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“Werewolves exist,” I added. “And witches, which is what Shay was. A bad one.” My eyes flew to where Shay’s body was starting to sizzle.

That couldn’t be normal.

“And I have to go investigate the weird tree demon portal.” I cupped his face. “Please don’t Hulk out into a crazy, heart-eating werewolf just yet. Wait until your mom and dad get here. They’ll help.”

Never did I think I’d be uttering that sentence as a fully grown adult monster hunter, but here we were.

“My parents?” Colton’s brows knitted together in confusion, his strained voice conveying how much pain he was in.

I turned to Dante. “I’ll deal with that.” I pointed to the hole in the flaming tree. “You deal with this.” I waved at Colton.

“Uh, no way in fuck.” Dante folded his arms over his strong chest. “He’s your ex. You’re injured. How about you let me deal with the demon portal? I want to have a little fun.” He was going for cocky, but his face was still contorted with that infuriating concern that didn’t suit him.

“I saw it first.” Before he could argue further, I leaned forward, snatched his gun from his holster, and sauntered over to the demon portal. Every step was agony, but I didn’t slow my gait.

I wasn’t running from Colton and whatever train wreck his turning might create. This was important work.

The air got thicker, becoming impossibly hot the closer I got to the tree. The smell of sulfur was almost gag worthy. I breathed through my mouth as I inspected Shay’s body—or what was left of it. It was a steaming husk, blackened, charred, shriveled. Again, this was not what happened when I killed other demon-blessed witches. They died, more or less, like humans, but Shay was the most powerful I’d come across. She’d already begun the transition into a demon; maybe this was how demon half-breeds died?

My eyes took in the black vortex, the source of smell, heat, and wrongness all coming from there. I inspected the salt circle. Still in place.

My boot lifted.

“Don’t do—” Dante screamed from behind me, very real panic lacing his words.

It was too late. My boot had already settled inside the circle.

Immediately, I was sucked in, the air heavier, even hotter. Every inhale was like breathing in liquid fire. My lungs burned, my skin instantly dripping in sweat. The pain was indescribable.

“Hadley!”

I turned to see that Dante had sprinted forward and was standing at the edge of the salt circle. But his voice sounded like it was coming through water. He was pounding at thin air but seemed to be hitting a wall. His face was contorted into fear.

True fear.

If Dante Fields was staring at me in terror, I’d made a fucking bad choice.

As the air shifted even more, I tasted something metallic in my mouth, Dante’s eyes expanding as he looked behind me.

I had an inkling about what had freaked him out.

Gripping my stolen gun, I turned slowly.

Yep. The demon prince had stepped out of the vortex in the tree. When it snapped shut behind him and sucked air out with it, I gasped against the change in atmosphere, like I’d suddenly been skyrocketed out to 30,009 feet. The air felt unfathomably thin; my lungs searing as I was barely able to take in a breath.

He was wearing a suit.

The demon.

Shiny black loafers. Inky black slacks and jacket. But they reeked. Of decay. Decomposing bodies. Rot.

His hair was pulled back severely from his head, showcasing a truly horrifying face. It had vaguely human proportions, but everything was wrong—the cheekbones were too sharp, too high. The nose too pointed. The lips, small, flat, black. Its eyes were solid red slits, blinking rapidly. And when it smiled, as it did when it stared at me, its mouth stretched to an impossible size, showcasing rows and rows of teeth as thin and sharp as needles.

Worse still, two dogs flanked its sides. They were almost as big as wolves with matted fur, glowing eyes, and teeth that were stained red, dripping foamy drool onto the ground. The grass instantaneously turned brown, dying where it fell.

Hellhounds, if I were to guess. I’d heard of them but been lucky enough never to encounter any. No one had managed to survive them.

“Princes of hell don’t get it in the looks department, it seems.” I backed up, my hand sore from clasping my gun so fucking hard.