CHAPTER 0019

Underworld

The soft glow of the monitors casts an eerie light across the room, flickering over countless documents and encrypted files that clutter my desk. 

The hunt for Ace and my grandmother has consumed me for days, pushing me to the brink of exhaustion. 

My eyes scan through the endless streams of data, looking for any sign, any clue that could lead me to their whereabouts. 

But they're ghosts, slipping through my grasp just as I think I've found them.

Andrew's voice crackles in my earpiece, providing updates on potential leads, but I can sense his frustration. 

He knows as well as I do that we're chasing shadows. 

Still, I can't afford to stop. Ace has been quiet, too quiet, and that can only mean he's planning something. 

The thought of what that might be sends a dark shiver down my spine.

A sharp knock at the door pulls me from my thoughts. I glance at the clock—time to meet the man who may either become a valuable ally or a dangerous rival. 

I push away from my desk, the screens going dark with a flick of my wrist, and straighten my suit. 

The polished black fabric clings to me, a stark contrast to the chaotic mess of my thoughts. 

Tonight, I'm stepping into the human world, a place where lies are currency and power is everything. And I intend to make it clear who holds the real power.

The room beyond the door is dimly lit, a den of human indulgence where the elite gather to pretend they're gods. 

The air is thick with the scent of expensive liquor and unspoken desires, a heady mix that would be intoxicating to a lesser being. But I'm not here to partake in their games—I'm here to play my own.

My eyes land on him almost immediately. The man is tall, broad-shouldered, his tailored suit doing little to hide the muscles beneath. 

His hair is slicked back, his expression one of careful neutrality. 

But I can see the tension in his posture, the way his eyes flicker with unease as I approach. 

He knows who I am—more importantly, he knows what I am.

"Mr. Storm," he greets, extending a hand. His voice is smooth, practiced, the voice of someone who's used to getting what he wants.

I take his hand, gripping it just a little too tightly. "Lucifer," I correct, my tone leaving no room for argument.

He nods, a slight tremor in his hand as he retracts it. "Lucifer, then. I've heard much about you."

"Good things, I hope," I reply, a dark smirk playing on my lips.

"Depends on who you ask." He gestures to a nearby table, a bottle of the finest whiskey already waiting. "Shall we?"

I nod, taking a seat across from him. The table is small, intimate, but the space between us feels like a chasm. 

We're both sizing each other up, searching for weaknesses. The whiskey burns as it goes down, but I barely notice.

"So," he begins, swirling his glass, "I understand you've been busy lately. Word on the street is "you're looking for someone."

"Words on the street tend to be unreliable," I say, keeping my tone neutral.

He chuckles, a sound that grates on my nerves. "Perhaps. But I've also heard you've got some enemies. Dangerous ones."

"And who might those be?" I ask, leaning back in my chair, feigning casual interest.

He takes a sip of his drink, watching me over the rim of the glass. "Names like Ace Astaroth have been mentioned."

I don't react, but internally, I'm on high alert. He knows more than he's letting on. "And what about Ace?"

"He's been moving in some interesting circles," the man continues, setting his glass down with a soft clink. 

"Making alliances, cutting deals. Some say he's preparing for something big."

"Is that so?" I arch an eyebrow, my expression giving away nothing. "And what's your interest in all of this?"

His eyes narrow slightly, a sign that he's testing the waters. "Let's just say I like to keep my options open. Aligning with the right people can be… beneficial."

I lean forward slightly, my gaze locking onto his. "And you think Ace is the right person?"

He hesitates, just for a fraction of a second, but it's enough. "I'm not one to pick sides. Not until I know who's going to win."

A dangerous game he's playing, one that could easily cost him his life. But I'm not here to make enemies—at least, not yet.

"Wise decision," I say, my voice laced with a subtle threat. "But be careful. Choosing the wrong side has consequences."

He nods, understanding the underlying warning. The tension between us is palpable, but before the conversation can continue, something catches my eye.

Across the room, illuminated by the soft glow of dim chandeliers, is Venneca. Her presence is like a knife to my gut, sharp and unrelenting. 

She moves with a grace that's almost hypnotic, her hourglass figure drawing every eye in the room. 

I watch as she navigates through the crowd, oblivious to the predatory states that follow her every step. 

Asmodeus, the reckless fool, is leaving her alone in this cesspool of human filth. 

My anger simmers as I see him wander off towards the bar, leaving her unprotected. 

The man I'm with notices my shift in attention, his eyes following my gaze.

"She's something, isn't she?" he comments, a hint of admiration in his voice.

I grit my teeth, forcing a neutral expression. "She's out of your league," I reply, my voice edged with possessiveness that I barely manage to contain.

"She's a free woman, tho?" he says, clearly not picking up on the warning. "A man would have to be blind not to appreciate beauty like that."

The last vestiges of my patience fray as I watch Venneca accept a drink from another man.

She's smiling, laughing even, as though she's forgotten the danger she's in. 

The alcohol is loosening her up, making her careless. The way she leans into the man's touch makes my vision go red.

Before I can decide what to do, a group of women swarms around her, pulling her towards the stage. 

The sight of her on that stage, the way she wraps her fingers around the metal pole, ignites something dark and primal within me. 

The crowd watches her, their lustful eyes raking over her body, and I know that if I don't act soon, I'll lose control.

The man I'm talking to leans back in his chair, a satisfied grin on his face as he watches her dance. 

"I think I might change my mind about picking sides," he says, his eyes never leaving Venneca. "A woman like that—she could make a man do a lot of things."

