CHAPTER 0011

Underworld 

I begged her to stay, even though I knew she couldn't hear me. My voice cracked with desperation as I whispered, pleaded, and cursed the universe. 

I was a desperate idiot, clinging to the fragile hope that somehow, my words might reach her, might keep her tethered to this world. 

Fuck, I fucking loved her.

Is this what love feels like? Such a strange, overwhelming feeling—love. 

It consumes you, warps your very being until you would do anything, sacrifice everything, for the one person who makes your heart beat faster. 

It's a paradox, really. Something so powerful, so devastating, yet so beautiful. The idea of love was something I thought I'd mastered, but this... this was something entirely different. 

This love wasn't about power or control. It wasn't about winning or losing. It was about her. 

It was about doing everything in my power to protect her, to make her happy, even if it meant breaking my own rules, even if it meant losing myself in the process.

It was a love that defied logic, one that pushed me to my limits and beyond. I would burn the world down if it meant keeping her safe. 

I would face my father's wrath, defy my very nature, and beg for mercy from gods I didn't even believe in if it meant she would stay with me.

This time, my brother Asmodeus saw it too—how desperate I looked, how utterly broken I was at the thought of losing her. It was the first time he'd ever seen me like this, vulnerable and raw, and I half-expected him to mock me, to relish in my weakness. But he didn't. 

He stood there in silence, watching as I poured my heart out to a girl who might never wake up, to a love that might be lost forever.

I begged for the gods to listen to me, to not let her die. 

I prayed to every deity, every force of the universe that I had once scorned, hoping that someone, something, would take pity on me. 

I had never been one to pray, to rely on forces beyond my control, but for her, I would do anything. 

I would grovel at the feet of the gods if it meant she would open her eyes, if it meant I could hear her voice one more time.

Days passed. Six days, to be exact. Six days of agony, of waking up with a knot in my stomach, wondering if today would be the day she slipped away. 

Each morning, the first thing I did was visit her, sitting by her side, staring at her peaceful face, begging her silently to stay with me. 

I would hold her hand, tracing the lines on her palm, hoping for some sign, any sign, that she was still with me.

But every day, she remained silent, unmoving, a sleeping beauty trapped in a nightmarish dream.

On the seventh day, I did the same. I woke up, dread heavy in my chest, and went to her room. 

But this time, I brought cookies with me. I knew I'd be there for a while, and as much as I hated to admit it, I'd need something to keep me going. 

It was a small, pathetic attempt to bring some normalcy into the hell I was living.

I opened the door, the plate of cookies in my hand, and there she was—still and serene as always. But something was different. 

There was a subtle shift in the air, a flicker of movement that caught my eye. 

And then, I saw it—her eyes, slowly opening, blinking in confusion as she looked around the room.

The plate slipped from my hand, crashing to the floor, forgotten in an instant. My heart stopped, and for a moment, I couldn't breathe. 

Tears welled up in my eyes, unbidden and unstoppable, as the shock and excitement washed over me in waves. 

Before I knew it, I was sprinting towards her bed, my legs moving on their own, my arms reaching out to her.

I wrapped her in the tightest embrace I could manage, my heart pounding in my chest as I held her close, feeling her warmth, her breath, her life. She was breathing. 

She was alive. She was moving, and I couldn't hold back the sobs of relief that tore through me.

I couldn't explain the joy I felt in that moment, the pure, unadulterated happiness that filled every corner of my being. 

It was like the sun had finally risen after an endless night, like the weight of the world had been lifted off my shoulders.

Her existence made my every day better, brighter. Her mere presence was enough to chase away the darkness, to fill my world with light and hope. 

She was my reason, my purpose, the one thing that made this chaotic life worth living.

And as I held her in my arms, I knew with absolute certainty that I would never let her go. 

I would fight for her, protect her, love her with everything I had, because she was worth it. She was everything. 

"I fucking love you, Venneca," I whispered into her hair, my voice thick with emotion. "I fucking love you..."

Venneca's eyes widened, staring at me with confusion as I held her close, wrapping my tail around her waist. 

She didn't say anything, but she returned the hug, her body relaxing into mine. The warmth and comfort of her presence was a balm for the raw wound of my worry and guilt.

After a moment, she pulled back slightly, her eyes searching mine. "Lucifer, where are we? What happened?"

I swallowed hard, trying to steady my voice. "We're safe now, back in my realm. But… that night, there was a bomb. My grandmother—she's my father's mother—and Ace, my father's brother—they were behind it."

Her eyes grew even wider with shock. "Your own family?"

I nodded, feeling the weight of the betrayal like a heavy stone in my chest. "Yes. They set up the trap. The bomb was meant to kill us both."

Venneca's gaze softened with concern. "And how did we get away?"

I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck as I relived the chaos. "You took the hit meant for me. I barely got us out of there before it exploded. You were unconscious for days… I thought I'd lost you."

Her face paled, her eyes filled with a mix of fear and relief. "I remember the pain, but not much else. I was so scared."

I reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "I was terrified too. I've never been so afraid. When I saw you hurt, all I could think about was how I should've protected you better."

She shook her head slightly, a pained look crossing her features. "I made my own choice to be there with you. I don't want you blaming yourself for what happened."

"I don't have a choice but to blame myself," I said, my voice tinged with frustration. "If I hadn't been so distracted, if I hadn't let my guard down…"

Venneca reached out, her hand resting gently on mine. "We both made choices, and we have to live with the consequences. But we're here now. We're alive."

I squeezed her hand, trying to push away the lingering darkness of my guilt. 

"I should've known they were planning something. They've always resented me. But I didn't expect them to go this far."

Her eyes searched mine with a mix of concern and determination. "What happens next? What are you planning to do about them?"

I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of responsibility settle heavily on my shoulders. 

"I need to deal with them. They can't get away with this. But for now, I need to focus on keeping you safe and figuring out how to prevent any more attacks."

Her gaze was steady, her concern evident but not overwhelming. "And what can I do to help?"

I shook my head, a faint smile touching my lips despite the seriousness of the situation. "You should focus on recovering. I don't want you pushing yourself too hard."

She nodded, a look of resignation crossing her face. "Alright."

I gave her a grateful nod, feeling a flicker of warmth despite the darkness of our situation. 

The silence that followed was comfortable, filled with unspoken understanding. 

We didn't need to make promises or declarations. For now, just knowing that we were both here, alive and together, was enough.

As I looked at Venneca, her presence was a stark reminder of what was at stake. 

I'd do whatever it took to protect her and ensure that those who tried to hurt us would pay for their actions. 

But for now, I'd focus on the immediate and the real—making sure she was safe and recovering, and preparing for whatever came next.