Zarachs pov

Hell was its usual chaotic mess—flames roaring high, the air thick with sulfur, and distant screams blending with the constant cacophony of destruction. Normally, I could ignore it. But today, the chaos felt... sharper, like a string pulled too tight, ready to snap. Something was brewing. I could feel it clawing at the edges of my senses, and it wasn't good.

Marax strode beside me, his usual smug grin plastered on his face. As always, he looked completely unbothered. I, on the other hand, wasn't so at ease. There was a gnawing tension in my chest. We were in Hell for a reason, and I had a gut feeling it was tied to Athena. That girl had been stirring up trouble without even realizing it, and Satan's obsession with her wasn't exactly subtle.

"You feel that?" I muttered, scanning the fiery horizon. The air was dense, oppressive. Something was off.

Marax raised an eyebrow, stretching his arms lazily. "Yeah, I feel it. Too quiet, even for this hellhole. You think it's Satan's latest tantrum?"

I frowned. "Probably. He's been obsessed with Athena for months now. Whatever he's planning, it's going to cause a mess."

Marax chuckled, an easy sound that grated against my nerves. "When isn't he causing a mess? Let's check in with Lucifer. Maybe he knows what's going on."

I grimaced. Lucifer wasn't exactly known for his transparency, but it was worth a shot. If Satan's plans involved Athena, we needed to know—and fast.

We made our way to Lucifer's domain, where he spent most of his days lounging on his throne, radiating casual indifference. His realm was eerily quiet compared to the rest of Hell, a contrast that always unsettled me.

When we entered, he was right where we expected him, reclining on his throne like he didn't have a care in the world. His wings—once glorious and golden—were now tattered, a testament to his fall. Even so, there was an undeniable power about him, a presence that commanded attention.

Lucifer cracked an eye open as we approached, his lips curling into a sly smile. "Well, if it isn't my two favorite troublemakers. What brings you to my humble abode? Shouldn't you be out terrorizing the mortals?"

Marax stepped forward, his grin widening. "Missed you too, Luc. We're here for a chat. You know, the usual. Satan's up to something."

Lucifer tilted his head, feigning curiosity. "Satan? Up to something? Shocking."

I wasn't in the mood for his games. "He's been fixated on a human girl. Athena. We think he's planning something, but we don't know what."

Lucifer sat up slightly, his expression shifting from mockery to mild interest. "Athena, huh? Doesn't ring a bell."

I narrowed my eyes. "You're telling me you haven't heard anything? Satan's been obsessed with her for months. If he's moving, you'd know."

Lucifer's grin widened, his amusement clearly growing. "Oh, I'd know, would I? Maybe I've been too busy enjoying my retirement to pay attention to my dear brother's obsessions. Humans come and go. Why would this one be any different?"

Marax crossed his arms, leaning against the nearest wall. "Because he's not letting this one go. Whatever it is, she's important to him."

Lucifer leaned back in his throne, steepling his fingers. "Important to Satan? That's a dangerous place to be. But you're assuming he's working on some grand plan. What if it's just... infatuation? You know how he gets."

I clenched my fists, frustration bubbling in my chest. "You think he's just infatuated? He's putting demons in motion. Hell is shifting, and it's not because of some passing obsession. This is serious."

Lucifer's eyes gleamed with something unreadable as he leaned forward slightly. "Serious, you say? And what exactly do you expect me to do about it?"

"Give us information," I snapped. "If Satan's plotting something, you've got to have some idea of what it is."

Lucifer's smirk faltered, just for a moment, before returning in full force. "I hate to disappoint you, but I don't have all the answers. Satan keeps his cards close to his chest. If this girl is truly that important, maybe you should be asking yourselves why."

Marax exchanged a glance with me, his casual demeanor briefly slipping into something more serious. "You're saying you don't know anything?"

Lucifer's voice softened, his tone almost reflective. "I'm saying that if Satan is this fixated, she's either a threat to him... or a key to something much bigger. Either way, you two have your work cut out for you."

I wasn't convinced he was telling the whole truth, but pressing him further wouldn't get us anywhere. Lucifer always played his cards close, and he enjoyed watching us squirm.

