Page 57 of Truth Revealed

“Did you… run after the car, Roadrunner?” Betrayal teased.

Pain snorted a laugh before hissing and grabbing his side again.

“You are such a little bitch,” Betrayal griped at him. “Aren’t you pain? You should be able to brush that shit off.”

“Shut the fuck up,” the demon in question retorted. “Want me to stab you in the stomach? See how it feels,” he grumbled.

Death shook his head and righted the recliner, then tilted his head at it. Youth gulped, eyes wide as he watched the exchange and then took a seat like directed.

“Alright, someone needs to call Daria, and we need to figure out what to do for the rest of the night. We can’t stay here. Not now that Pandora can show up at any time.”

Hope pulled out his phone, typing away before holding it to his ear. His eyes lit up a few seconds later, then, “Hey, Daria, are you okay? Is everyone else?”

A few seconds passed before he spoke again, but the relief on his face was enough for Death to relax. “Okay, good. You can bring everyone home now—they’re gone.”

With that taken care of, Death surveyed the living room and ran a hand through his hair. Fuck. The house was trashed, and his heart sank.

This was Daria’s home. She was going to be crushed.

But not… not if they fixed it.

“Alright,” he said, his fist tightening around the blade. “We need to get this place cleaned up. This—”

Pain stumbled to the side, his bloody hand reaching out to the sofa’s edge, and he missed by inches. Betrayal reached out, tattooed hands barely grabbing his arm and hip, and lowered him to the floor. In an instant, Death was there, kneeling down and lifting the white shirt.

“Think that’s a little deeper than I bargained for,” Pain hissed.

Blood was pumping alarmingly fast from the slice in his stomach, and muscle was clearly visible through the serrated wound. A cold towel was thrust in their faces, Hope joining their little party.

“Aw, fuck, I’m sorry guys,” Pain grumbled.

“Don’t have a pity party—you’ll be okay,” Betrayal grumbled, but the pinch in the middle of his brows belied his casualness.

“No, I’m sorry about the kid. He’s gone,” he clarified, then his eyes rolled back in his head and he was out.

Death jerked his head around and sighed. The chair was empty, the front door left wide-open.

“Well, shit.”

DARIA

“Oh shit, is he okay?” was Daria’s first question. Persy’s soft gasp echoed her words before she pushed past her and knelt down beside Pain.

He was pale, which was saying a lot, considering the amount of tattoos he was covered in. Bloody towels were piled up beside him, Betrayal and Misery having taken over nursing duty.

“Yeah, he’ll be okay,” Death replied as he caught her attention. “The couch… not so much.”

“I’m sorry,” Daria said, lips twitching. With tears or humor, she didn’t know. “Was that a joke from Death?”

“Trying to lighten the mood,” he offered, then opened his arms. Daria fell into the hug, breathing in his scent, earth and coffee grounds comforting her, strong even buried underneath the copper and sweat of the remainder of the fight.

“It’ll be okay,” he murmured softly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. His arms tightened around her and Daria swallowed against the lump in her throat.

Her house was trashed, Pandora had wrecked everything, but at least her guys were okay. Pain would be okay too—his head was still intact.

Too bad I can’t say the same.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” she mumbled into his chest.