|| ** Not sure why my account keeps doing this, not posting the full chapter---but hopefully "fixed it," as of 3/7/2026! **||

Without breaking eye contact with this Ruby, and with my jaw set, I gently tugged on Bri's jacket, pulling her back a step.

"Lucy?" Sam's voice cut through the hot tension as Bri gave into my tug and my eyes finally caught Ruby's. "Whose—Luc—Lucifer?!"

Bri almost flinched.

I didn't even blink as Ruby's eyebrow arched.

"Get. out." I growled, as her eyes flashed with nothing but arousing amusement.

"Eve, right?" She chuckled darkly as I felt that familiar hellious rage creeping up my neck again, that same urge I got in the pit. I watched this cunt give one of the slowest once-overs I've ever received, while pretending to think.

...while mentally flinching at my internal terminology.

"Vixen? Nightingale...Doll?" She paused and allowed her lips to stretch slowly as she stopped short of—what might as well have been my lips, she was so close. The heat from her inner being was licking up my neck as her eyes finally just stopped on mine, "Firefly?"

"You have," I grinned, without even blinking. "10 seconds to get out before I send you back to Daddy Urzin."

"Who?" Dean choked out, his eyes flicking between Ruby and myself as Sam's breath hitched.

"You know your hand," Ruby grinned, huffing a humorless laugh. "I'll give you that."

"Your move, Bitch." I growled, feeling Bri's slight tug on my sleeve this time as Sam stepped gently between us.

"Eve—"

"It's quite already, Sam," Ruby grinned, placing her palm on Sam's shoulder without wavering her gaze. "They'll come around."

"With a fucking blade..." Bri whispered, making Ruby's eyes barely flick my head, over my shoulder only to return without a second thought.

"Right," Ruby smiled before soundlessly, seamlessly and gracefully just disappearing.

"Vixen—" Dean started to chuckle, but fell silent at the sudden flash of my blade and the cold steel meeting the flat of his chin. "Whoa!"

"Eve—" Bri started, grasping my wrist and slowly lowering my arm.

Dean's eyes were now locked on mine, and that's when I saw it—it was short and was gone just as quickly as it flashed—but I saw the twitch of jealousy before his mask slid into place, but he didn't bother to hide his jaw setting.

Sam cleared his throat, snapping the tension clean in half as all of our eyes shot to him. He was stepping backward and flipping open his flip phone before sliding through the ajar motel door.

Bri hesitated, glaring down at the spot Ruby stood before turning and stomping to the bathroom, slamming the door so hard I caught the shake of the mirror in my peripheral.

Dean's jaw was still set when my focus zeroed back in.

For a second it was just us, through the motel hum, the flicker of the neon outside, through the air still hot where Ruby had stood. I rolled the blade once in my palm sliding it back into the sheath at my thigh.

Dean's eyes followed my movement, "That's new,' He said lightly.

"It isn't." I snort.

His gaze lifted slowly back to mine. "Demon-made."

"Figure that out all on your own, did ya?" I shot, watching his jaw clench as he glared. "Most effective things are." I put, softer.

That earned me a look.

He shifted his weight, folding his arms like he was trying to look casual and failing. "You wanna tell me why a demon knows you by a catalog of pet names?"

I tilted my head at his tone—it sounded identical to the tone I used the morning that woman left our motel room—and to hear this tone on him for a change was absolutely satisfying. His jaw remained clenched, sure—but now his biceps flexed as his breathing began heavier.

"You jealous?"

His mouth twitched. "Of what? A bunch of dead freaks?"

"You laughed."

"I didn't laugh—"

"You were about to."

He stepped closer—not threatening, but not quite gentle either. It was just enough to test the space between us.

"You don't get to throw steel at my face and then flip this on me."

"I didn't throw," I said calmly. "I placed."

His jaw tightened harder at that.

"Vixen?" He pressed. ""That one yours?"

"Maybe."

"Nightingale?"

"Maybe."

His eyes sharpened, "Doll?"

I smiled faintly. "Careful."

His voice dropped. "Firefly."

That one almost made me blink.

Almost.

"Cute, right?" I said smoothly, although visions of myself with Kaelen forced itself front and centered before I shoved it away.

"Who."

It wasn't loud, not even demanding—it was clipped.

Controlled, even.

I let a slow breath leave my nose. "You don't want that answer."

