She shoved my hand away, probably harder than she meant to. "You don't get to talk about using people."

My lips curled into something I couldn't name, but it was heavy. My voice came out like a razor across the silence. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You disappear for hours at a time, come back smelling like him, and think I don't notice?" She snapped, stepping forward until all I could see was the strain in her eyes, the type that comes from seeing things you never thought you would, doing things you never thought were possible and long nights that revolved around scrubbing blood out from under her nails.

"You think Kaelen's some kind of therapy session? How long have you been sneaking off with him, Eve?" Her voice plunged itself into my chest, twisting it as the pain and flash of betrayal flashed across her face.

I pressed my lips together, squeezing my eyes shut as her voice echoed through my head again:

"You spend half your nights crawling out of his chambers, and I'm just supposed to pretend I don't see it? What happened to Dean?" Her voice trembled, almost as if she wasn't just asking me about Dean, but herself about Sam.

I flinched at his name, my shoulders locked in place as that familiar knot warped into my throat, hardening in my chest.

"Careful." Was all I managed to muster through the closure of my throat, the pain in my chest and the sudden heat flushing my cheeks.

"No," she snapped. "What would Dean think about you crawling into that demons bed, night after night?"

I pressed my wrist against my mouth, dropping my blade onto the floor in front of me, jumping slightly at the clatter.

"Firefly...?" Kaelen's voice slide through my memory as his shadow fell over me.

I swallowed hard, blinking as hard as I could almost willing the pain away.

"Don't lie to yourself," she spat, blood in her mouth. "You like it here! You like him!"

I lunged, faster than Bri could brace. We crashed to the floor in a tangle of limbs and fury, claws and fists finding purchase. Hellfire roared somewehre above, echoing the sound of our fury.

I had managed to pin her down, tears stinging. "You think you're still human?" I found myself hissing. "You think Sam would even recognize you now?"

That did it.

Bri's face lit up with rage, she twisted and slammed me over, her forearm pressing into my throat. "You don't get to say his name."

We froze there, both shaking, bloodied, panting-caught between rage and heartbreak, neither willing to let go first.

Then the air split with power.

"Enough." Crowley's voice echoed against the walls of my memories.

Kaelen's shadow fell across me before I even realized I was back. Not in the fight. Not on the stone. Back here.
"Firefly..." His voice was low, velvet smoke curling under my skin.

My eyes blinked open to find his copper stare locked on me, molten and merciless. His palms slid up, cupping my cheeks like he was steadying a wild thing.

"Come back to me," he murmured.

"K-Kaelen..." My voice cracked. My fingers wrapped around his wrists like they were the only solid thing left.

He crouched in front of me, sliding my blade out of reach, never breaking eye contact. His forehead brushed mine, heat radiating off him like a living brand.

"Where did you go?" he whispered.

Flashes flickered behind my eyelids—Bri's snarl, her words, Dean's name, his laugh and those godforsaken boots by a doorway, then Kaelen's mouth against my throat, against my skin, against my lips.

It all felt like yesterday. Or a lifetime ago.

"That fight with Bri?" His voice cut through the static. He smoothed a strand of hair back from my face. "That was decades ago, Firefly. You're still simmering?"

"No." My answer was too quick, brittle.

His smirk was soft but sharp. "You two have been down here so long, I've lost count. Hundred and ten years last time I checked."

My stomach dropped. The number landed like a punch.

"And neither Winchester has come close to getting you out..." His thumb traced my cheekbone, wiping a tear I didn't remember shedding. "...and yet both of you seem so hung up on them, still."

I swallowed hard, taking the flash of pain in his eyes, "It's not that simple—"

"It never is." He almost mocked, sighing heavily.

My heart stuttered as he lifted his eyes and locked on my gaze, and I could see it all. The one thing we said we would never do. The one thing we never allowed entry between us. The one thing I couldn't reciprocate.

"Kaelen..." I frowned, softening my gaze. "...you're looking at me like that again—"

"I know." His tone sharpened, a crack of steel. "I can't— I can't help it."

"Yes you can," I shot back, rising from the floor and stepping out of his grip as he rose with me. "We've been over this..."

His jaw flexed. "We've been over Dean, too."

I blinked, slow and dangerous. "What?"

Kaelen stepped closer, shirtless and radiating heat, like a threat and an invitation all at once. "Not once has Sam Winchester broken through the gates to get to Brianna, not once has Dean fucking Winchester gone above and beyond for you—"

"And you have?" I crossed my arms.

