A sharp twist pulled at my chest. I hated that it affected me, hated even more that I couldn’t pretend it didn’t. But I didn’t have time to dwell on the ache or unpack the hypocrisy of feeling it.
Suddenly, my body shuddered. The loss of power hit me like a wave of ice, cold and deep. An emptiness bloomed in my stomach, stretching outward like acid.
“Ah.” His voice dropped. “I was wondering when your mortality would arrive again.”
Without a word, he hauled me up into his arms. I didn’t resist. He carried me to the long table and placed me gently in a chair. Then, without a sound, he hovered behind me—his shadow draping across mine.
A plate of food appeared before me.
“Eat,” he ordered.
He stepped forward once. The weight filled the space behind me as he placed his hands on the table, arms caging me in. His presence was overwhelming, yet I didn’t flinch.
Then came the cup of milk and a pack of Oreos beside the plate.
I didn’t touch anything.
We stayed like that for what felt like forever, until finally, in a voice quieter than I’d ever heard from him, he said:
“I lied.”
I blinked but didn’t turn.
“I have fucked a great number of times.” His voice was hollow now. “But none of them were lovers.”
He turned and walked out, leaving me alone in silence.
He didn’t see the tear that slipped down my cheek.
I picked up the fork and began to eat. I didn’t know why I was crying. I just knew one thing for certain:
I had to get out of Hell.
Chapter Nineteen
Melinda Thymes
“When our powers return, we’ll try using an evil spirit like I said,” Sebastian explained, glancing around the room. His words had August and Maureen grinning like wolves ready to hunt.
Maureen nudged Jackal with her shoulder, smirking. “Think you and I could be a decent distraction for the Devil while they swoop in and steal Kitty?”
In a room full of warriors and schemers, Jackal looked at Maureen like she was the only one in existence. It was the kind of gaze that made you ache—like it had the power of a Cupid’s bow.
Before he could reply to his mate, Sebastian continued, “It can’t just be you two. It has to look like most of us are trying to break in. If he sees only a small group, he’ll know we’re up to something.”
I tried—to stay focused on the discussion, to keep my attention on the Reapers’ plan to rescue Kara. But my mind drifted. I couldn’t stop thinking about the Devil. His choices. His silence. His…restraint.
They wanted to believe this was a simple rescue. Break in. Get her. Escape. But Kara’s been entangled in something deeper for a long time now, far before the Devil dragged her to Hell.
I feared it wasn’t the Devil who doomed her.
It was fate.
And that fate had been circling her like vultures long before her capture.
If the Devil wanted to stop it, he would have acted by now.
And yet… I’d seen otherwise. Through my sights, I’d witnessed the years he tried—quietly, invisibly—to shield her. I’d seen when he saved her from Harvest the first time she was stolen. I saw when he intervened again, putting her to sleep to protect her the night Harvest descended on the Reapers to start the beginning of the end. I remembered the blood in the streets of the City of the Dead. It had rained when Kara was wounded during the human festival. And he was there. Again. Always.