He stepped in closer this time, close enough that I could see the tiny pulse in his neck.

"Try me."

I let my gaze drift lazily over him—deliberate even measured. Just enough to remind him I wasn't the same woman that he left behind.

"You remember how you survived here?" I asked quietly, ensuring my eyes were now locked on him. "The things you did?"

His expression shifted, guarded now.

"Yeah."

"Good." I murmured. "Then don't ask me who helped me survive there."

Something dark flickered across his face.

"Helped." He repeated.

"What?" I snorted, feeling my lips twitch this time. "You think we were chained to walls for a century?" I asked softly.

His silence answered for him.

I stepped closer instead now, slow and unhurried.

"Bri and I weren't prey, Dean."

His throat moved.

I didn't elaborate, he just studied me like he was looking for a fracture line, "Then what were you?"

I let the moment hang before whispering, "Not helpless."

His jaw ticked.

"That's—" He started, letting his eyes flick away from mine long enough to sigh short. "That's not an answer."

"It's enough."

The silence settled heavy between us as he shifted his weight, "You're different."

"Thank Lucifer."

It wasn't defensive, just unapologetic.

His eyes darkened slightly, "Different how?"

I let that hang for a second, with an honesty of not knowing exactly how much of the truth he could handle right now, so the silence did the talking for me.

"Why did you come back?" Dean questioned, his posture stiffening even more, if that were possible.

I didn't answer that one yet—considering how he's acting with the implication of someone, and the idea of that someone being a demon of all things, I didn't think he was ready for the whole picture—

Humans...

Dean took a step forward before I could finish the thought, not fast or reckless—just there.

His hand landed on the wall beside my head—not touching me, not trapping me—but close enough that the air shifted, hot and humming—familiar.

"Why," He repeated, quieter now—rougher, "Did you come back?"

The motel neon flickered red across his face, across the sharp line of his jaw.

I didn't answer.

His other hand flexed at his side.

"You had...whatever the hell that was down there," He continued, jaw tight. Although his eyes dropped slowly over me, not subtle or polite.

His eyes dragged slowly over me—not stubble or polite.

"And you walked back in here like nothing down there touched you?"

There it was—not an accusation, possession.

My pulse ticked once—hard.

"Don't look at me like that," I murmured.

"Like what?" He shot back immediately.

"Like you're trying to decide who got their hands on me."

His jaw clenched.

"Someone did."

Not a question, a fact he was already fighting in his head.

He stepped even closer—close enough now that the heat of him pressed through my shirt, grounding and dangerous all at once—and his lips weren't even a kiss away at this point–and I caught myself glancing down at them before he spoke again.

"Firefly," he said again, but this time it wasn't sharp, it was low—claiming. The name sounded wrong in his mouth, too soft.

His thumb twitched where it hovered near the wall beside me, "That one mattered."

Still not a question—my lips curved, slow.

"Careful, Dean."

His nostrils flared slightly. "You think I can't see when something lands with you?"

"I think," I said evenly, lifting my chin just enough to meet him head–on, "You're not used to not knowing."

That hit.

His hand dropped from the wall—not retreating—just relocating. It settled at my hip, firm, grounding, not rough or gentle. Almost saying, mine.

My breath fucking caught for half a second before I steadied it.

"You're here," He said quietly. "Right here."

"Yes."

His fingers flexed slightly, like he needed the confirmation through touch.

"But that doesn't mean nothing happened."

Ah—there it was, not blame or abandonment, just the truth he couldn't unsee.

"You think Hell froze because you weren't there?" I asked softly. "You think you know Hell because you have spot reservations?"

His jaw worked, "No."

The word was tight

"And you don't like imagining it didn't."

He exhaled slowly, controlled—barely, "No." He admitted.

My fingers found the front of his shirt without thinking, just brushing the fabric—testing.

His eyes dropped to the movement, then back up.

"You're not theirs," He said quietly.

I arched a brow, "You taking a poll?"

His grip on my hip tightened just enough to answer the question.

"Don't," he warned.

"Don't what?"

He learned in, close enough that our foreheads nearly touched, breath mingling. That familiar heat of us melting over us.

"Don't act like it doesn't bother me."

That—that was honest.

Raw.

I felt something low in my stomach twist, sharp and hot.

"You being bothered," I murmured, "Isn't exactly subtle."