Marax pushed off the wall, rolling his shoulders. "Well, that was about as helpful as I expected. If you hear anything, let us know. We're heading back topside."

Lucifer chuckled, a dark, rich sound. "Of course. I'll be sure to let you know if Satan decides to spill his master plan over tea."

I ignored the sarcasm, turning to leave. Marax followed, muttering under his breath. "I hate when he plays coy."

"So do I," I said, glancing back at the fallen angel one last time. Lucifer was lounging again, his grin firmly in place. But there was something in his eyes—a flicker of something he wasn't saying.

As we stepped back into the chaos of Hell, I couldn't shake the feeling that Lucifer knew more than he let on. Whatever was happening with Athena, we needed to figure it out before Satan made his move. Marax and I barely made it through the portal into Athena's house before I knew something was wrong. The air felt heavy, not with the usual human calm but with something darker—something sharp and oppressive. I exchanged a look with Marax, his grin slipping into a hard line.

We didn't need to say a word. We both knew where we were headed.

Bounding up the stairs, I pushed open Athena's door to find her sitting on her bed, knees pulled up to her chest. She was pale, her hair sticking to her face from a thin sheen of sweat. The room was a mess—papers scattered everywhere, a lamp on the floor, and claw marks raked across the wall. But what hit me the hardest was the look in her eyes: fear.

"Athena," I said, crossing the room in a heartbeat. "What happened?"

Her gaze snapped to me, and for a moment, it was like she didn't recognize me. Then she let out a shuddering breath, her body visibly shaking. "Beleth," she whispered. "He was here. He... he tried to kill me."

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Marax let out a low, guttural growl. "That bastard came here?"

She nodded slowly, her voice trembling as she continued. "He said he knows what I am... what I could become. He said he'd rather kill me now than let Satan have me. He wanted to—" Her voice cracked, and she shook her head. "He was playing with me. Taunting me before he attacked. If Nathanial hadn't shown up—"

"Nathanial was here?" I asked sharply.

She nodded, her eyes darting toward the broken lamp. "He fought him off. But Beleth didn't stick around. He left before it got... worse."

Marax was already pacing the room, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles were white. The air around him shimmered with heat, his demonic energy radiating off him in waves. "That's it. I'm going back down there. Beleth's done."

"Marax, wait," I said, holding up a hand. "We need to think this through. If you go storming into Hell looking for a fight—"

"I'm not thinking. I'm reacting," Marax snapped, his usually playful tone replaced with pure venom. "That coward came here and attacked her. On our watch. This isn't up for debate, Zarach."

Athena's voice, small but firm, cut through the tension. "He said he wouldn't stop until I was dead. That he'd make sure no one else could use me. I don't know what he meant, but... he'll come back. Won't he?"

Marax stopped pacing, turning to her. His jaw was tight, his eyes burning with rage. "No. He won't. Because I'm going to make sure he regrets ever stepping out of line."

Before I could argue further, Marax turned on his heel and stormed out of the room. The faint hum of demonic energy lingered in the air even after he disappeared through the front door.

Athena looked at me, her fear still evident, but now it was mixed with uncertainty. "Is he going to...?"

"Marax will handle it," I said, though I wasn't entirely sure if that was meant to reassure her or myself. "But I'm staying here. You're not being left alone again."

She let out a shaky breath, lowering her knees and sitting cross-legged on the bed. "I don't get it, Zarach. Why is this happening? Why are they so obsessed with me?"

I hesitated, leaning against the wall. "Because you're more than you think you are. And they know it. Whatever's inside you, whatever power you have, it's something they don't want falling into the wrong hands—or worse, being used against them."

She laughed bitterly, the sound hollow. "Great. So I'm a target for a bunch of sadistic demons. Perfect. Just what every girl dreams of."

I offered her a small, wry smile, trying to ease some of the tension. "Hey, you've got two demons and an angel looking out for you. Not many humans can say that."

Athena rolled her eyes but couldn't completely hide the faint twitch of a smile. "Lucky me."

The room fell quiet for a moment, the weight of what had happened settling between us. I crossed the room, sitting in the chair near her bed. "I'm serious, Athena. We won't let anything happen to you. Beleth made a mistake coming here, and he'll pay for it. But right now, you need to focus on staying safe."

