CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
Prince Derek's POV
"You're lying, Ray!" I hurled my voice at him, surprised that he would speak about Father in such a manner, the walls of the cell echoing with my rage.
"Someone's one to talk. You've been sitting in a dungeon for how many daysss?" He crossed his arms over his scrawny chest. "Has Father ever tried to visit you?" he added, pointing a finger at me.
I growled inwardly. Cunning as my brother could be, he was right. Father would do anything to get ahead, even through dubious means. I thought he hated demons—or so I believed. But Ray, with all his slyness, was right. Father was capable of anything.
The cell itself was an ancient dungeon, built to restrain demons and torture powerful werewolves. Each cell had a unique rune carved into the center of the ceiling. Even though I couldn't see it, I felt its presence—dark, etched in hunger, feeding off my power, leaving me weak and defenseless.