His mouth brushed dangerously close to mine when he spoke, "You like it."

God—fuck.

I held my expression steady, calm—even as my pulse roared.

"You're picturing it," I said quietly.

His jaw flexed, his eyes hardening, "Yeah."

Possessive didn't sit lightly on him, it burned

The bathroom door creaked open and Bri stepped out, eyes sharp and scanning once before locking on the space between us.

Dean, without breaking eye contact, reluctantly dropped his hand, mask slowly snapping back in place, but the heat didn't vanish.

Bri's gaze slid between us, unimpressed, "You two done?" she asked dryly.

Dean cleared his throat, finally turning his head and finally taking a step back, "For now."

I smoothed his shirt where my fingers had wrinkled it, casual.

But when he brushed past me—

That shoulder-check wasn't accidental, neither was the warning in his eyes.

Bri caught it—of course she did.

Her gaze followed hima she moved toward the small round table under the motel window, then slid back to me. One brow lifted—barely.

Triangle—noted, filed.

Her eyes dropped briefly to where my hand had just been, then returned to my face, there was no judgement, not easing—just awareness.

A silent: Girl—

I held her gaze a second too long.

A silent: Shut up.

Her mouth twitched lightly, not amused—not entirely concerned either. More like she was calculating how many walls would survive the night.

She stepped closer, close enough that her shoulder bumped mine lightly.

"Easy," she muttered. "You get that look, things tend to kneel."

My smile deepened.

"He won't."

Her brow arched faintly.

"Mm," she hummed.

"What about Sam?" I shot back, not in retaliation but in concern, and as Bri's eyes shot into mine and she opened her mouth—the motel door interjected the tension with the sudden metallic click of it opening.

Sam stepped back in, phone still in his hand.

"Richardson, Texas," he said, eyes flicking between us and immediately clocking the temperature of the room. "Family says something's been moving through the walls. Cold spots. Scratches. Looks like a possible haunting."

The silence snapped tight.

Dean turned from the table as Sam crossed the room, flipping his laptop open and dropping into a chair like this was just another Tuesday.

"Haunted house," Dean muttered.

"Mhm." I finally dragged my focus off Bri and let my gaze slide past Dean like he was part of the wallpaper. "About time."

"Finally," Bri deadpanned, reaching for her jacket. "I was getting bored."

I snorted under my breath. Her tone was flat, almost subtle — which made it worse.

Sam shot her a look.

I could still feel Dean's stare on me.

Heavy, even unblinking.

Dean's eyes held mine, now, but just for a second before he grabbed his jacket. "Yeah," he said flatly. "Let's go see what's crawling in the walls."

He moved past me, his shoulder clipped mine — not enough to stumble, not enough to be obvious.

Just enough.

Just intentional enough.

And I felt it — not the shove, the claim.

It rolled off him in waves — tight jaw, squared shoulders, that barely controlled edge in the way he moved around me instead of away.

Kaelen didn't need to be named — Dean wasn't fighting a man.

He was fighting the idea that someone else had ever stood close enough to touch what he thought was his.

And—fuck—help me—the jealousy looked good on him.

Raw, unfiltered and even possessive in a way he didn't even realize he was broadcasting. He didn't glare, didn't threaten, he just simply occupied space like he was daring the world to try again.

Dean Winchester had always been protective, sure.

But this? This was territorial.

And the worst part? I liked it.

Not because it was jealous, but because it meant he felt it.

Because it meant I still mattered enough to unsettle him.

He didn't need to know the name, he was already burning for it.

But, what made me pause was something simple; If I matted so much, if he felt this—whatever this is between us—where the fuck was he...?

"So," Sam clears his throat as I pulled the motel door shut behind me, following Bri to the edge of the curb as Sam and Dean stopped short of baby, "Some ground rules—"

"Ground rules?" Bri almost mocked, earning a side eye from me.

"We're not talking about certain things in the car..." Sam went on, almost ignoring Bri. "After you guys were taken, there were—" He hesitated, slowly glancing at his brother, whose gaze remained on his boots with his jaw set. "A few nights of discussion, where it was decided—if we got you back—"

"Or we came back." Bri inserted, crossing her arms.

I fought my lips as they twitched without breaking eye contact with Sam.

But the flinch in his throat said he felt the impact.

