22
Mila
Marshal Pritt called with an update, but not the one I’d hoped to hear. The two Demons were still on the loose, but according to him, I had nothing to fear. Of course not. Tension rode my shoulders into absolute knots, and I barked at Devon more than usual.
“What’s the problem, Mom,” he finally confronted me, hands on hips while I sat at the table long after dinner rather than outside, my tea in my hands.
I heaved a sigh and confessed to what I’d known for almost two weeks. “Two of the Demons escaped house arrest.”
“Fuck.”
Not bothering to chide him, I nodded at the sentiment.
“What does Pritt say?” Devon asked.
“Not much,” I muttered. “He says we’re safe right where we are, that no one has ever gotten injured under their protection.”
“There’s always a first.”
“Right?” I
