Chapter 197

Rohan punched the ground, his expression a feral snarl.

"'Choose death' isn't a popular slogan in the demon lexicon." I nervously scanned the backyard. "What the fuck is coming?"

Rohan put a finger to his lips and motioned to the back porch. We crept up the stairs and I eased open the kitchen door.

A scuffed navy backpack filled with cash sat on the kitchen counter next to a cell phone with no security code on it. Gotta love demon arrogance. There was no one listed in the contacts, and no data plan to check the browser history, but we found a text chain about some kind of drop in two days' time, along with a time and place. I tried calling that number but it was disconnected.

I tossed the phone into the backpack and tiptoed down the hallway, grateful that the shag carpet muffled the tread of our heavy work boots. I hit the living room doorway and recoiled, the reek of hot copper and rotting meat thick even through my respiratory filter.