"I have." His voice was low, edged with hunger. "I bled for you. Fought beside you. Fucked you until you couldn't even remember his name, Firefly. And you still look at me like I'm temporary."

I hated the shiver that ran through me. "What the fuck do you know about what the Winchesters are and aren't doing anyway?"

Kaelen's eyes flashed darker than hunger — jealousy, raw and violent. "What does it matter?" he said, voice slow as molten tar. "It matters, because while you've been wasting what's left of your humanity on ghosts, the Winchesters aren't even going to last the year..."

My breath stilled. "What?"

"There's a bounty," he drawled, circling me like a predator that already knew the outcome. "A Prince put it. Political, of course — message to the rest of Hell not to follow in your footsteps. Apparently, a human and a halfling—"

My jaw ticked at his implication.

"—meddling in our hierarchy pissed off the wrong royals."

I stared at him, throat closing. "And you just decided not to tell me?"

His smirk was a blade. "What would you have done, Firefly? Stormed the gates? Begged your precious Dean to come rescue you? He wouldn't even know where to start."

"You don't know him."

Kaelen's heat crawled over my skin as he stepped closer, voice dropping into a dark rasp. "Don't I? You talk about him in your sleep."

The air between us turned electric. My pulse tripped. "Shut up."

"You dream of his hands," Kaelen continued, eyes burning into mine. "But the truth is, he's never touched you, has he? Not really. Never took you apart the way you wanted." He leaned in, lips brushing my ear. "The way I do."

"Stop." My voice trembled.

He cut me off with a soft, cruel laugh. "He's not here, Firefly. I am. I'm the one who's kept you alive down here. The one who's bled beside you, fought beside you..." his mouth grazed my jaw, his hand sliding down my side, "...fucked you until you forgot your own name." His tone turned rougher, meaner. "Obviously not hard enough, because you still have him in your head. Tell me, does Dean Winchester even know what your skin tastes like when you shake?"

My hand cracked across his chest before I even realized I'd moved. "You're disgusting."

Kaelen didn't flinch. He caught my wrist mid-swing, twisting just enough to pull me flush against him, the air punching from my lungs. "You keep saying that," he murmured, voice low, taunting, hot against my mouth. "But you never walk away."

"I should."

"You won't."

The words were a challenge — and he was right. My pulse betrayed me, pounding so hard it made my vision blur. His other hand came up, gripping the back of my neck, forcing my eyes to his. "You think he'd still want you, Firefly? After what you've done? After what you've become, down here?"

I tried to shove him, but he was faster. His mouth caught mine mid-breath, hot and brutal and consuming. I hated how easily I melted into it, how my fingers curled into his bare shoulders instead of pushing him away. Every kiss was a weapon — his dominance, my defiance, two flames devouring each other because neither knew how to stop.

His tongue slid past my lips, dragging a low, traitorous sound from my throat. His body pinned me to the wall, hard chest pressing against mine, his hand sliding lower, fingertips tracing the edge of my ribs like he was memorizing them.

"Tell me," he whispered against my mouth, breath ragged, "did he ever make you feel like this?"

That broke it.

I shoved him back — hard enough that his head hit the wall. "Don't."

He laughed, low and dangerous, straightening to his full height. "That's the thing about fire, darling," he said, voice slick and cruel. "You can pretend it's about warmth, but you and I both know you only ever wanted to burn."

"Fuck you."

"You already did."

I glared at him — heart hammering, body trembling, hate and want tangled in my chest so tightly I couldn't breathe.

"So that's it?" I found myself almost choking on the words as they fell out. "You just...drop this big secret about someone that you know I can't ignore—despite your best efforts..." I smirked, gesturing to the bed, watching his shoulders tense at the jab. "...and what?"

Kaelen didn't answer — he just watched me, chest heaving, eyes burning like a furnace barely keeping itself contained.

"I just stay down here with you anyway?" I asked, stepping into his space, my voice softer now, deadlier. "You get to keep me in your bed, in your Pit, in your lap..."

His breath hitched as I moved closer, my fingers ghosting up his chest, feeling the muscle jump under my touch. "You get to pretend I'm something you can keep," I whispered, rising to my toes, lips hovering a whisper from his. "Pretend I'm not already halfway gone."

