Cipher (Demonica Underworld #8) - Larissa Ione Page 0,1

someone for information.”

His gaze turned inward, his full lips twisting into a cruel smile as he relived the incident she’d only read about in the history books of Heaven’s Akashic Library.

“That was back when the idea of Armageddon was merely a dream,” he said. “Now we know we have fewer than a thousand years to prepare for Satan’s release from the prison that Revenant, that fucking traitor, put him in.”

It was best to not let Bael focus on his hatred for Revenant, especially since, publicly, he professed support for the current ruler of Hell. If he realized he’d spoken aloud, he’d punish her for his own mistake.

The narcissistic asshole.

Quickly, she diverted his attention back to the victor of the fight and gestured to Cipher as he shoved to his feet in the arena below. He’d shown such remarkable resilience no matter what Bael threw at him—extra remarkable, given that with his wings bound, his body’s natural ability to rapidly regenerate should have been reduced. But somehow, he healed quickly and maintained his wits.

“Time is short,” she admitted. “But Cipher has been here only a few months. It could take decades, even centuries, to turn him. You knew that. It’s that very quality, his loyalty to Azagoth, that you desire for yourself. If you want it, you’ll have to break him slowly.”

“It’s not just his loyalty I desire. I need information.” He reached out and dragged a finger along the length of her black braid.

She said nothing, gave no reaction as his knuckles brushed the exposed skin of her shoulder, leaving a stinging trail of welts everywhere he touched her. Today was not the day to have worn her favorite camo-print tank top. At least she’d gone for black tactical pants instead of shorts.

“Since you can’t seem to get what I need from Cipher, I’m sending in Flail. Maybe she can seduce him into giving me what I want.”

Lyre bit back a curse. Of course it would be Flail. That skank always seemed to find a way to screw her.

“She’s welcome to try to get something from him,” she said. “But he hates her for betraying him. If not for her, he’d still be comfy-cozy in Sheoul-gra with his friends and working for Azagoth. The only reason he’ll lay his hands on her is to strangle her.”

“If he’ll give up the information I need, he’s welcome to throttle her. Hell, I’d like to see that.” He gestured to the guards below, signaling them to take Cipher back to his cell. “Tell him I’ll make that deal.”

Well, now. Wasn’t that interesting? Sycophantic fallen angels like Flail didn’t come a dime a dozen, so for Bael to be cool with her death in trade for intel, it meant he was either desperate or Cipher held some seriously important information. She wondered if Cipher would consider the offer. Even under torture, Cipher hadn’t spilled anything of use against Azagoth, but he might just change his mind if he were allowed to kill the female who was responsible for every minute of his misery.

Lyre pondered that while she watched as he was escorted, limping, from the arena, blood streaming from dozens of wounds. His blond hair, shorn short when he’d first arrived, hung around his cheeks in limp, damp tangles. He shoved it out of his eyes and scanned the crowd, his gaze rapidly zeroing in and locking with Bael’s.

The fuck you, I’m not dead message in Cipher’s expression was unmistakable.

Lyre’s lips twitched in amusement she hoped Bael didn’t notice. But Cipher did.

His eyes shifted to her, and was it her imagination, or did he look...disappointed?

Her breath caught. If he was disappointed to see her at this spectacle, it must mean that he was softening toward her. Maybe she could finally get some useful information from him. Something that would earn her Bael’s favor and help her get much desired revenge.

It was a small hope, but it was something.

Bael’s hand clamped around the back of her neck, startling her so thoroughly she nearly yelped. “You need to step up your game, Lyre. I expected more from you.”

Nettle pain stabbed into her skin like a million biting ants. He could turn it off if he desired, and it pissed her off that he chose not to. She’d served him faithfully for more than two years now, and she’d been patient as she waited for the day he fulfilled his promise to her. The day he would deliver pain to those who were responsible for her expulsion