Page 2 of Hunted By Fear

I’m shocked he kept it together long enough to get the meager information she was able to give. Not that it did any good; Rome still got away, and Aeri’s lost to us.

I swing my legs over the side of the bed, letting my feet hit the ground with a sigh.

Demons don’t need to sleep as often as humans, but ever since she’s been gone, I haven’t slept at all. Every time I close my eyes, I remember the way her eyes looked, wide and full of fear, the night she ran from the club.

I don’t know what Rome did to her, but I know him well enough to know it was sick and twisted. She ran, alone and afraid, across multiple states and into the arms of strangers in an attempt to escape him, and in the end, we’re the reason she was found.

We failed her.

On the off chance I don’t see her fear, I’m met with her cries of ecstasy as she fell apart so beautifully for me.

That’s arguably worse. She had no idea it was me at the time, and the thought of never being with her for real is eating away at me. Even the memories that should be pleasant are tainted by that stupid mortal name I gave in hopes of getting closer to her.

It worked. Though at what cost?

Dragging a hand through my hair, I let out a sigh of frustration.

Since when am I this person? Why the fuck do I care?

None of that matters. The fact is, I do, and I won’t be able to rest again until she’s back safe with us.

2 months

“Where is he?” The question is little more than a growl as I slam Josiah back into the stone wall in the alley beside the club, knocking the wind from his lungs.

I know that if he can't breathe, he can’t answer, but I can’t bring myself to give a damn as I yank him back toward me so that we're only a few inches away.

He cringes, shrinking in on himself in an attempt to get away from me, but it’s no use. He’s got all of my attention right now; unfortunately for him.

“I-I don’t know,” he stammers, his voice shaking in fear. Good, he should be afraid. “He hasn’t answered any calls in almost a month,” he quickly adds as I continue to glare at him for his lack of information.

How does no one know?

Despite how pissed off I am, I can see that he’s telling the truth. After all, I’ve known Josiah for over a millennium.

With a growl, I toss him to the ground, and he quickly scurries away on his hands and knees, desperate to put some distance between us.

Not quickly enough, though.

Before I can think better of it, my rage gets the best of me.

Pressing my foot to his back, I slam him down onto the ground.

“Call them,” I hiss, and despite my lack of explanation, I know he knows exactly what I’m talking about.

“No, please,” he whimpers, clawing at the ground as if he has a chance to get away.

“Call them,” I repeat, my voice deeper and more haunting than usual as my demonic form begins to seep through as I lose my temper.

“Wh-what a-are you going to d-do?” His whimpering only pisses me off further, but before I can smash his head into the pavement, the shimmer of his wings appearing saves him… Sort of.

“I’m going to ensure you know whose side you belong on.”

“Wh-Ahh!” I cut his question short as I grip his wings, digging my claws into them as I begin to tear them from his back.

I don’t sever them completely, despite the urge. No, that would defeat the purpose. I need him to tell me if he sees Rome, and if I rip his wings from his back, he’ll be unable to enter Heaven.

So I fight against every urge in my body to make him like me, like us, and only sever them enough to leave him in excruciating pain.