The wind roared through the penthouse like an angry animal, driving shards of glass across the polished floor.
Rose instinctively threw up her arms to shield her face, but before a single shard could touch her, something warm and unyielding wrapped around her shoulders.
Vincent's arm.
The world seemed to still for an instant. She could feel the heat radiating from him, the solid press of his chest against her back — but beyond that, she felt the faint, rhythmic thrum of something not human. It was like standing in the echo of a cathedral bell that only her bones could hear.
The protection vanished as quickly as it came. Vincent stepped in front of her, and the barrier he had formed between them and Damien's strange, red-eyed figure shimmered brighter, flickering like a dying flame.
---
The siblings stepped through the broken balcony, shards crunching under their shoes. They moved stiffly, like puppets dragged forward by invisible strings.
"What happened to you?" Rose demanded, her voice cutting through the storm.
Damien's lips moved, but the voice that came out was not his.
"Nothing… compared to what will happen to you."
Lucien's eyes rolled back for a moment, then locked forward again. "You were hard to reach, little CEO. Now… you're exactly where we want you."
Vincent didn't look away from them. "Who's holding the strings?"
The answer came in the form of a cold laugh — not from any of the siblings, but from somewhere above.
A figure descended slowly, stepping onto the jagged remains of the balcony railing as though it were solid ground. The storm didn't touch them. Their long coat barely stirred in the wind.
"Always dramatic, Vincent," the newcomer said, their voice smooth as oil. "Even when you're about to lose."
Rose's stomach twisted. She'd never seen this person before, yet something about them felt wrong. Like the air was bending slightly around them.
---
Vincent's jaw tightened. "Azriel."
The newcomer inclined their head. "You remember me. How sweet. I wondered if your fall had scrambled that pretty head of yours."
Rose glanced between them. "You know him?"
Vincent didn't answer her. His voice was low, but she caught the weight in it. "He's one of the old guard. Still in service. And very good at breaking the rules without ever getting caught."
Azriel smiled faintly. "You took her from the list, Vincent. She was mine."
"She's human. She's not yours to take."
"Oh, but she is. And you—" Azriel's eyes slid to Rose, lingering just long enough to make her skin crawl "—are exactly as valuable as I told Hell you would be."
---
Lightning flashed, painting the room in white for a heartbeat. In that blink of light, the siblings moved — lunging forward as one.
Vincent raised a hand, and the barrier surged outward like a wave, slamming them back toward the balcony. But Azriel stepped down lightly from the railing, and the wave simply dissolved against them.
"You can't protect her forever," Azriel said. "Even if you could, you wouldn't want to. You know how this ends, Vincent. You take what's precious, or you break the only rule that still binds you to us."
"I'd rather burn."
"Then let's see if you're telling the truth."
---
The storm howled louder. Furniture rattled across the penthouse floor. Rose grabbed the edge of the kitchen counter to keep her footing, her heart hammering.
She'd seen Vincent fight before — but never like this. Never against someone who moved as fast as he did, someone who met his every strike as if they knew it was coming before he did.
Every blow between them shook the air. Sparks burst where their hands met. The scent of ozone burned her nose.
The siblings didn't attack her directly — they hovered at the edges, red-eyed and twitching, like vultures waiting for the kill.
---
Rose ducked as a wave of force split the air, a jagged crack opening in the wall beside her. She had no weapon — nothing but the heavy glass vase on the counter. Without thinking, she grabbed it and hurled it toward Lucien.
It struck his shoulder with a dull thud. For a moment, he staggered — and his eyes cleared just slightly. His mouth opened in a gasp.
"Help—"
The red glow flared again, cutting him off. He straightened and smiled at her in a way that wasn't his.
Her stomach turned cold.
---
Vincent caught Azriel's wrist mid-strike, twisting sharply. "Release them. Now."
"Or what?" Azriel purred. "You'll kill me? That would be adorable. You've forgotten, Vincent — you don't kill devils without the price doubling on your own soul."
Vincent's grip tightened. "Then maybe I'll pay it."
The storm outside screamed. For a moment, Rose thought the building itself would tear apart.
Azriel's smile didn't falter. "Brave. But not smart."
And with a sudden, brutal shove of energy, Vincent was thrown backward — straight toward Rose.
They hit the floor hard, his arm curled around her again to take the impact. She gasped, her breath knocked out, but he was already rising, pulling her with him.
---
"Run," he said.
"I'm not leaving you—"
"Run, Rose!" His voice cracked with a kind of desperation she'd never heard from him before. "I can hold him, but if you're here, he wins."
Her throat closed. Every instinct screamed not to go — but something in his tone, some iron thread of command, pushed her legs into motion.
She sprinted toward the hallway, glass crunching under her heels. Behind her, the sounds of the fight rose — the sharp clang of impact, the hiss of power tearing through the air.
---
She barely made it to the stairwell when the world went silent.
Too silent.
No storm. No fight. Just the sound of her own breathing.
Then — footsteps.
Not Vincent's.
She turned, and Azriel was there, standing in the narrow hall, the faintest smear of blood at the corner of their mouth.
"You run well," they said, as if commenting on the weather.
She backed up a step. Her hand fumbled for the railing behind her. "Where is he?"
Azriel tilted their head. "Still fighting. For now. But you and I — we should talk about what happens when he loses."
Rose's pulse roared in her ears. "I'm not making any deal with you."
Azriel smiled slowly. "You think this is a negotiation. It's not."
They stepped closer — but then something moved in the corner of her vision. A shadow. And then hands — warm, familiar — grabbed her waist and yanked her backward through a door that hadn't been there a moment ago.
The door slammed shut.
---
She blinked — and the world outside the penthouse was gone. She was standing in a dimly lit space that felt… endless. The floor was smooth black stone. The ceiling arched high overhead, lost in shadow.
Vincent was in front of her, breathing hard, his knuckles bloodied. "I told you to run out of the building, not into Azriel's arms."
"You think I chose that?" she snapped, still shaking.
A faint smirk crossed his lips. "Fair point."
Her eyes darted around. "Where are we?"
"A pocket between worlds. They can't touch you here. Not unless I invite them in."
---
For a moment, the tension between them shifted — not gone, but layered with something warmer. He reached out, brushing a shard of glass from her hair.
"You scare me more than Azriel ever could," he said quietly.
She blinked. "Me?"
"You make me want to keep something I know I'll lose." His eyes locked on hers, and for a heartbeat, she thought he might kiss her.
But instead, he stepped back, letting the shadows swallow him a little. "Rest here. I'll finish this."
---
He vanished before she could argue.
And Rose was left alone in the silent, endless space — the only sound the faint echo of her own heartbeat.