Kaelen's jaw ticked, but he didn't move. His breath came out rough, scraping between his teeth. "You're not going anywhere, Firefly," he said, voice low and hot. "You can't. You're too far gone. You need the fire. You need me."

I smiled — slow, wicked, and sad.

I slid a hand behind his neck, pulling him down, close enough that his breath hit my mouth, close enough for him to think I might kiss him again. For a second, the air between us turned to static, and I swore I could feel his heart pound.

"I don't need you," I whispered, my lips brushing his. "I just keep forgetting that you're not him."

Kaelen froze. The breath ripped out of him, sharp and involuntary.

I didn't give him time to recover.

My hand dropped from his neck; my smirk hardened. "And that," I murmured, stepping past him, "is the only reason you still have a pulse."

For a moment, neither of us moved. The silence cracked like glass under the weight of everything we didn't say.

He said my name then—soft, low, broken. "Evelyn..."

I paused at the door, letting the sound of it slice through me before turning, meeting his eyes one last time.

"I told you," I said, voice quiet, dangerous. "You don't get to call me that."

Then I walked out.

The doors slammed behind me, echoing down the corridor like thunder. The heat of him still burned against my skin, but I didn't look back.

Not this time.

My feet carried me to her before I even registered where I was going.

The smell hit first.

Burnt flesh, iron, and smoke. The sound came next—the wet drag of a blade, the guttural scream that didn't belong to anything living.

Bri stood over the Rack, hair pulled back, blood spattered down her neck like war paint. Her knife rose, fell, clean, efficient. The demon beneath her wasn't pleading anymore. They never lasted long under her hand.

"Bri."

She didn't look up. "Busy."

I took two steps closer, boots echoing through the cavern. "Not anymore."

Something in my tone must've cut through her focus because she finally turned, dark eyes narrowing. "You look like hell."

"Cute," I bit back, fingers curling around her wrist before she could lift the blade again. "We're leaving."

That made her laugh—short, humorless, and cold. "Leaving?" She yanked her hand free. "Eve, we are Hell. Where the fuck would we go?"

"The boys need us."

The blade stilled mid-air, dripping. "You've got to be kidding me."

"I'm not." I stepped into her space, forcing her to meet my eyes. "They're in danger."

She scoffed. "They've been in danger since the day they were born. That's not our problem anymore."

"It is," I snapped. "You think Kaelen just casually told me that a Prince of Hell put a bounty on their heads for fun?"

That got her attention. She went still, jaw tight. "A bounty?"

"Yeah. Political, supposedly. A punishment—message to the other royals about mortals playing kingmaker down here." My voice dropped lower, sharp and trembling. "He didn't say when it was placed. Could've been a year ago. Could've been last week."

Bri's expression shifted, the humor draining out. "You're sure?"

"Kaelen wouldn't risk lying about this."

She tilted her head. "You still trust him?"

My stomach twisted. "No," I said, too quickly. "But I trust his motives. He wants to keep his throne. Losing us screws that."

For a long moment, the only sound between us was the low hiss of the torches. Bri's knife lowered slowly until the tip rested against the floor.

"Even if it's true," she said finally, "why should we care? They left us, Eve. Eleven months topside, a century down here. We built something. We survived."

"Yeah," I said, stepping closer until she had no choice but to face me. "We survived, Bri. Not lived. Not moved on. Survived. That's not what we came from."

Her throat worked, but she said nothing.

I pressed on, softer now. "You know what it's like up there—the smell of asphalt after rain, the taste of coffee that isn't laced with blood. You think any of this—" I gestured to the chains, the torches, the ruin around us "—is who we were meant to be?"

Her eyes flicked to the Rack, then back to me. I saw the war in them, the same exhaustion that had haunted her since Alastair's shadow stopped following her and she became her own.

"We're not the same people anymore," she murmured.

"No," I said, voice low. "We're stronger. Smarter. Meaner. Which is exactly why we need to go back. Because whatever's coming for them—it's not going to stop. And if we don't do something now, it's not just the Winchesters who'll burn. It's everything we left behind."

Silence. Then, slowly, Bri slid the blade back into its sheath.

"We hadn't spoken about that fight," I admitted quietly. "Not really. But down here, apologies mean less than survival. We've bled for each other enough times to make it count."

Her mouth twitched into something that wasn't quite a smile. "Guess some debts don't fade, huh?"

I reached for her wrist again, this time gentler. "Let's go make a deal."

