Page 102 of Wicked Believer
“Open it.” He nods toward the tabloid.
I shake my head. I don’t want him to be able to see or hear what I’ve been planning, and I’m not exactly well-versed in how this mind-to-mind-connection thing works yet. “There’s nothing in there that I want to—”
“I said, open it.” He doesn’t raise his voice, but the effect the order has is the same.
My blood runs cold, my mouth feeling drier than the Sahara.
Team Apocalypse: 1. Team Humanity: 0.
With shaking hands, I open the magazine to the corresponding page, trying my best not to send anything along the connection between us, but I have no idea if I’m even doing it correctly.
More stolen moments. More pictures of me and Az.
All put on display to sell a lie. A gossip story.
Each piece of fake news more and more damning than the last.
“It’s not what you think,” I repeat, suppressing the bitterness I feel at the fact he wouldeverdare question my loyalty. It doesn’t matter that I’m working against him to stop the apocalypse now or that I enjoyed my stupid dream. I’m doing this for usboth, even if he can’t see it yet. “I would never betray you, Lucifer. You know I—”
“Spare me the excuses, Charlotte.” He lifts a hand to silence me.
Is that all my love is to you? An excuse?
I try and send the thought down the line between us intentionally, and now that I’m aware of it, I can feel the exact moment it lands. His frustration with me flares.
I close my mouth, swallowing repeatedly.
But if he knows what I’mactuallyplanning, how I’m attempting to undermine him and Michael, he doesn’t let onto it.
It’s not a betrayal. Or that’s what I tell myself.
It’s a desperate plea for his mercy, to save humanity.
Isn’t it?
“I know you’re not fucking my brother.” He says it so artlessly, so confident and brazen that I cringe. “You’re notthatkind of whore.”
I flush deep.
Hemeansto humiliate me. To remind me of my place.
I deserve as much for the way I’ve behaved, honestly.
I draw a slow, fortifying breath in and out through my nose. “Then if you know none of its true, then why am I—”
“I told you to leave my family to me.” He tosses a dossier he and his shadows materialize out of thin air onto the table in front of me. This time, he doesn’t have to order me to open it. I flip back the cover readily.
The contents reveal several more photos of me and Az.
Me throwing the water bottle at the paparazzo.
Me kicking the man while he was down, his blood on the spike of my heel.
And the most damning yet ...
Azmodeus holding me over his shoulder as we step into the ether, into what appears in the photo to be a black endless hole for all humanity to see.
I’d almost think it was photoshopped if I didn’t know any better.
