As dark as the sorrow she was named for, she appeared by his side. A mere wisp only he could see.
Thorn pulled the medallion from his pocket and handed it to her. “I need you to take this to Devyl. He’ll know what to do with it. And tell him that I haven’t abandoned him. I’ll be in touch as soon as I can.”
She scowled. “You’re bidding me to do good?”
“I am.”
That only baffled her more. But she faded away and left him to continue his fight.
Thorn lifted his shield and chased after a demon that was flying for Adidiron’s back. He didn’t get far before the demon turned to face him with a snide grin that was all too familiar.
Paimon.
Damn him.
“Hello, my son.”
Thorn shuddered at his “friendly” greeting. “Don’t call me that.”
“Why? It’s what you are, aren’t you?”
Thorn curled his lip. “Just because you carried my father’s sperm doesn’t make us related. Really, Paimon … you’re just a two-bit pimp doing whatever you’re told.”
“That makes your mother a whore, does it not?”
Thorn dodged the sword strike that would have severed his head had it made contact. “Your words are as clumsy as your fighting skills. My mother sold her soul to conceive me. That’s an undeniable fact. Call her what you will. Makes no never mind where I’m concerned.”
Mostly because his mother had hated him the moment he’d been born over said bargain. And Thorn hated everyone who’d had a hand in his conception—his mother, father, Jaden, Paimon, and Lucifer. End of the day, they’d all taken turns screwing him.
Which was nothing compared to what his stepfather had done the day he’d learned of their bargain. And the fact that his “beloved son and heir” wasn’t really his, but rather a cruel hoax played on his gullible stupidity by a conniving bitch and her demon lover so that she could maintain her position and her lover could connive to steal his throne.
Aye, Thorn still had those scars.
Outside and in.
It was why he fought so hard now. No one should be used by others for their own gain. Damned because someone else was selfish and had sold them out without any regard for what it would mean to them once the truth became known. He’d had no choice in what had been done to him.
That anger and hatred had turned him into a monster at a time in his human existence when he should have been carefree and looking forward to a life well spent. Instead, he’d become the very thing his stepfather had wanted him to be—had trained him to be.
The fiercest warlord to ever lead his army over blood-saturated fields. And his stepfather’s head had been one of the first Thorn had claimed as a trophy—payback for the betrayal of casting him aside so very brutally over something he couldn’t help.
There, for a time, Thorn had been content and happy to play the beast, and slaughter everything he came into contact with.
Until the day he’d seen himself for what he really was. And that sight still haunted him in a way no demon or monster ever could. For he knew the truth.
He was the scary thing that gave grown men and ruthless demons nightmares.
But never again.
Thorn raked a sneer over Paimon’s horned, ghastly form. “Crawl home, you fetid bastard. Slither into your pit and stay there until you find some semblance of decency.”
Paimon laughed in his face. “You’ve been corrupted by humanity. How can you put faith in something so pathetic and weak?”
He smirked. “We live by faith. Not by sight or proof.”
“How can you have faith after the way they’ve turned on you and done you?”
Shrugging, Thorn answered with the simple truth. “The testing of faith produces perseverance, and faith without action is worthless.”
