Page 2 of Ruthless Demon

Horror rips through me.

No. No! Please, no—!

My eyes fly open, and I sit up, shaking and drenched in sweat. The sunny room is gone, replaced by the dim, dank cell Cephalus put me in. Cold bars, cold stone walls, cold stone floor.

Visions of Lucifer dying a bloody death swim through my groggy mind, and a full-body shiver wracks me. Wrapping my arms around myself and swallowing hard, I try to put the last images from the dream out of my mind. I can’t bear to think of him like that, but worry makes it hard to keep my imagination from running wild.

How can I know that he isn’t being hurt or killed right now?

The look in his eyes when I was taken from him, the helpless rage and frustrated protectiveness that cut across his beautiful features, hurts my heart to remember. As I think of that moment, Cephalus’s words come ringing back to me.

I never thought the key to it all would be a human. This is what he gets for falling in love with someone so fragile.

Knowing that I’m only here in this cell to be used as a pawn against Lucifer, to force him back into the King of Hell’s army, makes hot tears of fury slide down my face. If Lucifer submits to Cephalus’s demands in order to get me out of here and tips the scales in the war against Heaven, it could result in the end of reality as we know it. If he doesn’t, I’ll never see him again. I’ll never see my sister or Earth again. I’ll die here, in this cell, on the Hell plane, separated from everything and everyone I know.

As a pawn.

It won’t be a quiet, languishing death either. This place is torturous, and I’m sure if Cephalus decides to put an end to me, it will be as painful as he can possibly make it.

Fuck. Stop thinking like that, Sophia.

I press my back against the cold wall and curl away from the floor as much as possible, huddling like an animal in a kennel. Holding my hands to my chest, I can still feel my heart racing from the nightmare. Lucifer’s tortured roar still echoes in my head no matter how hard I try to push it away. I’m so tired. So afraid. There’s no reprieve from misery here.

Maybe it’s some kind of PTSD from everything that’s happened. Maybe it’s the distant screams drifting through the hall outside from some other room in this place. Maybe it’s just the air here, or the fact that it is literally Hell, but every single time I doze off, I’m tormented by nightmares.

The worst part is howrealthey feel. Like they’re not just figments of my imagination but visions of a possible future.

Shoving down the worry that gnaws at my stomach like acid, I huddle into myself, afraid to fall asleep again.

Chapter2

Lucifer

From my conferenceroom high above the streets of Los Angeles, I watch the world move. The after-effects of the demonic battle in my own building are slowly being handled by the lower-level members of my organization, who are using magic and mind-manipulation to reframe the event into a natural disaster instead of a supernatural attack.

It will take a lot of work to make sure that the truth of the battle has been completely hidden from the eyes of L.A.’s human citizens. It’s a job I would normally take on myself, or at least task Fenriz with, but this time there’s something more important on the line.

Sophia.

Humanity could uncover the truth about demons, about Heaven and Hell, about the war, and in this moment, I would hardly care. I would still be focused on Sophia. The humans could storm my building with their guns and tanks, citations and censures, and I would still only have room in my mind for one woman. Despite all the people moving around down there, L.A. seems cold and empty without her in it.

“I’m planning my return to Hell,” I say, still looking out the window.

There’s a beat of stunned silence from the six demons sitting at the conference table behind me.

“In what capacity, sir?” Fenriz finally asks.

I cough a bitter laugh and shake my head. “The capacity of a man who’s most precious possession has been stolen from him, and who intends to take it back.”

I turn around, taking a bit of satisfaction at their collective flinch. I know I look like Hell itself. My eyes burn red, as they have since she was first stolen, which is the second reason I haven’t been running damage control myself. Presenting a hell-tinged face to a world thirsty for reassurance would only add fuel to the fire.

Hecate raises an imperious eyebrow, pretending that she’s unfazed by my shaky control. “With utmost respect, Lucifer, you don’t think Cephalus will just hand her over at your word, do you?”

“Of course not,” I growl irritably. “He’s going to use her as a bargaining chip against me, to pull me back into the fold and lead his army.”

“But you don’t want to do that,” Dagon says. He’s never been the brightest crayon in the box, but he’s talented and loyal, so I allow him to speak.

“Correct,” I bite out. “I don’t want to do that. I won’t do that.”

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