She didn't question it. Just nodded—like she always did when we were about to burn something down together.

Crowley's council chamber was quieter than usual. No shouts, no wagers, no politics bleeding out of parchment. Just him—lounging in his chair, glass in hand—and Urzin, looming beside him like a gargoyle carved from iron.

The moment we stepped in, Crowley's smirk curved slow and smug. "Well, well. My favorite hellfire sisters. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Not pleasure," I said, stepping into the light of the chamber. "Business."

His brow arched, lazy amusement flickering. "Darling, I'm always listening when it comes to business."

"Then be all ears," I said sharply. "We're going topside."

Crowley blinked.

Urzin's head tilted, that deep, growling sound rolling in his chest.

"I beg your pardon?" Crowley said finally.

"You heard me." I folded my arms. "We're going back. The Winchesters—"

Urzin cut me off with a snort. "—are still alive?" His tone was mocking, almost incredulous. "Why would they need you?"

His gaze slid past Bri to me. "And you—still playing queen while your leash is held by prettier hands?"

My jaw locked tight. The flames along the chamber walls flickered with my anger. "Careful, Urzin. You're talking to two women who made Hell kneel."

Bri's voice sliced through the tension. "Because one of the Princes of Hell put a bounty on their heads."

Always the one with focus.

The temperature in the room shifted. Crowley's smirk faltered. Urzin's gaze flicked toward me, suddenly sharper.

"Who told you that?" Urzin asked, tone clipped.

"Kaelen," I said.

Crowley exhaled like a sigh through his teeth. "That hotheaded bastard. Of course." He leaned back in his chair, swirling the liquid in his glass. "You do realize you're both—how do I put this gently—assets down here? Untouchable. Reputable. Legendary. Leaving now would be... a waste."

"Not our concern," I said flatly. "We're leaving. We just need passage."

Urzin's chuckle rumbled through the chamber like thunder. "And why, exactly, would I grant that?"

"Because you owe us," I said.

That earned a genuine laugh from both demons.

Crowley actually clapped once, slow and sarcastic. "Owe you? My darling, you're the crown jewels of my damnation. Hell's favorite weapons. You've both been given what most souls never even dream of—power, reputation, eternity. And you want to give that up for them?"

"Yes," I said simply.

"No," Urzin's voice cracked through the air like a blade. "The deal stands. You are mine until the Winchesters fulfill their end."

"That deal's dead," Bri said, stepping forward now. "They never got the necklace."

Crowley sighed. "Precisely my point."

But Bri's eyes gleamed, sharp and dangerous. "Then what if we do?"

The room stilled. Even Crowley's smirk froze mid-rise.

Urzin's eyes narrowed. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying," Bri continued, voice slicing through the silence, "you let us out. Just long enough to get the Biblical Eve's necklace—the chain that bound her after the Garden. It's not just a relic. It's a key, at least...that's what I hear."

Crowley leaned forward slowly, interest glittering behind his eyes. "And you assume I'd let my favorite weapons just walk out? You've no idea how much your little rebellion amuses me... or how useful it might be."

Urzin growled, but Crowley waved him off lazily, eyes still on me. "And what, pray tell, do you get?"

"Our freedom."

Urzin barked a laugh. "Clever girl, but that's not how deals work."

"Actually, it's exactly how deals work," I cut in. "And if you'd like, I can quote you your own words on the matter."

Urzin's grin faltered.

I took a slow step forward. "When you struck that deal with the Winchesters, you said—and I quote—'And when I have it, I'll forget about the Ring. I'll give up the girls. No more collections. No more threats.'" My voice hardened, every word like a hammer against the stone walls. "You never said who had to retrieve the necklace, or how. Only that you would 'forget about the Ring' when you had it."

Urzin's eyes narrowed into slits. "Careful, Vixen."

I didn't stop. "And then you said—'No necklace, no girls.' Fine. We'll bring you the necklace. You'll give up the girls."

Urzin took a step forward, towering, his voice a growl. "You think you can manipulate me with my own words?"

"I don't think," I said, shoving him back, my forearm slamming across his throat. "I just did."

Crowley didn't move. If anything, he looked entertained.

Urzin's molten eyes flared as I pressed harder, my voice dropping to a lethal whisper.

"You made a deal, Knight of Hell. You left a loophole wide enough to drive a fucking Impala through—"

"—or a Mustang," Bri muttered. I shot her a smirk.

