House of Earth and Blood (Crescent City #1) by Sarah J. Maas

Hunt heard what Micah left unspoken: despite being part of Sandriel’s triarii, the deer shifter known as the Hind reported directly to the Asteri and was known to be Pollux’s lover.

The Hammer and the Hind—the smasher of battlefields and the destroyer of the Republic’s enemies. Hunt had seen the Hind a few times in Sandriel’s stronghold and always walked away unnerved by her unreadable golden eyes. Lidia was as beautiful as she was ruthless in her pursuit of rebel spies. A perfect match for Pollux. The only one who might have suited Pollux more than the Hind was the Harpy, but Hunt tried not to think about the second in command of Sandriel’s triarii when he could avoid it.

Hunt smothered his rising dread. Micah was saying, “Crime statistics suggest that it’s likely Danika knew her killer.” Another pointed silence that left Quinlan bristling. “And despite the things she might not have told you, you remain the person who knew Danika Fendyr better than anyone. I believe you can provide unparalleled insight.”

Jesiba leaned toward the screen in her plush hotel room, all grace and restrained power. “All right, Governor. Let’s say you commandeer Bryce to look into this. I’d like compensation.”

Micah smiled, a sharp, thrilling thing that Hunt had witnessed only before the Archangel blasted someone into wind-torn smithereens. “Regardless of your allegiance to the Under-King, and the protection you believe it affords you, you remain a citizen of the Republic.”

And you will answer to me, he didn’t need to add.

Jesiba said simply, “I’d think you’d be well versed in the bylaws, Governor. Section Fifty-Seven: If a government official requires the services of an outside contractor, they are to pay—”

“Fine. You will send your invoice to me.” Micah’s wings rustled, the only sign of his impatience. But his voice was kind, at least, as he turned to Quinlan. “I am out of options, and shall soon be out of time. If there is someone who might retrace Danika’s steps in her final days and discover who murdered her, it would be you. You are the only tie between the victims.” She just gaped. “I believe your position here at the gallery also grants you access to individuals who might not be willing to talk to the 33rd or Auxiliary. Isaiah Tiberian will report to me on any progress you make, and keep a keen eye on this investigation.” His brown eyes appraised Hunt, as if he could read every line of tension on his body, the panic seeping through his veins at the news of Sandriel’s arrival. “Hunt Athalar is experienced in hunting demons. He shall be on protection duty, guarding you during your search for the person behind this.”

Bryce’s eyes narrowed, but Hunt didn’t dare say a word. To blink his displeasure—and relief.

At least he would have an excuse not to be at the Comitium while Sandriel and Pollux were around. But to be a glorified babysitter, to not be able to work toward earning back his debts …

“Very well,” Jesiba said. Her gaze slid to her assistant. “Bryce?”

Bryce said quietly, her amber eyes full of cold fire, “I’ll find them.” She met the Archangel’s gaze. “And then I want you to wipe them off the fucking planet.”

Yeah, Quinlan had balls. She was stupid and brash, but at least she had nerve. The combination, however, would likely see her dead before she completed the Drop.

Micah smiled, as if realizing that, too. “What is done with the murderer will be up to our justice system.” Mild, bureaucratic nonsense, even as the Archangel’s power thundered through the room, as if promising Quinlan he’d do exactly as she wished.

Bryce muttered, “Fine.”

Jesiba Roga frowned at her assistant, noting that her face still burned with that cold fire. “Do try not to die, Bryce. I’d hate to endure the inconvenience of training someone new.” The feed cut off.

Bryce stood in those absurd shoes. Walking around the desk, she swept the silky curtain of red hair over a shoulder, the slightly curled ends almost brushing the generous curve of her ass.

Micah stood, eyes sliding down Bryce as if he, too, noted that particular detail, but said to none of them in particular, “We’re done here.”

Bryce’s dress was so tight that Hunt could see the muscles in her thighs strain as she hauled open the iron door for the Archangel. A faint wince passed over her face—then vanished.

Hunt reached her as the Archangel and his Commander paused outside. She only gave Hunt a winning, bland smile and began closing the door on him before he could step onto the dusty street. He wedged a foot between the door and jamb, and the enchantments zinged and snapped against his skin as they tried to align around him. Her amber eyes flared. “What.”

Hunt gave her a sharp grin. “Make a list of suspects today. Anyone who might have wanted Danika and her pack dead.” If Danika knew her murderer, odds were that Bryce probably did, too. “And make a list of Danika’s locations and activities during the last few days of her life.”

Bryce only smiled again, as if she hadn’t heard a damn word he said. But then she hit some button beside the door that had the enchantments burning like acid—

Hunt jumped back, his lightning flaring, defending against an enemy that was not there.

The door shut. She purred through the intercom, “I’ll call you. Don’t bother me until then.”

Urd fucking spare him.