“I’m ready to go home, Andrew. I’m serious.”
“Well, I’m not ready to take you there.”
The engine roared as Andrew pushed the gas pedal to the floor. I shrieked as the momentum threw me backward.
“Andrew!”
“Andrew,” Callen mocked with a laugh.
Panic overcame rationality, my body screaming at me to get out.
Get out. Get out.Get out!
“Stop the car!” I screamed, throwing myself against Andrew’s seat over and over, as hard as the adrenaline firing through my veins would allow.
“Damien!” shouted Callen. “Sack up and get her under control back there.”
My attention flew immediately to the silent boy next to me.
“Don’t,” I warned, ready to claw my way out this fucking car by any means necessary. “Don’t you dare fucking touch me.”
Warring intentions plagued his eyes and, for a moment, he didn’t move. Only stared back at me.
“Damien,” Callen growled.
The dominance in Callen’s command broke Damien from whatever defiance he may have been considering. His hands shook as he reached for me.
“Just don’t fight me, okay?” he pleaded through a whisper.
I didn’t give him a chance to grab me. The fire inside surged again. I put my back against the side of the car and kicked at Damien, landing blow after blowon his hands, stomach, and head.
He fought against me, but his half-hearted battle was no match for my adrenaline induced frenzy. I screamed defiantly with every kick and, rather than continuing to fight, Damien huddled into himself, covering his head and side as he cowered against the car.
“Goddammit, Damien,” Callen spat. “I have to do everything for you. He twisted around with violent intention, reaching into the backseat and, when I aimed my kicks at him instead, it was useless. Callen was strong. Too strong. He batted away my assault like I was nothing more than a fly buzzing around his head.
The car started to blur as Callen wrapped his steely hands around my throat and squeezed. Pain shot down my spine from the pressure of his hold.
“You’re going to listen, and we’re going to have fun.”
All sense of humanity had been drained from the blue irises pinning me with a sadistic glare. Evil was the only source of light, and the gleam was enough to confirm one terrifying thought before I drifted out of consciousness.
I was going to die tonight.
I woke half off the bed, bare skin prickling from the cold and heart thundering in my chest. The duvet had lost the fight against my restless sleep and slumped in a heap on the floor, leaving me with nothing but Joe’s clothes and clean scent.
The bed was empty beside me. I’d half expected to wake and find Lucifer standing beside me.
Lucifer.
My dreams came flooding back, the memories bringing every unwanted emotion with them. His lips pressed lovingly against my eyelids, his breath on my forehead, the way he lifted my hands and kissed the belt marks until the red and purple color melted away.
Relief hit when I saw smooth skin where the belt should’ve left its signature. It curdled just as fast. The literal Devil had kissed bruises away; the man in my bed had put them there. That contrast rang like a fire alarm I couldn’t shut off.
And then…
You have forty-eight hours to deliver the last soul, seeing as you’re incapable of delivering the vengeance you begged for in death. Then we can be done with one another.
Forty-eight hours.