The sound of his whistle as he watches her move is the final straw. The room around me blurs, fading into the background as my focus narrows to Venneca. 

I feel the familiar surge of power, the time slowing, freezing the humans in place. 

Only she and I remain unaffected—along with the man who dared to speak about her in such a way.

I'm by her side in an instant, my hand gripping her arm firmly but not harshly. 

She gasps, looking up at me with wide, drunken eyes, her earlier defiance fading as she realizes who has her now.

Without a word, I transport us back to the underworld, away from the prying eyes of humans and into the privacy of my domain. 

The room I bring her to is dark, lit only by the faint glow of embers in the fireplace. She stumbles slightly as I let go, her body still buzzing from the alcohol.

"Lucifer, what the hell was that?" she demands, her words slurred but still sharp.

I turn to face her, my expression unreadable. "You were in danger, Venneca. 

Those men, they weren't looking at you like a person—they were looking at you like prey."

She scoffs, rolling her eyes. "I was just having fun. It's not like they were going to do anything."

The casual dismissal of the threat makes my anger flare. "You think being groped and ogled is fun? You have no idea what they would have done if I hadn't been there."

"I can take care of myself," she snaps, her confidence bolstered by the alcohol coursing through her veins. "I've been through worse."

Her words hit a nerve, reminding me of all the times she's been hurt, betrayed, and left vulnerable. The memories only fuel my rage. 

"Taking care of yourself doesn't mean putting yourself in harm's way," I growl, my voice low and dangerous.

She steps closer, her face inches from mine, challenging me in a way that only she can. 

"And who are you to decide what's dangerous for me? I can make my own choices."

Her defiance is both maddening and intoxicating. I can't decide whether I want to shake some sense into her or pull her closer. 

Before I can do either, her hand lashes out, slapping me across the face with surprising force.

For a moment, we both stand there, stunned by what she's done. 

The air between us crackles with tension, the line between anger and something far more dangerous blurring. Then, something in me snaps.

"That's fucking enough, slut," I growl, my voice deep and dangerous 

That's it, i'll teach her a goddamn lesson.. the one she will never forget 

. . .

I move closer, the tension between us thickening with every step I take. 

She's angry, her breathing quick and shallow, yet there's no sign of retreat. If anything, she stands taller, as if daring me to do my worst.

"You think you're so untouchable, don't you?" I hiss, my voice low and dangerous. 

"So independent that you can walk into any situation and come out unscathed. But you forget, Venneca—you're mine. And I don't share what's mine."

Her jaw clenches, and I can see the rebellion blazing in her gaze. "I'm not your possession, Lucifer. I'm not some toy you can Contr—."

Her words strike like a whip, stoking the dark, possessive side of me that I've tried to suppress. But there's no holding back now. Not after what she's done. Not after she's pushed me to the brink.

"You need to learn your place," I growl, not giving her time to speak. my hand shooting out to grab her wrist, the force of my grip firm but controlled. "And if you've forgotten it, then I'll remind you."

But she doesn't back down. Instead, she yanks her arm out of my grasp with a strength that surprises me. "I know exactly where I stand," she snaps, her voice sharp. "And it's not beneath you."

Her defiance only fuels the fire raging inside me. The urge to reassert my dominance, to make her see reason, burns through every other thought. 

Without another word, I grab her again, this time more forcefully, and drag her toward the door. 

She fights me, her resistance fierce as she digs her heels into the stone floor, but I'm stronger. I'm determined.

The door to the basement looms ahead, the darkness within seeming to beckon. I throw it open, the heavy wood creaking ominously as I pull her inside. 

The air down here is colder, the shadows deeper, wrapping around us like a shroud. The walls are lined with ancient symbols, wards against intruders and a reminder of the power I wield.

I release her wrist, watching as she stumbles back, her eyes darting around the room, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings. 

But instead of fear, I see calculation in her gaze—a mind working quickly to find a way out.

"You think this is going to scare me?" she challenges, straightening up and meeting my gaze head-on. "You're delusional if you think I'm just going to roll over and submit."

I step closer, my presence looming over her like a dark cloud. "You will submit, Venneca. I'll make sure of it."

She doesn't flinch. Instead, she squares her shoulders and lifts her chin, defiance written in every line of her body. "Go to hell."

The corner of my mouth twitches, half amused, half infuriated. "We're already there."

Before she can react, I move swiftly, grabbing her by the hair and forcing her to look up at me. She winces, but there's no fear in her eyes—only a burning resolve. 

"You're only making this harder on yourself," I warn, my voice a low growl.

"Good," she bites back, her hands coming up to claw at my arm, nails digging into my skin. "I don't do it easy."

Her words, her struggle—it all adds fuel to the fire inside me. I push her toward the heavy iron chains that hang from the wall, relics of a time when demons needed to restrain their prey. 

Now, they'll serve a different purpose. 

She stumbles but quickly regains her footing, her eyes darting toward the chains and then back to me, calculating her next move.

But I'm faster. I reach for the chains, securing them around her wrists with practiced precision. 

She fights me every step of the way, her struggles fierce and determined, but I overpower her. 

I step back, taking in the sight of her—bound and furious, yet still unyielding.

"This is your lesson," I say, my voice a dark promise. "Remember it well."

She glares at me, her chest heaving with the effort of her struggle. "You think this will break me?" she spits out, her voice laced with venom. "You have no idea who you're dealing with."

Her words hit me like a challenge, and something dark and primal stirs within me. "Then I'll make sure you never forget."

And with that, I begin.

. . .