“I called my mom, you know,” she started softly, her eyes darting to the window. “From the cabin. I hadn’t talked to her since Anya died but I thought-” She chewed on her bottom lip as if it hurt her to say her sister’s name. “I thought maybe she had at least one motherly instinct. She refused to help me, but I made a mistake. I told her I was at one of Ashford’s places. Both my parents knew the location of the cabin. If I had to guess, it was how Santiago Tijuana found us.”

I stilled at her admission. Not because I was surprised, but because it showed her fragile trust. It bloomed like a delicate flower between us and I’d do anything to keep it.

“Byron came to the same conclusion,” I said and her eyes flashed in surprise. “He called me during our flight. He was ready to come after me.”

Her full lips curved into a soft smile. “The Ashford brothers are fond of Gabriel.”

“And you.”

She let out a heavy breath. “They pretty much saved Gabriel and me. Byron and Royce stood up to my parents and then set Gabriel and me up so I could finish college. Without Aurora, Willow, and them, who knows where we’d have ended up.”

Fuck, I wished it was me that was with her through it all. I thought I was doing her a service by not hunting her down and pulling her to the pits of hell with me. It turned out it was where she would have been safe. Under my protection.

“You’d have found a way.” And I meant it. Despite her vulnerability, she had a quiet kind of strength. And stubbornness.

I watched her delicate, pale neck bob as she swallowed and our gazes locked. Staring at her was like staring at the light, or crystal blue ocean that you want to drown in. Because it would be the best kind of way to go.

“Raphael?”

“Yes?”

“If something happens to me-”

“Nothing will happen to you,” I growled. This world would burn in the fires of hell if it dared take her away from me.

A small smile touched her lips. “You can be scary, you know.” Her eyes flickered to my hand. “Is that why you have those words tattooed on your hand?”

I shook my head. “I was six the first time I killed a man. I stabbed him sixty-six times. People took it as a bad omen.” She gave me a confused look. “Six-six-six. It’s a sign of the devil.”

“Oh.”

“Scared?”

She tilted her head, studying me. There was no fear in her eyes. “No. Not sure why, but no, I’m not.”

“Good.” Because her lightness might just be my salvation.

We sat in silence, both of us lost in our own thoughts. Sometimes I feared I’d become my father. I’ve lived and breathed cruelty for as long as I could remember. When I killed the first man for raping a woman, our maid, my father was proud. Not for defending an innocent maid, but for being savage.

It was my mother who called me a savior. I guess saviors came in all shapes and sizes.

“My parents hated Anya so much.” Sailor broke the silence, heavy with the ghosts of our pasts. I could hear pain in her voice and felt it as if it was my own. “If you’re the devil, can you please shove my parents into the last level of Dante’s inferno?”

“For you, anything,” I told her slightly amused. “You know, they didn’t deserve you and your sister,” I told her softly.

I’d find out every single thing about them and then chase her ghosts away. Yes, the woman was slightly infuriating. Gorgeous, smart, and opinionated. Strong, too, despite the fear she held buried somewhere deep down. And I fucking loved every single thing about her.

It had only been less than twenty-four hours since I dropped the marriage condition on her. And it was only now that she gave her agreement that I felt relief wash over me. Not that she really had a choice. But for appearance’s sake, I’d let her think she did. Because this devil would follow his woman to the ends of this Earth.

Everything about her intrigued me. I kept saying it was to keep my brother safe, but I was fucking lying to myself. Consequences be damned, I wantedher. Just like the devil - I aimed for her soul, heart, and body. I was way too invested in this impending marriage. In her. I had been for a very long time.

And the girl didn’t even fucking remember me. For eight long years, she lurked in my mind. I even tried to find her. To no avail. She used a fake ID to enter the club. Never in my wildest dreams had I thought she’d land in my fucking lap.

It turned out I had a Nikolaev to thank again. They just kept on giving, didn’t they?

“So what are you going to do now without your cook?” Sailor asked abruptly changing subjects, her eyes locked on the window overlooking the ocean. “It will be hard to find another good-looking cook.”

“Are you jealous,Reina de nieve?”