Page 173 of Crimson Promises
However, I swore I could still hear her. Aurora. I protested every step and fought every minute. Cursed Lucifer loudly. Being a prisoner again sent a fresh wave of panic through me.
The demons took me deeper into the passages of the castle. I gritted my teeth against the increasing pressure on my wrists. It made the world around me feel hazy and beyond reach. The taste of defeat was bitter on my tongue. Yet, underneath it all, a flame of resolve began to burn. Thoughts of a menacing archangel were a stark reminder of the bond I still had to fulfill. Regardless of how I felt towards her, getting Aurora back safely was the key to everything. I had to bide my time. Then I could wipe my hands clean of everything.
The Prince of Hell could torture, maim, and try to kill me, but I would never give up.
ChapterTwenty-Two
Bennett
Arank, sulfurous stench assaulted my senses as I was dragged through the opulent halls of the castle, it transformed into the unrelenting and unforgiving as we approached the underbelly of Lucifer’s home. Each breath I took was a struggle, like sucking air through a wet cloth. Despite the deafening echo of the revelry that filtered down into the bowels of the castle, a stony silence remained upon my escorts. They seemed to communicate in grunts or facial expressions I couldn’t see. They reminded me of the demon that had attacked Aurora the night of the car accident, not entirely bright but lethal nonetheless. My angelic vision failed me, giving away only stone and concrete hallways. I strained my ears, hoping for some hint, some whisper of a plan or destination. But there was nothing, only a metronome of rhythmic scratches and splashes.
The relentless grip of the guards tightened on my arms as we approached an iron-barred door. A sense of dread coiled in my stomach. As they fumbled with a grotesque key, its teeth as craggy and menacing as the grin that had lingered on Lucifer's lips, I mustered my strength and protested.
"I demand you release me!" I roared, my voice bouncing off the cold stone walls. But my words were met with nothing, broken only by the grating scrape of the key turning in the lock. Their faces remained impassive as they walked me into an equally cold, depressing hallway of similar closed iron doors. They had slats in them and a slim row of bars.
With a final, uncaring shove, they flung me into the small cell. My body collided with the cold, hard stone floor, the impact reverberating through my bones. I groaned, the taste of coppery blood filling my mouth. I spit into the corner: trickles of violet blood looked like purple rain amongst the dark storm clouds of the prison floor.
The guard’s retreating footsteps echoed in the otherwise silent dungeon, leaving me swallowed by the dark abyss of the cell. The solitude was almost tangible, pressing against me from all sides.
A spark of relief flickered within me. The guards hadn't found my weapon—a concealed dagger, small but deadly. Anilliciumdagger.
My fingers brushed against the cool hilt of the dagger concealed within the lining of my jacket. The weight of it, its unyielding solidity, was a comfort amidst the gnawing uncertainty. Yet, as I traced the familiar etchings of the handle, I couldn’t help but wonder what fate I left Aurora to. I struggled to make sense of the fact that she didn’t appear a victim but a willing participant in Lucifer’s games.
It felt like icepicks were being jabbed into my skull. The more times I tried to circle around the events at the ball, the more convoluted everything felt. The woman dancing in the Devil’s arms resembled nothing of the person I loved.I don’t get it.
But then again, maybe that’s where I had it all wrong. But I did know her. I watched her grow up. Observing Aurora and truly knowing her were two different things. I had been blinded by my foolish ideals and heart before. This wouldn’t be the first time.
In the whorls of the shadows, it was easy to let the demons of the past run free.
Images of Heall Hall and Sara flashed through my mind. A different past, a different life.
I shook my head, trying to focus. But these shadows thrived on fear, anger, and envy.
It was stupid of me to think that Aurora and I had a future. That she would want to be with me, that I deserved her. That it was worth letting myself open up to the heartache again. Power and revenge were the only things that were absolute in this life. Love was an illusion others told themselves to help deal with the loneliness, like faith.
I had long ago abandoned both.
The only way to obtain the power I sought was to complete the terms of the deal with Michael. Either way, I had to rescue Aurora. She could go her way and have a mortal life with Riley. Angelfucker. My blood boiled at the thought, but down, down, down it went. And I’d finally have access to the magic and power I needed to make everyone pay for thinking I was dispensable.
Once again, my fate, for now, was bound to the capricious whims of Lucifer.
* * *
In the hollow depths of this cell, time was a cruel trickster. I’d always known Hell to play by its own rules, but experiencing its distortions first-hand once again was a completely different beast. Seconds felt like hours, hours felt like days, and days… well, days were impossible to measure. A persistent shroud of darkness clung to the cell, obscuring any sense of the passage of time.
Within the abyssal silence of my cell, with nothing but the darkness for company, a tormenting procession of images and thoughts taunted me ceaselessly. Each tick of the nonexistent clock was a twist of the knife, the ever-growing chasm of dread expanding within me.
Yet what carved canyons of despair into my heart was the burgeoning fear that she might succumb to Lucifer's twisted charms. The whispering darkness fed my paranoia, the sickening thought of them together, his hands on her, his lips against her ear, her laughter echoing in his throne room.
Was it possible she had found a twisted solace in his arms? A refuge in the heart of the tormentor himself? The notion was as chilling as the cold stone beneath my fingers.
The cell walls seemed to close in, mirroring the suffocating tightness in my chest. The chill of the stone seeped into my bones, and the marrow resonated with my despair.
In the end, what gnawed at my sanity wasn't the lack of light or the oppressive solitude. It wasn't the haunting echoes of demonic cackles or the monotonous drip of water. It was the relentless fear, the insidious dread that, in trying to save Aurora, I may have pushed her into the arms of the enemy.
The scraping of iron against stone punctured the oppressive silence. Two hulking shadows, grotesque caricatures of men, lumbered into the cell. Their eyes glowed with an unholy light.
I should be relieved to be getting out of here. However, dread was a leaden weight in my gut. The guards' harsh laughter echoed through the tight confines, their glee as grotesque as their twisted faces. As they uncaged me from my prison, the drag of the shackles against the stone echoed like the mournful soundtrack to my impending fate. The grip of the guards on my arms was like steel. The path we took was intentionally different from our way here. The life I had known felt as though it was slipping through my grasp, sinking like a stone in a murky pond.
