Chapter 112: Chapter 112: The Pain-Feeder

“WAIT,” Elin whispered, her hand tightening on Mailah’s arm with surprising strength. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

Mailah and Grayson exchanged glances, and she saw the wariness flash through his now more blue-gray eyes.

The corridor stretched before them, empty for now but who knew for how long. The anniversary gathering was still in full swing somewhere beyond these walls, and Varrow could return at any moment with reinforcements.

“Can it wait until we’re somewhere safer?” Grayson asked, though his tone was gentle despite the urgency underlying it. “The estate would be—”

“No,” Elin interrupted, her voice cracking with desperation. “You need to know now. Before—before you change your minds about helping me.”

The tremor in her words made Mailah’s chest tighten.

She guided Elin toward a small alcove set into the corridor wall, a semi-private space where they could talk without being completely exposed.

Grayson followed, positioning himself where he could watch both approaches to their position.

Always the strategist, Mailah thought.

“Okay,” Mailah said softly, turning her full attention to the young woman whose face was still pale with lingering fear. “Tell us. What is it?”

Elin’s hands twisted together, her fingers white-knuckled with tension. When she spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper. “Do you know what Varrow is? What he feeds on?”

“Yes,” Grayson said quietly, and something in his tone made Mailah look at him sharply. “He’s a pain-feeder. One of the oldest types of incubi. He doesn’t feed on desire or dreams like most of our kind. He feeds on suffering.”

The clinical way he stated it made Mailah’s blood run cold. “Suffering,” she repeated slowly. “You mean…”

“I mean exactly what you’re thinking,” Grayson confirmed, his jaw tight. “He sustains himself on physical and emotional pain. The more intense, the more nourishing. And unlike most demons who can feed passively on ambient energy, pain-feeders can actively create what they consume.”

Mailah’s gaze snapped back to Elin, really looking at her for the first time since they’d escaped the bathroom. Now that she knew what to look for, she could see the signs she’d missed before—the way Elin held herself too carefully, as if movement hurt.

The faint bruising barely visible along her collarbone where her dress had shifted. The haunted look in her eyes that went deeper than just fear.

“Oh god,” Mailah breathed. “He’s been hurting you. Deliberately.”

Elin’s laugh was bitter and broken. “Hurting me is his dinner. Sometimes breakfast too, if he’s feeling particularly hungry.” Her fingers moved to her left wrist, unconsciously rubbing at a spot hidden beneath her chain. “He’s very good at making it look like accidents. Falls. Clumsiness. My own fault for being so careless.”

The self-recrimination in her voice made Mailah want to scream. Instead, she reached out and caught Elin’s hands, stilling their anxious movements.

“None of this is your fault,” she said fiercely. “You understand that, right? Whatever he’s done to you, whatever he’s made you believe—it’s not your fault.”

“Isn’t it though?” Elin’s eyes filled with tears. “I went with him. I let him into my life. I believed him when he said he cared about me, that he wanted to help me after my divorce. I was so stupid—”

“You were hurt and lonely and he took advantage of that,” Mailah interrupted. “That makes him a predator, not you stupid.”

Grayson had gone very still, his expression unreadable but his eyes burning with an intensity that made the air around them feel charged. “How long?” he asked quietly.

Elin swallowed hard. “Eight months. Maybe nine. Time gets… fuzzy… when you’re with him.”

“And the feeding? How often?”

“Every few days.” Elin’s voice had gone flat, detached, as if she were reciting someone else’s story. “Small things at first. A twisted ankle. A burned hand. Then bigger. Falls down stairs. A car accident that somehow only hurt me. He’s creative.”

Mailah felt sick. This was so much worse than she’d imagined. At least with other demons, their feeding seemed more… abstract.

Energy, emotions, dreams. But this? This was torture dressed up as relationship.

“Why didn’t you leave?” she asked, then immediately wished she could take the question back. “I’m sorry, that was—”

“No, it’s fair.” Elin pulled her hands free, wrapping her arms around herself defensively. “I tried. Once. About three months ago. Made it as far as my sister’s place in Seattle.”

“What happened?” Grayson asked, though his tone suggested he already knew.

“He found me. Told my sister he was worried about me, that I’d been having episodes since the divorce. Made me look crazy in front of her. Then he took me home and…” She trailed off, but the haunted look in her eyes finished the sentence for her.

“And made sure you understood the consequences of trying to escape,” Grayson finished grimly.

