s face. He did, slowly.

“Do you know why you’re here, Stefan?”

“Because of that bitch.” The words were low and clearly pronounced.

“Wrong.”

Defiance flared across his face, hot and unrelenting. His blue eyes seemed to burn in his ashen face. It made it clear that, though he may be suffering under the effects of Gribben and from his injuries, Stefan was not down for the count, not by a long shot.

“Do you really think you and your Coven could have taken me, Monahan? I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for that bitch of a witch.”