But I’m taken by surprise when I feel the cold metal of the gun leave my temple. I let myself feel just the tiniest glint of hope again. Will he spare me, after all?
The hope is blighted, though, when he grabs me by the arm. I realize with a pang that we must have reached the parking lot in the Devil Tower. He drags me out of the car and into the private elevator, saying, “Logan will do it.”
I can’t keep up a neutral mask at those words. Before I know what I’m doing, I’m kneeling on the floor in front of him, barely aware that I’m still naked. “Please,” I beg. “Please.”
He turns away from me, pushing the sub-basement level.
The cell.
“Please,” I cry out again while he sends a text. “Not Logan.”
He turns back around then, registering slight surprise. He hesitates to speak, as if he’s afraid he’ll get pulled back into something that might make him change his mind. But curiosity seems to get the better of him. “Why not Logan?” he asks stiffly.
“He… he will hurt me,” I sob.
“I trust Logan,” he says. “He’ll be as gentle as I would be.”
I shake my head mutely.
A sudden suspicion flashes in his eye.
“What has he done to make you so frightened of him?”
I bow my head, only mumbling under my breath a sad little refrain. “Please, not Logan. Not Logan. Please.”
His face becomes an impenetrable mask as I remain kneeling before him, still hoping he’ll take pity on me.
At least let me choose my executioner. Anyone but Logan.
The whole thing is absurd.
The elevator dings, and he pulls me out. Then he suddenly seems to realize I’m naked. He hurriedly divests himself of his leather jacket and wraps it around me. It smells like him. Suddenly, I feel… protected. It’s ridiculous, knowing I’m going to die because of him. If not by his hands, then by his orders.
We stop in front of the cell and I shrink, remembering the tiny damp room. But he leads me into a larger, nondescript room right next door. It’s bare of furniture and objects except for a small metal briefcase by the door.
Moments later, the other Devils enter, all but Everest. They probably didn’t keep him in the loop. He’s the only one who ever seemed to care.
I try to swallow my pain. Why did I run away? If only I had stayed here, none of this would have happened. Damien would have come back to me. He loved me. He said he did.
Vale stops in front of me, and I notice a little flicker of something like triumph in his eyes before it’s smothered by his anger.
“You realize what you did, don’t you, Wells?” he sneers. “By killing Lazarus, you’ve declared an all-out war with Angel.”
“I don’t give a fuck about Angel,” answers Damien steadily.
“You’re wrong. They’ve got more power than you think. Don’t underestimate your enemy.”
“I will kill anyone who touches what’s mine.”
“Your pet is a fucking traitor,” spits out Vale. “You’re really going to start a war over some cunt?”
In a flash, Damien has thrown a fist out, and Vale staggers backward, his hands to his nose, swearing.
“What the fuck? You said you were going to kill her! We found the nanochip in her things! But you bring her here, still breathing, and you fucking punch me over her? What the hell, man?”
“I have every intention of killing her, Vale,” growls Damien. “But I will not listen to anyone insult her.”
I sway and press myself against the wall to prevent myself from falling. That shitty little glimmer of hope just keeps popping up, and it hurts all the more when it’s quashed, again and again, by the words of the only person I love.