Elin nodded, tears streaming down her face now. “He said if I tried again, he’d make sure my sister paid the price. That pain from hurting someone you love tastes even sweeter than your own suffering.”

Mailah’s fury burned so hot she could barely see straight. “That bastard. That absolute—”

She cut herself off as Grayson’s hand found her shoulder, steadying her. The touch was warm and grounding, and when she looked up at him, she saw her own rage reflected in his eyes. But there was something else there too—calculation.

Strategy.

“He can’t touch your sister,” Grayson said to Elin. “Not now. The moment you entered Mailah’s protection, which extended to mine, any attempt to harm you or yours would be a direct challenge to me. Varrow is old and powerful, but he’s not suicidal.”

“You don’t know him,” Elin whispered. “He doesn’t care about rules or challenges. He cares about feeding. And if he’s hungry enough—”

“Then I’ll deal with him,” Grayson said with quiet finality. “He won’t be the first demon I’ve had to put down for crossing lines.”

The casual way he said it—as if killing another demon was just another Tuesday—should have been terrifying.

Instead, Mailah found it oddly comforting. This was what Grayson was capable of when he chose to be. Not just powerful, but ruthless when the situation demanded it.

“There’s more,” Elin said, her voice barely audible now. “About why he wanted me at the anniversary tonight.”

Grayson’s attention sharpened. “Go on.”

“He said…” Elin swallowed hard. “He said there was going to be some kind of demonstration. That he wanted me there as evidence of his methods. He’s been talking with other pain-feeders about forming some kind of… collective. Sharing techniques. Trading humans who respond well to certain types of suffering.”

Mailah felt the world tilt sideways. “Trading? Like we’re cattle?”

“More like fine wine,” Elin said bitterly. “Different demons prefer different flavors of pain. Physical, emotional, psychological. Varrow’s been experimenting with me to see which types I’m most… susceptible to.”

The clinical detachment in Elin’s voice as she described her own torture was somehow worse than if she’d been hysterical. This was what extended exposure to Varrow had done to her—turned her into someone who could discuss her own suffering like it was a scientific experiment.

“This collective,” Grayson said, his voice tight with controlled fury. “How many demons are involved?”

“I don’t know exactly. Five? Six? They meet somewhere in the city every few weeks. Varrow took me to one of the meetings once, to show me off.” She laughed, the sound hollow. “I won best in show for emotional resilience combined with physical fragility. Apparently, that’s a rare and valuable combination.”

Mailah thought she might actually be sick. “And tonight? The demonstration?”

“I think he was planning to publicly feed from me during the anniversary. In front of everyone. To prove the viability of his methods and attract more demons to join his collective.” Elin’s voice cracked. “That’s why he was so angry when you interfered. I wasn’t just his companion for the evening—I was his business presentation.”

The three of them stood in silence for a moment, the weight of Elin’s revelation settling over them like a shroud.

Finally, Grayson spoke, his voice carrying an edge that made even Mailah shiver. “Names. I need names of every demon involved in this collective.”

“I—I don’t know all of them,” Elin stammered. “Varrow kept me pretty isolated during the meetings. But I remember a few. There was a woman called Morgana, and a demon with silver tattoos named Caspian, and—” She paused, her face going even paler. “One of your brothers was there. At the last meeting.”

Mailah’s heart stopped. “Which one?”

“I don’t know his name. But he looked like you,” Elin said to Grayson. “Same eyes, same build. But younger maybe? And he smiled a lot. Like everything was a joke only he understood.”

“Carson,” Grayson said flatly, and the name landed between them like a stone.

Of course it was Carson. The brother who fed on chaos and risk. What could be more chaotic than a collective of pain-feeders organizing human trafficking?

“Was he part of it?” Mailah asked. “Or just observing?”

“I don’t know,” Elin admitted. “He didn’t say much. Just watched and smiled. It was…” She shuddered. “Almost worse than the ones who were excited about it.”

Grayson’s jaw worked, his hands flexing at his sides.

Mailah could practically see him working through the implications, calculating what this meant for their already complicated family dynamics.

“We need to get you out of here,” he said finally. “Both of you. Now.”

But before they could move, footsteps echoed down the corridor—multiple pairs, moving with purpose.

“Too late,” Grayson muttered, stepping in front of both women instinctively.

Three figures emerged from the shadows at the far end of the hallway. Mailah’s breath caught as she recognized them—Lucson, Mason, and Carson.

All three Ashford brothers, looking like they’d just walked off a supernatural runway show, their collective presence making the air itself feel heavier.

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