Page 7 of Tainted Hearts

“It’s a start.”

Chapter 3

Frankie

“Francesca!” my fathercalls, banging on my bedroom door. Groaning at the use of my full name, I roll out of bed and get up to answer it.

“Yes?” I say with a sigh. Today is my first day off in weeks, and I just want to spend it relaxing, maybe take a nap.

“Lucifer has requested to see you.” His face stays blank, always in soldier mode.

That has my back straightening. “Why?” I ask, hating that there’s a bit of panic in my voice. But it’s the Devil, how can I not be a little worried? The man is scary as fuck. And I live in hell with a lot of demons, so I should be used to it.

“When the King of Hell asks for your presence, you don’t ask questions. You do as you're told.”

“Okay.” I nod. “Just give me a moment.” He nods back and steps away from the door.

I close it and rush to put on something more appropriate to see my king than a pair of sleep shorts and loose tank top.

Feeling like my uniform is a safe bet, I get changed, throwing my bright red locks up into as neat of a bun as I can.

Taking a look to make sure I’m presentable, I head out of my room. The whole way to Lucifer’s office I try to figure out what he could want. Does he want me to move positions? To fire me? No, I’m a good soldier, there’s nothing I did that would cause him to get rid of me.Right?

I give the door three hard knocks and wait for him to answer. “Come in!” His voice is loud and booming, making an unsettling shiver run through my body.

Letting myself in, I close the door and wait for him to direct me further. He looks up at me from his desk. “Francesca, take a seat.” He waves his hand toward the chair in front of his desk.

Taking the seat, I try to ignore the way my heart is pounding in my chest. I’m normally not one who gets rattled very easily, but like I said before, this is the King of Hell. If you're not afraid of him, to some degree, then you're stupid.

“So, I’m sure you're wondering why I’ve asked you here today.” He folds his hands together on his desk, raising a brow at me in question.

“Yes, sir.” I nod.

“You see, my daughter, Abigail, is on earth.” At the mention of her name, my whole body becomes alert.

“Is she alright?” I ask, a little too eagerly.

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