Allen didn't answer.
He was already walking.
Each step squelched in blood-soaked soil. Charred canvas flapped behind him, torn like the wings of fallen angels. A piece of demon brain slid off his boot with a wet shlorp.
Fina stalked beside him, claws still dripping. Luna flowed forward like a low tide of vengeance, oozing across the battlefield, her body glinting with bits of demon flesh still trapped inside her translucent form.
The camp ahead stretched wider than they realized. Dozens more tents. Torture racks. Pit cages.
And sounds—muffled sobs, metal dragging, cruel laughter.
Allen's jaw flexed.
"Spread out. No one gets out."
Fina grinned, eyes glinting like glass-cut rubies. "Time to skin some freaks."
Tent A.
A demon with tusks like swords hunched over a caged beastkin girl, forcing raw meat into her mouth while whispering filth. He didn't hear the tent flap open.
He did, however, hear the crunch of Allen's boot behind him.
Too late.