She looked at me, her eyes searching mine. "You really believe that? That you can stop them?"

"Yes," I said without hesitation. "Marax might be reckless, but he's strong. And me... well, I'm a stubborn bastard when it comes to protecting what matters."

Her gaze softened slightly, and she leaned back against the headboard. "Thanks, Zarach. For staying."

I nodded, a quiet determination settling in my chest. I'd protect her—no matter what it took. I leaned back in the chair, watching as Athena's shoulders began to relax, the tension of the encounter with Beleth slowly unwinding. The faint tremble in her hands didn't escape me, though, and it made something in my chest tighten.

She'd been through hell—quite literally—and she was still standing. Stubborn as ever. That stubbornness was probably what I admired about her the most, though I'd never admit it out loud.

"Hey," I said softly, breaking the silence. "You're handling this better than most people would."

She snorted, her lips twitching into a faint smile. "If by 'handling it,' you mean sitting here shaking like a leaf while demons try to murder me, then sure, I'm handling it."

"I mean it," I said, my tone firmer. "Most humans would be a sobbing mess in the corner after what you just went through. But you're here, cracking jokes. That's impressive."

She looked at me, her expression softening. "Coming from you, that almost sounds like a compliment."

"It is a compliment," I muttered, glancing away to hide the warmth creeping up my neck. "Don't let it go to your head."

Athena chuckled, the sound lighter this time, almost genuine. "I wouldn't dare. Can't have you thinking I'm special or anything."

I didn't respond to that. She was special, but she didn't need to hear it from me right now. Instead, I stood and walked over to the window, my eyes scanning the quiet street below. The world out there was oblivious to the war raging around her, to the power hidden beneath her skin. If only they knew.

"You're brooding again," she said, drawing my attention back to her.

"I don't brood," I replied, shooting her a mock glare.

"Oh, please. You've got the whole grumpy, mysterious thing down to an art. What are you thinking about now? How you'd rather be anywhere but babysitting me?"

"Babysitting?" I echoed, raising an eyebrow. "You think this is babysitting?"

She shrugged, a playful smile tugging at her lips. "Feels like it. You're always hovering, grumbling about everything, like you'd rather be fighting demons than stuck here with me."

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "If I wanted to leave, I would've left by now."

That seemed to catch her off guard. Her playful expression faltered, replaced by something softer. "Why haven't you left, then?"

I hesitated, unsure how much to tell her. The truth was, I'd been watching her for longer than she realized. Before this chaos had started, before she even knew who—or what—she was, I'd been keeping an eye on her. Something about her had drawn me in from the start, though I'd never let myself dwell on it.

Finally, I sighed, sitting back down in the chair. "Because someone has to keep you alive, and Marax isn't exactly the poster boy for responsibility. If I left you with him, he'd probably convince you to start a bar fight with a pack of werewolves just for fun."

That earned a laugh, a real one this time, and the sound made the corners of my mouth twitch upward despite myself. "Fair point," she said. "But you're not exactly Mr. Sunshine and Rainbows, either."

"Good. You'd hate me if I was."

She smiled, her eyes meeting mine. For a moment, the room felt warmer, the tension from earlier fading into the background. "You know, for someone who pretends to be all grumpy and indifferent, you're actually kind of nice."

"Don't push it," I warned, though there was no heat in my voice.

She tilted her head, studying me. "You don't let anyone else see this side of you, do you?"

"What side?" I asked, feigning ignorance.

"This. The side that actually cares. The side that makes me think there's more to you than the whole 'gruff demon protector' act."

I looked away, feeling uncomfortably exposed under her gaze. "Don't read too much into it. I'm just doing my job."

"Sure you are," she said, her tone light but her eyes still searching mine. "Whatever you say, Zarach."

The room fell quiet again, but it wasn't the heavy, oppressive silence from earlier. It was... comfortable. I leaned back in the chair, watching as Athena relaxed further, the color slowly returning to her cheeks.

She didn't know it yet, but I wasn't just here because of some obligation. I was here because I wanted to be. Because, against my better judgment, I cared more about her than I should. And if that meant letting her see this softer side of me, just for a moment, then so be it.

