Sin Rouge glowed red outside the window, nightlife wild and roaring as always music pounding, demons laughing, neon pulsing like a heartbeat. But inside Malerion's private suite, everything was still.
Too still.
Verosika leaned against the counter, stirring coffee with lazy circles. Her hair was messier than usual, makeup smudged just enough to look intentional, and yet she carried herself with the kind of confidence only demons or pop stars could pull off the morning after chaos.
Malerion sat across from her, calm as ever, sipping his own coffee like nothing about last night had shifted the course of their relationship.
It had.
And the silence between them wasn't awkward just unfamiliar.
Finally, Verosika spoke without looking at him.
"So… when do we tell them?"
Malerion didn't flinch. "When they ask."
She snorted. "That'll take five seconds."
Right on cue, the door slid open and Skit and Bit burst in mid-argument.
"I'm telling you she stayed the night!"
"Or maybe she fell asleep on the couch!"
"BIT, SHE DOESN'T FALL ASLEEP ON COUCHES"
They froze when they saw the two at the table.
Stared.
Then whispered in perfect synchronization:
"Oh. My. Hell."
Skit pointed at Verosika. "You have post-kiss hair."
Bit pointed at Malerion. "And you look… relaxed. That's terrifying."
Verosika raised her mug. "Be useful. Go tell Liz she owes me twenty souls."
Skit gasped. "She bet on this?!"
Bit slapped his shoulder. "HA! I told you it wouldn't take another year!"
Malerion took another calm sip. "You're very loud this morning."
"Oh trust me, boss," Skit grinned like a goblin, "we haven't even STARTED being annoying."
Before Verosika could respond, the door opened again.
Dreg.
He didn't look at them. Just walked straight to the coffee machine.
Halfway through pouring, he said:
"…Good."
Verosika blinked. "That's it? No sarcastic line? No 'took you long enough'?"
Dreg shrugged. "If it works, it works." Then walked out.
Bit whispered, "That reaction was scarier than yelling."
Next came Liz. She didn't speak. She just made eye contact with Verosika and mouthed:
I knew.
Verosika mouthed back: fuck you.
Liz took a sip of tea and smiled like a cat.
Then Rafe entered dramatically placing a bottle of champagne on the counter.
"I'm not asking questions," he announced proudly. "I'm celebrating character development."
Verosika choked on her drink. Malerion muttered, "Please don't phrase it like that."
Before either could hide, Quill arrived arms full of tablets and datapads.
"Morning," he muttered, distracted.
Silence.
He finally looked up. Saw them. Saw the atmosphere. Saw Verosika's expression.
Then:
"…Finally."
Verosika threw a napkin at him. "OH MY YOU TOO?!"
Quill shrugged. "I ran predictive models."
Skit whispered, "He data-shipped them."
For a few seconds there was peace.
Exactly forty seven seconds.
Then every screen in the room flared red.
Not gossip. Not news.
Threat.
Quill's posture shifted instantly. Rafe stood straighter. Dreg already reached for weapons.
Liz dimmed her tablet screen. Skit and Bit rushed to tactical monitors.
Malerion stood the calm around him transforming into command.
Liz checked the feed first. "Wrath Ring. Multiple signatures. They're moving as a unit."
Bit zoomed in. "Not random gangs. Someone rallied factions. This is coordinated."
Rafe exhaled sharply. "They think pausing expansion means weakness."
Verosika's playful expression vanished, replaced with cold clarity.
"So now they want to test you."
Malerion nodded. "Yes."
He faced his inner circle loyal, lethal, and ready.
"Prepare."
Dreg cracked his knuckles. Liz smiled softly the smile she used before studying fear. Rafe rolled his shoulders like a strategist entering a chess match.
Skit and Bit loaded weapon commands. Quill activated defenses and transport protocols.
Verosika set her cup down, stood, eyes sharp.
"Where do you need me?"
Malerion turned toward her and this time, his words came with zero hesitation.
"By my side."
A slow, dangerous smile curved her lips.
"Then let's go remind Wrath why they fear well-organized people."
As alarms echoed through the headquarters and Ouroboros mobilized like a living organism, Malerion felt the shift in power, in the air, in them.
No fear.
doubt.
Just certainty.
"No more interruptions," he murmured, mostly to himself.
This time?
Hell wouldn't stop them.
It would witness them.
And react.