Page 139 of Crescendo

“I didn’t want to wake him up,” I whisper, explaining away some of the stealth.

But not all of it.

“So you just sneak out,” he says almost matter-of-factly. Birds fly. Daniela Manzano runs away when his back is turned.

After three months of apathy, the venom in his tone is a slap. It’s reassurance; he really does hate me.

“I...I didn’t want to hurt him. Espi,” I admit while shrugging the arm with the duffel to keep it from sliding off. “He’s looking at schools for me, and he’s so excited and...”

“You’ve been stringing him along this whole time,” the devil surmises.

“I...” I’ve uttered so many lies to myself these past few months that they should just roll off my tongue, but it seems impossible to lie to him. “It doesn’t matter,” I stammer, glancing over at the front door. “You guys are better off if I leave—”

“Just cut the shit,” Lucifer commands, yanking on my arm. “This is about one fucking thing. You still think abouthim.”

I turn away again but not quickly enough to hide the guilt that I know crosses my face. The nightmares don’t come every night, but when they do, I wake up screaming. Of course he’s heard me through the paper-thin walls.

“Yes,” I choke out. “I still think about him...” Something about Lucifer’s frown makes me add, “I did kill him, after all.”

That woman... She didn’t sound like me, but Lucifer doesn’t seem puzzled by the boast.

“You did,” he says carefully. “Having second thoughts?”

“No, he deserved to die,” I say so fiercely that my teeth chatter and we both turn to eye the stairs in case Espi appears at the top of them. Seconds pass in silence, and his door never opens. “I don’t regret it,” I say softly, returning my gaze to the man beside me. “Idon’t.”

“Oh, really?” A smile tugs on his mouth. One of those dangerous semi-snarls he wore while facing off against Mack. It’s the mark of a wolf who already has his prey cornered before they even know it. “Then tell me something.” He jerks his chin to the door. “Why sneak out in the middle of the goddamn night?”

“I...just. I. You... It’s not like you even want me here,” I toss back.

The devil’s eyes narrow. “What the fuck do I have to do with anything?”

“What?” I would laugh if the noise wouldn’t wake Espi. What did he have to do with anything? A better question was why this traitorous part of me seemed to believe he affectedeverything. “Because I can’t stand living here another second—” I bite the rest of the words off before they ever have the chance to leave my throat. I need to leave. I tell myself that and flex my feet against the floor.Leave.But, when I shift to the right, I run into his shoulder.

“Why?” he demands while I stumble to catch my balance.

“Because...”

“Just fucking say it.” He takes a step closer—and that one motion has never seemed more dangerous.

I stagger back, grasping behind me with one hand for the wall.

“Because what?”

Good old obedient Lynn would say nothing. She’d bite her lip and hope that her silence would appease him enough to avoid abeating. She might add another lie on top of it all for good measure.It doesn’t matter.

Broken Daniela is too tired for games. “Because ofyou.”

The devil doesn’t know how to process that. His eyes narrow further and crackle with blue fire—hotter than any flames Hell could contain. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Allmyfault that you what? Miss that fucking bastard?”

“I don’t know.” Numb, I stare beyond his head, watching the shadows dance across the backsplash above the sink. This house, with all of its charms, has become a newer, smaller cage worse than any Vinny could ever devise.

That fucking bastardat least bathed his precious, captive bird in attention, however cruel it was. Apart from restraining me when the need arises, Dante won’t even touch me. When he does speak, it’s to bark out a few simple commands—eat, sleep, stay, go. Hell, this...thisis the longest conversation we’ve had since the morning I woke up in the hospital.

It shouldn’t matter...burn, sting, throb, ache, tear me apart, roll my ruined soul in jagged glass.

The loss of one man’s heat shouldn’t fucking hurt so much. At the end of the day, the moral of this story is that the devil is harder to withdraw from than heroin. The poor princess can’t shake the craving. She can’t spend another fucking minute suffocating under the pretense that vanquishing one scary monster was enough to make her whole again.

Because itisn’t.