Page 1 of Knight’s Retribution

Chapter 1

A wave of sandalwood and leather washed over Rocco as he followed Willow through the new demon neighborhood—though it looked more like some post-apocalyptic battleground than a place suited for habitation. A demon hissed at them, and Rocco gripped the hilt of his sword as he and the witch passed.

Hell’s escapees now occupied the dilapidated buildings once slated for demolition. The demons had congregated here a few months ago after a mass exodus from other parts of Roxburgh—right after a hoard of the fuckers had attacked the knights’ compound.

They’d failed, and the fallen angel who’d ordered them to attack had paid with his life—via the removal of his head.

The demons in the city had been on edge since then, and Rocco couldn’t blame them. Their numbers had been depleted, fucking annihilated that day, and not just by Rocco and his brothers, the Knights of Hell. Yeah, they’d been at the battle, but by the time they’d reached the compound, his brothers’ mates, along with the other demi-demons staying there—half demon, half humans that the knights rescued and trained—had taken most of them out.

The prey had turned on the predator, and the demons were still shaken by the show of strength from the demi in this city.

Rocco guessed the demons were going for the whole safety-in-numbers thing here. He was sure it helped that they now followed a demon named Vorena. She was old as dirt and seriously powerful, and her offer of protection had been accepted.

The knights had known of Vorena’s existence since she sought sanctuary a really fucking long time ago. Not all demons were created equal, some weren’t driven to cause havoc and pain, those were the demons who usually wanted to escape Hell, who sought sanctuary here. If they were willing to leave humans alone, to keep to themselves, they were granted it. She’d never stepped out of line, not once since she’d been there.

So his brother Chaos had swooped in and made a deal with her as soon as they’d discovered where Roxburgh’s demon population had fled. She was to keep her followers in line or the knights would move in and clean house.

The only reason they hadn’t already was that so far the demons were following the rules set down by the knights, and killing indiscriminately wasn’t their MO. There were rules the demons had to live by, and rules the knights had always lived by. And Chaos was a stickler for the rules.

Rocco did not give that first fuck about any of it.

He’d crossed so many lines lately, and he’d keep crossing them until he got what he wanted.

As Rocco trailed Willow down the street, some of the demons sent wary glances his way, some scuttling away in fear, some gathering, watching, and still others posturing and hissing. He ignored them all. He had to. The control he was hanging on to was so thin it was close to snapping.

Behaving like a semi-normal, mentally balanced being when he hadn’t been that since he’d lost Kyler—when he’d been walking the razor’s edge of sanity for so long wasn’t fucking easy. If he let even a little of that rage inside him free now, there would be no pulling it back.

He was here for one reason and one reason only—to get his female back.

“This way,” Willow said, taking the steps to the front door of an old apartment building.

Since the battle at the compound, Willow had changed, hell, she was barely recognizable. It’d been one of her protection spells warding the compound when it was attacked, and she still blamed herself for the breach. There was no fucking way she was at fault. She’d been tortured, forced to break the ward, and was close to death when the knights arrived. But nothing they said would convince her otherwise.

The experience had seriously affected her. Smiles and laughter had always come easily and often—not anymore. Gone were the long skirts with jingly bells, the bright colors she’d always worn. Now she favored black, usually jeans and a T-shirt, and a leather jacket that was more for protection in a fight than a fashion choice.

Another thing that was new was the enchanted blade sheathed at her hip. Its power warned her of imminent danger, and she’d gained the ability to use it thanks to extensive and single-minded training, and probably some magic thrown in there as well. Rocco had no idea where the blade came from or how she got hold of it, but in Willow’s hands it was lethal.

She’d done everything she could to make sure that what happened that day would never ever happen again—not to her, or to the people under the protection of her wards.

He glanced at Willow. “We going in?”

“Not yet."

Rocco looked down as darkness, thick and oily, seeped out from below the door like an evil mist, sending out feelers. “What the fuck is that?”

“It senses intruders, but we’re expected,” she said.

“And if we weren’t?”

Willow glanced at him. “You don’t want to know.”

The thick, dark mist gathered around their boots, coiling like a serpent. Tiny pinpricks stabbed at him, sending waves of pain. “What the—?” Rocco kicked at it as his inner demon hissed in rage.

“Stay still,” Willow said without turning back. “Vorena’s tasting our intentions.”

“She’s what?” Rocco stood still, forcing himself not to pull away as the stabs to his feet and lower legs grew in intensity. “Not loving the sound of that.”

“She’s ancient, and extremely powerful. Not just anyone is permitted an audience with her. We could mean her harm.”