"You said you'd forget about the Ring. You said you'd give us up. That deal is binding."

Urzin's claws scraped against my arm, but I didn't flinch.

"Unless," I said softly, tilting my head, "you want to break your own word in front of a witness."

Crowley raised his glass, amused. "Oh, do go on, darling."

Urzin glared at him, then at me, before finally stepping back. His smirk returned, brittle this time. "You get one chance. The necklace. Nothing else."

"Done," I said, releasing him.

Crowley sighed — long, theatrical, and drenched in smug satisfaction. "Well, since we're all feeling charitable, I suppose I'll make the impossible possible... again."

Urzin growled. "Don't flatter yourself, Crossroads dog. The only thing you make possible is buyer's remorse."

Crowley blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Oh, don't pout," Urzin sneered. "You're a salesman with an ego problem. You traffic in bad bargains and broken promises. I traffic in time."

"Ouch," Bri said under her breath. "He's got your number, Crowley."

Crowley sniffed, straightening his tie. "Please, darling. He's just jealous I get the better clientele."

Bri crossed her arms. "Yeah, but he's got the voice. Big scary daddy energy."

I nearly choked on my own laugh. "Oh, he absolutely does. It's giving—'I'll turn this Pit around if you don't behave.'"

Crowley's grin was feral. "Oh, this I've got to see."

Urzin's jaw flexed so hard the air around him started to ripple. "Enough," he snapped, the growl in his throat shaking the torches. "You're lucky I don't throw you both into the Pit for insubordination."

"Careful, Daddy," Bri teased, mock-innocent. "You'll make it sound like a kink."

The look he gave her could've melted iron.

"Alright, alright," Crowley said, waving his glass lazily. "Before our resident time warden combusts, do tell, darling. What's the plan?"

Urzin's eyes burned gold. "I'm the guardian of the timeline. That means I send them, I bring them back, and I make sure they don't tear reality in half while they're at it."

"Oh, lovely," Crowley quipped. "A glorified chauffeur."

Urzin ignored him. "You get one hour. No more, no less. When the tether snaps, you're coming home—whether you've got the necklace or not."

"Home?" Bri and I echoed as Crowley smirk deepened.

Bri shook her head, snapping out of it, frowning. "And if we're still in the middle of the job?"

"Then you'd better move faster," Urzin said, voice flat. "Time doesn't wait for anyone. Especially not the damned."

I arched a brow. "Touching pep talk."

Urzin exhaled through his teeth, something between a growl and a sigh. "Don't mistake this for sentiment, girls. You've both changed Hell—against my better judgment."

That made me still.

He went on, tone softer but edged in gravel. "You've turned chaos into currency. Fear into loyalty. Even the lower ranks have stopped eating each other long enough to whisper your names. You made the Pit efficient—dangerous—but alive." His gaze flicked between us, sharp and reluctant. "So if either of you dies on my watch, I'll be more than pissed. I'll burn what's left of your souls just to drag you back here and kill you myself."

Bri smirked faintly. "Aw. He does care."

Crowley chuckled into his glass. "Admit it, Urzin. They've grown on you. Like mold. Or plague."

Urzin rolled his shoulders. "You two are trouble."

"Guilty," I said, chin high.

He gave a grunt that almost sounded like approval. "One hour," he repeated, stepping closer until his shadow cut through the torchlight. "When the sands run out, I'm pulling you back through the rip. Don't test me."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Bri said, though her grin said otherwise.

Crowley set his glass down with a satisfied sigh. "Well, then. Looks like our babysitter's on board."

Urzin growled low. "Say that again, Crossroads—"

"Later, love," Crowley interrupted, already turning toward his private chambers. "We've got a spell to dig up and two very determined disasters to launch into prehistory. Shall we?"

Bri nudged my shoulder as we followed, whispering, "Did Daddy Urzin just give us a heartfelt speech?"

I smirked. "He's gonna hate himself for that later."

Her grin widened. "Oh, definitely."

We walked out together—Hell's favorite monsters with one hour to change history and a Knight of Hell calling after us, swearing he didn't care.

Crowley's chambers looked like the bastard child of a cathedral and a casino—velvet drapes, glowing sigils, and at least three suspiciously bloodstained armchairs. He was already elbow-deep in a shelf of relics when we walked in, muttering curses in four languages.

