I sucked in a breath. My chest tightened, and I cursed myself for digging so deep into that memory. The past had claws—it always did—and I’d let it drag me under.
“Where did you go?” The Devil’s gravelly voice cut through the quiet, sharp, and sudden.
I jolted, his presence hitting me like a chilly wind, even though the air around him always ran hot. He stood behind me again—of course he did. Always looming, always watching.
I turned slowly. His eyes burned like embers, half-lidded, suspicious. Curious. As if he’d felt my mental shift.
“I was thinking,” I said, keeping my tone even, my face neutral. “It’s allowed, even in Hell, right?”
His jaw ticked. “Thinking is dangerous for you, Kitten. You drift too far into things you shouldn’t remember.”
My brows knit together. “Afraid I’ll remember something you don’t want me to?”
He smiled without warmth. “You’re not the only one with memories better left buried.”
His words lingered between us, heavy with implication. He was baiting me again, pushing just enough to keep me off balance, but there was a flicker behind his gaze. Something unreadable. Almost haunted.
I swallowed thickly and shifted my stance. “Then I guess we both have ghosts.”
“No,” he said, stepping closer, voice low and laced with disdain. “You have ghosts. I have consequences.”
Chapter Ten
Kara
The Devil returned to the table where he watched me expectedly, waiting for an answer. I stood in place, caught in a moment too heavy for words.
When I said nothing, he asked, “Did the boy outside the cell scare you so badly?”
Recovering, I walked to the table and sat beside him. “We both know that boy was you. The eyes gave you away.”
He hummed in amusement, rubbing his chin like he enjoyed the accusation more than he should.
My stomach grumbled again, betraying me, so I picked up the silverware and focused on the plate.
“Want to know something?” he asked, voice low and casual. But I felt the weight of his gaze burning into my profile.
I didn’t respond. I didn’t have to.
“The boy does exist,” he continued. “He slaughtered his family and half a town within a month before the villagers hunghim. He lives in a similar Hell he put those people through, but only he’s being hunted—tormented by his reflection instead of doing the chasing.”
A shiver slid down my spine. I lowered the fork slowly.
“Why?” I asked, barely above a whisper.
“Why, what?” he murmured, his voice suddenly quieter too.
“Or maybehowis more like it,” I said, turning to look at him. “How could he do that to his family? Were his parents cruel? Was there a reason?”
The Devil tilted his head, something cold and ancient flickering in his eyes. “You’re trying to justify him.”
“No. I just want to understand.”
He leaned back and crossed his arms. “You assume cruelty is the only thing that births monsters. But sometimes evil doesn’t need a reason. Sometimes it just is.”
“That’s not true,” I said, almost to myself.
He arched a brow. “Isn’t it?”
