A dark, ominous mist hung heavy in the air of the abandoned substation. Each echoing step of boots on the cracked concrete sliced through the silence like a metronome, filling the empty space with a rhythmic beat.
A black-clad man emerged from the haze, a tattered hood drawn low over his face, his combat boots crunching with every step. A battered magnum holster swayed at his waist, adding to the rugged air that clung to him like a second skin.
He came to a sudden halt and looked up, revealing a scruffy five o'clock shadow framing a handsome face, one eye glowing a brilliant mechanical red.
"I can see you, demoness," he called out to the shadows. His voice carried a quiet authority, unwavering.
From the darkness, two seductive purple eyes shimmered, scanning him up and down like a predator sizing up its prey.
"Demoness?" she cooed, her voice smooth as silk. "How brash of you, divine."
"After everything we've been through?" she asks, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
Her hips sway hypnotically as she struts toward him, each step deliberate, her legs crossing with an exaggerated bounce.
She leans close, her breath brushing his ear. Her ample chest threatens to spill from its tight confines. "You belong to me, Divine…" she purrs, her voice a husky echo that crawls inside his mind. "And once again, I find myself in need of my favorite toy."
Divine spits on the ground, the act sharp and defiant. "What?" he asks, his rage simmering beneath a fragile mask of stoicism. His face shows nothing, but his twitching trigger finger betrays him.
Being so useful has him mired in the demon's dirty work like a full-time job.
Her hands glide over his broad shoulders, her nails biting lightly into his skin as she leans in closer, her cheek brushing his. "A group of seraphim are tracking me," she murmurs. "Get rid of them."
She straightens with elegant precision, her body twisting just enough to flaunt her curves in the tight leather straps. Her red skin glows like embers in the dark. After a few sultry steps, she reaches back and tugs an invisible chain over her shoulder.
A pull.
A searing pain tears through his soul—a reminder of her absolute hold over him. Subtle yet unmistakable, the message is clear.
I own you.
Without another word, she walks away, hips swaying until the shadows swallow her whole.
Divine stands there, alone in the hush that follows. A flicker of curiosity—or maybe even vulnerability—crosses his face.
What had freedom felt like? It had been so long since his soul was truly his own.