"Where is it... where is it... ah, there you are, my dusty little time bomb," he said, dragging out a blackened tome the size of a tombstone. He gave it a fond pat before tossing it—tossing it—to Urzin.

Urzin caught it one-handed, glaring. "You're letting me handle this?"

Crowley spread his arms. "Well, you're the official 'guardian of the timeline,' remember? Go on then, Daddy Urzin. Do your worst."

Bri gasped theatrically. "He said it. He called him Daddy Urzin."

I slapped a hand over my mouth to keep from laughing. "It's canon now."

Urzin's eye twitched. "If either of you calls me that again, I will send you to the wrong century."

"Aw, look at him threatening grounding already," Bri said, smirking. "Someone's getting comfortable in his role."

"Enough," Urzin growled, flipping open the tome with a sharp crack. "You get one hour. No more, no less. When the sand runs out, I pull you back. If you resist the tether, you'll be torn in half."

"Is that a figure of speech or a promise?" I asked.

He didn't answer.

Crowley leaned against the wall, sipping his drink like this was the best entertainment he'd had in decades. "You two really know how to bring out his paternal instincts. Warms the heart, doesn't it?"

Urzin ignored him, turning the pages until runes flared across the floor in a circle of molten red and gold. The air thickened, smelling like ozone and burnt sugar.

"Stay within the sigil," Urzin commanded. "No touching anything until I finish the binding incantation."

Bri stepped over the line and looked down at the glowing runes. "Oooh. Fancy. What happens if we step out?"

"You implode."

"Oh, so just like relationships," I snorted, placing a hand on my hip.

Crowley almost choked on his drink. "I adore her," he said proudly. "Can we keep her?"

Urzin's glare could've flayed him alive.

"If you keep her, you keep me too, Dumbass..." Bri shot, earning a small smile from me but a second of Crowley's smirk faltering.

The tome began to hum, low and resonant, as the symbols bled light up the walls. The temperature dropped a few degrees. I felt the pull of something vast—a current tugging beneath reality itself.

"Alright," Urzin said, voice heavy with finality. "You're going back eleven months. The Biblical Eve's necklace was being auctioned at the same event you idiots crashed for the Chronos Ring."

Bri groaned. "Oh, that night. The one with the demon bidding war and the trickster?"

"Precisely," Urzin said dryly. "This time, stay on the timeline strand..."

"No promises," I muttered.

Urzin continued, ignoring us completely. "You are not to interact with your past selves. You are not to alter any major events. You will be unseen, unheard, and you will not speak to anyone outside your objective. The timeline is fragile enough without your chaos infecting it."

Bri raised a hand. "What happens if we accidentally bump into our past selves?"

Urzin's expression didn't change. "Reality collapses. Everything burns. Possibly me first."

"Got it," I said. "Avoid paradox, steal necklace, don't touch ourselves."

Bri snorted as I elbowed her silent.

Crowley grinned. "Darling, that's the first sensible thing you've said all night."

Urzin shot him one last venomous look. "When I pull you back, you will land exactly where you started. No detours, no excuses."

Bri glanced at me, smirking. "Should we remind him we've never followed instructions a day in our lives?"

"Shh," I whispered back. "He's in his serious voice again."

Crowley actually snorted. "Oh, this is delicious. Urzin, they're mocking you."

"I'm aware," he said through gritted teeth. "And if I had any sense, I'd leave them there."

"You wouldn't," I said, stepping into the center of the glowing circle. "Because you'd have to go get the necklace yourself and...lets face it, you'd miss us."

He looked at me for a long, heavy moment — the kind of look that said he wasn't sure if he wanted to strangle me or salute me.

Then, with a reluctant grunt, he raised his hand.

The runes flared white-hot. The room trembled. My hair whipped around my face as the sigil lines pulsed like veins of fire beneath our feet.

Crowley's smirk curved, wicked and fond. "Try not to traumatize your past selves, girls. They're sensitive."

"Rude." Bri and I shot in unison.

Urzin's voice rolled through the storm, dark and final. "One hour. That's all you get. I can't stress that enough..."

Bri grinned, shouting over the noise, "Yeah, yeah, Dad, we'll be home by curfew!"

"Bri—" I started, laughing—

But the air split apart with a sound like thunder tearing the world in two, and the last thing I saw before the light swallowed us whole was Urzin's exasperated scowl and Crowley raising his glass in salute.

Then everything went white.