Gunnar Lindstrom squatted a few feet from his prisoner, then slid a bowl across the concrete ground. It made it within a couple of feet, but the girl didn’t react. Sighing, he pushed himself upright and said, “You have to eat.”

  She didn’t move.

  In fact, he wasn’t certain that she was even breathing. Concerned, he stepped forward. He only took two steps before she threw herself at him. Her bloody fingers stretched toward him, jagged fingernails glinting in the scant light. Gunnar responded instantly, his own hand shooting out. His fingers wrapped around her thin neck.

  She let out an unintelligible croak, but she didn’t let up. Instead, she clawed at his forearm. She didn’t draw blood, though. Not this time, at least. Gunnar couldn’t say the same for the first few instances. Since then, he’d changed her collar out for a stronger one, but even that wasn’t completely sufficient.

  Not surprising.

  Though it was the best available, it was a poor quality piece. Barely effective, even against someone who’d yet to transcend the mortal tier. If he’d latched it around the neck of someone even marginally more powerful, it would have been wholly ineffective.

  Thankfully, even at full strength, she couldn’t really hurt him. Instead, the collar was meant to prevent the use of abilities that might enable her escape. In that endeavor, at least, it was mostly successful.

  “Stop,” he ordered, though she predictably ignored him. With a sigh, he said, “Fine. Suit yourself.”

  With that, he tossed her against the wall. Not hard enough to injure her, but enough to make sure she felt it. He didn’t revel in her pain. In fact, he wished he could just put her down like the rabid beast she seemed to be. He couldn’t though. Not until he either attained the information he needed to complete his job or his employer arrived to take the burden from his shoulders.

  Gunnar preferred the former, if only because of his sense of professional pride. But after spending weeks with the feral girl, he would have accepted the latter, and with enthusiasm.

  The girl quickly recovered before once again launching herself across the room. She came up short a second later when the chains drew taut, stopping her a few inches from reaching him. Gunnar took another step back, then sat in a nearby chair. It wasn’t particularly comfortable. Just a folding camp chair made of cheap aluminum and nylon. But it was the best he could find on short notice.

  Otherwise, the room was entirely bare.

  He’d been forced to abandon his safehouse after only a few days, and what had followed was a tense few hours spent evading the girl’s comrades. The Daughters of Deianira might have been a relatively new organization, but they were at least as capable as any other criminal group in Seattle.

  Some of their people were truly dangerous, even to him.

  Still, he’d once maintained a position in the top ten most powerful people in the world, and for good reason. Since then, he’d only grown stronger. He might’ve been forced to use every trick in his arsenal to escape and go to ground, but he’d managed it all the same. Even so, if he ventured outside his new safehouse, which was located on the lowest level of the Undercity where most criminal organizations held very little sway, he’d probably be forced to fight.

  The only time he’d left was to send a message to Hart via the Branch, and even that had been fraught with danger. Fortunately, they hadn’t discovered his hideout. If they had, his prisoner would have been freed.

  That didn’t happen, and Gunnar had since taken plenty of steps to prevent discovery. Or at the very least, warn him if they came. If that happened, he was prepared to go scorched earth, killing anyone who came at him. But for now, he played the role of jailer.

  Poorly.

  He’d taken prisoners before. He’d even been part of his fair share of interrogations. But it was not his forte, and a task he certainly did not enjoy. In fact, there was very little about the entire investigation that appealed to him. Not for the first time, he wished he could just go back to before he’d taken the job to kill Elijah Hart.

  He could have been out in the wilderness, hunting powerful beasts or killing bad people. Instead, he’d spent months playing detective.

  Hopefully, his role would soon come to an end. Hart knew the score, and hopefully, he would take the prisoner off his hands sooner rather than later. Otherwise, Gunnar would go crazy.

  The girl crouched in the corner like a feral animal ready to pounce. He’d tried to treat her well enough. He hadn’t harmed her at all, aside from when he’d first taken her hostage. Not that it mattered. She treated herself worse than he ever could have. She refused to bathe. She barely ate, and then, only when he wasn’t looking. And she showed absolutely no signs of self-preservation.

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  She had to know that she couldn’t hurt him. And yet, she continued to fight.

  Gunnar could almost respect her tenacity, but the way she glared at him kept any sense of admiration at bay. If she escaped, she would make his life very difficult, indeed. Especially with her ability to disguise herself. With that in her toolkit, she could be just about anyone. He’d be looking over his shoulder for the rest of his life, wondering all the while if everyone he met was an assassin in disguise.

  He sighed, pulling a wrapped ration bar from his pocket. He hadn’t had a proper meal in weeks. He took a bite, cringing at the taste. It wasn’t as bad as some of the stale MREs he’d eaten while deployed, but it certainly wasn’t good, either. Still, it was packed with nutrients, which was what he really needed.

  Gunnar could go for quite some time without eating or sleeping, but every skipped meal or day spent without rest degraded his ability to do his job. So, he ate his ration bar, all the while trying to determine what it was made of. He tasted peanut butter. Some kind of berries, maybe. A bunch of other things he couldn’t quite identify, especially in the aggregate.

  In short, it was unidentifiable.

  He ate it anyway.