She deserved that much.

Athena shifted on the bed, pulling her legs up to sit cross-legged. Her curiosity had started to creep back in, the way it always did once she felt a bit more settled. "Zarach," she started, her tone hesitant but determined. "Can I ask you something?"

I raised an eyebrow, leaning back in the chair. "Since when do you ask for permission to ask questions?"

She rolled her eyes. "Fine. I'll just ask, then. How does it... work? The whole demon thing? Were you always a demon, or did you... I don't know, turn into one?"

Her question caught me off guard. Not because I hadn't expected her curiosity, but because no one had asked me that in a very long time. I let out a slow breath, considering how to answer. "It depends," I said finally. "Some of us were never human to begin with. We've always been demons—created that way for a purpose."

"And you?" she pressed.

I hesitated, the weight of her gaze making it hard to avoid the question. "I was made," I said simply. "Not born, not turned. Just made. But not every demon can say the same."

She tilted her head, interest sparking in her eyes. "What do you mean?"

I shifted in my seat, folding my arms across my chest. "Some demons weren't always demons. They were human once. People who died, usually in terrible circumstances, and ended up stuck in Hell. Over time, the place changes them. It twists them, breaks them down until there's nothing left but anger, pain, and darkness. That's when they turn."

Her eyes widened. "So... anyone who goes to Hell could become a demon?"

"Not everyone," I said quickly, my tone firm. "Most souls in Hell are just... trapped. They don't have the strength—or the anger—to survive the transformation. They burn out and fade away. But the ones who hold on, the ones who refuse to let go of their rage or their pain, they're the ones who change."

She shivered, her fingers toying with the edge of the blanket. "That's awful."

"It's Hell," I said bluntly. "Awful is kind of the point."

Her brow furrowed as she processed my words. "So, the demons I've met—Marax, Beleth, you—are they all...?"

"Not human," I said before she could finish. "We're different. Older. But some of the lesser demons you've seen, the ones that are more... monstrous? A lot of them started as humans. They're what's left after Hell gets through with them."

She was quiet for a moment, her fingers still fidgeting. "Do they remember? The ones that used to be human?"

"Sometimes," I admitted. "Flashes of who they used to be. Faces, names, moments from their lives. But those memories don't last long. The longer they're demons, the more of themselves they lose."

"That's so... sad," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

I shrugged, though her reaction stirred something in me. "It's just the way it is. Hell isn't fair, and it's not meant to be."

She looked up at me then, her eyes meeting mine with a surprising intensity. "Have you ever... seen it happen? Someone turn into a demon?"

I nodded, the memory clawing its way to the surface despite my efforts to keep it buried. "Once. It's not something you forget."

Her gaze softened, and she leaned forward slightly. "What happened?"

I hesitated, the words catching in my throat. But then I remembered the way she'd stood her ground against Beleth, the way she'd pushed through her fear tonight. If anyone deserved to know the truth, it was her.

"It was a man," I said finally, my voice low. "He'd lost everything—his family, his home, his hope. When he ended up in Hell, he fought to stay himself for as long as he could. But the pain... the anger... it ate away at him. I watched him change. Watched as the memories faded from his eyes and something darker took their place."

Her expression was a mix of horror and sadness. "And you couldn't stop it?"

"No one can," I said firmly. "Once the process starts, there's no turning back. It's like trying to stop a wildfire with a cup of water. You can't fight it. You can only watch."

She was silent again, her hands still now as she absorbed what I'd said. Finally, she looked up at me, her voice quiet but steady. "That's not going to happen to me, right? If something happens, I won't—"

"It's not going to happen to you," I interrupted, my tone sharper than I intended. "You're not going to Hell, Athena. Not on my watch."

She blinked, surprised by the force in my voice. Then, slowly, she nodded. "Okay. I'll hold you to that."

"Good," I said, leaning back in my chair. "Because I don't make promises I can't keep."

Her lips twitched into a small, grateful smile, and for a moment, the room felt a little lighter. Despite everything, despite the chaos

and the danger, she had this way of making even the darkest moments feel less suffocating. It was infuriating and endearing all at once.

And as much as I hated to admit it, I didn't mind being the one she leaned on. Not one bit.