  Just before he’d finished the bar, a light beep came from the laptop sitting nearby. Quickly discarding the remaining portion of his unpalatable meal, he grabbed the computer, only to see that one of his sensors had been tripped. However, when he pulled up the surveillance display, he saw nothing on the screen.

  Another beep.

  Then another after that. Still, as he cycled through the cameras, he saw no intruders. He didn’t bother inspecting further. Instead, he grabbed his rifle from where he’d left it against the wall and positioned himself facing the door. The new safehouse was comprised of only one room, so there was no real cover to be had. So, he knelt, trying to make himself as small a target as possible.

  The laptop kept beeping, indicating that the intruders were getting closer.

  And then, nothing.

  A long minute passed before the prisoner started shouting for help. The damage had already been done. If they didn’t know where to look before, they did now. So, he didn’t bother trying to shut her up. Instead, he mentally checked his weapons. His primary firearm was in his hands, and it would take down just about anyone in the city.

  The problem came from the probability that there were multiple intruders. For all its power, the rifle had a slow fire rate. Unless he used Suppressing Fire, which he wanted to avoid if possible.

  Thankfully, he had a pistol on one hip and a machete on the other. If push came to shove, he could make a decent run of it. But he knew that his priority had to be escape. He was an ambush hunter. A sniper who specialized in hitting opponents from afar. And despite his training – as well as a few tricks he had up his sleeve – he would be outmatched in a melee.

  Another beep.

  Then another, only a moment later. That indicated that the intruder was moving very quickly. Another followed soon after. They had to be getting close. Gunnar kept his breathing steady. His heartbeat followed suit. He was calm.

  Then, the door opened.

  Before he could even squeeze the trigger, something slammed into him. And it took him a moment to recognize that it wasn’t physical. He shot. Or at least, he tried to, but the weapon misfired. The ethereal spark simply didn’t ignite. He tried to use an ability, but nothing happened.

  Only then did he see the intruder.

  And he relaxed.

  “You should have knocked,” Gunnar remarked.

  Elijah Hart raked a hand through his hair, the green scales peeking out from beneath his sleeve glinting like actual emeralds in the light. “Sorry,” he said. “When I felt those cameras and your sensors, I thought you might’ve been compromised.”

  “Not as far as I know,” Gunnar said, pushing himself upright. His legs felt like jelly, and his core was entirely stagnant. “Can you stop doing whatever you’re doing?”

  Instantly, the pressure disappeared. “Sorry. Didn’t want to get shot,” he said, stepping inside. He closed the door behind him.

  That was when Gunnar realized how much the man had changed. Sure, he was a little taller, but that was the least of the changes. His eyes glinted similarly to his scales, but there was something about his presence that made Gunnar want to turn tail and run away.

  He also seemed somehow more solid. Like he was more real than anything else around. The shimmer of power around him was almost oppressive.

  “Demi-god?” Gunnar asked, guessing that was the reason.

  “Not yet,” Elijah answered. “Soon though.”

  That was terrifying. The man was technically the same grade as Gunnar, but he felt like a different tier altogether. Like a different quality of being. What would it be like when he finally took that step into demi-god levels?

  Gunnar wasn’t sure he wanted to find out.

  Not anytime soon, at least.

  “Where is your prisoner?” the Druid asked, pretending he didn’t know. From everything Gunnar could tell, the man could sense everything around him. Including the bound girl nestled in the shadows.

  Gunnar gestured toward the corner. “She gets a bit bitey if you get too close.”

  “Don’t we all,” Hart remarked, already stepping forward. Predictably, the second he drew close to the girl, she threw herself at him. But then that oppressive force pervaded the room. She went limp, and Gunnar’s knees went weak. He maintained his footing, but it wasn’t easy.

  “What is that?” he growled.

  “Mantle of Authority,” Elijah said. The force disappeared. “Sorry. I can’t control it as well as I’d like.”

  He knelt next to the prisoner, who was trembling. With fear or weakness, it wasn’t clear.

  “I know you,” Hart said. “How do I know you?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “Argos,” he said with a sigh. “The thief. You stole my sister-in-law’s coin purse.”

  That earned him a glare, though when he locked his eyes on hers, she couldn’t maintain it.

  “I think it’s about time you told me what’s going on,” Hart said, standing. He turned toward Gunnar and went on, “I know what you put in your messages, but I assume there’s a lot you didn’t say. Let’s hear it now.”

  Gunnar didn’t hesitate to lay it out for Elijah. He was used to giving reports, so he didn’t leave anything out as he described his investigation. When he finished, he added, “I’m almost positive that it was the Daughters of Deianira who hired me. I don’t know exactly why, but I have my suspicions.”

  “They wanted to use me as a cat’s paw to attack Isaiah.”

  “That’s what I was thinking.”

  “Do you know where they’re headquartered?” Elijah asked.

  “I do.”

  “Then I think it’s time we pay them a little visit. Grab the girl,” the Druid said. “Let’s get this thing over with.”

  If you'd like to read more of Path of Dragons, we're almost two full books ahead (book 14 just started) on Patreon. That's 165+ extra chapters, so a ton of extra content for those of you who can't wait to see what Elijah will get up to. Anyway - check it out .

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