"We weren't talking about—" Sam stopped, again, nervously looking at Dean now, making both myself and Bri stiffen.

"What?" I blinked, cleaning my jaw before gesturing wildly enough to get Dean's attention. "Is the almighty sulking knight in shining armor supposed to tell us—?"

"Watch it." Dean growled, without moving much—only his eyes flicked up into mine.

Sam cleared his throat again as Bri's brows furrowed at the sudden shift.

"We're not talking about Hell, Dean's Deal, Ruby or—" Sam stopped short, and Dean immediately flicked his gaze to his brother.

"Or...?" Bri raised her eyebrows, glancing between the brothers.

Dean's eyes remained on Sam, long enough for a slow—deadly even—exhale to slowly exit Dean before his eyes finally landed on mine.

"Or Lisa."

"Lisa?" Bri almost mocked again, glancing from Dean to myself.

"Who the hell is—" I growled, crossing my arms, cutting myself off my head tilted on his own accord, feeling that cooling sensation of memory–knowledge, and one night Kaelen showed me how he uses the nightmare realm. "Oh,"

"Oh?" Dean echoed, shifting in his jean jacket. "How the hell would you know that?"

"She's the one you dream of..." I state, almost flatter than a whisper. "She—she is what you could have had, that normalcy you crave—"

"Careful." Dean glared.

"Whose Lisa?" Bri pushed away, tilting her head at me—as if the boys weren't even there.

"She's someone Dean had years before we came around Bri..." I smirked, not breaking eye contact with Dean. "This guy thought he had a son for a whole week, how is Ben?"

"Eve."

"I'm just saying," I scoffed, stepping past Bri and off the curb and into Dean's direct space. "You had time to get cozy with an old flame, but—" I hesitated, watching the rage surface as I gestured lightly through my jacket pocket to Bri. "Fuck us..."

Dean and I held that eye contact too long, and neither of us moved until Sam finally clapped his hand onto his shoulder and tugged him away, roughly.

Bri grasped my wrist immediately, once the trace was broken, and tugged me back onto the sidewalk, barely steadying me before I tipped over.

"You never told me about Lisa," Bri fiercely whispered, glaring over at the Impala. "What the hell, Eve?"

"In case you forgot," I shifted, adjusting my jacket. "We were not on talking terms for a few years here and there..."

Bri just glared.

"Lisa is this flame he had forever ago, she had a son—he thought the son was his..." I gestured lightly, avoiding her pushing gaze.

"And you looked in his head because...?" Bri gestured overdramatically, blinking hard.

"It was—" I fell quiet, suddenly not so proud of what was about to come out of my mouth. I knew she'd be pissed—but she's staring at me, "it was one of Kaelen's twisted ideas of a night where..." I fell quiet, frowning down at my shoes, feeling her gaze intensifying. "He thought it was like foreplay to show me what Dean was dreaming..."

"Eve—" Bri started, but the creak of concrete broke our wall and we both jumped as Sam stepped between us with his hands up in mock salute.

"Ladies, Texas?" He gestured over his shoulder as Bri's eyes flashed in annoyance.

"What about the 'Stang?" Bri growled, pulling her keys high from her pocket and jingling them.

"The 'Stang..." Sam started, his voice falling off into the parking lot as he glanced down the stretch of cars, and clocked our Mustang sitting four spaces down from the Impala. "We could have Bobby—"

"Excuse me," Bri shifted, interjecting immediately. "If I don't care for your input right now," She pauses long enough for me to snort and feel Sam's eyes flick to me briefly before he swallows hard and beams down at Bri. "I actually wasn't talking to you—I was talking to Eve..."

Sam's jaw ticked.

I grinned as his eyes flicked over her shoulder again and I snickered as he stepped away and Bris slowly, literally, twirled on her heel slowly to face me again.

"How long do you think we should stay Bitches?" I chuckled, as we took a few steps off the curb, toward the Mustang.

"Until they get it." Bri whispered back, glancing over her shoulder. "Seriously, what about the 'Stang?"

"We take it," I shrugged, stepping forward and leaning against the grill as the Impala roared to life, and when I glanced—sure enough, Dean's eyes were already on me. "I don't think I'd survive a ride in Baby right now..."

"Me either," Bri sighed, twirling her keys for a moment only to freeze.

I clocked her shift, immediately prying myself off the grill of the 'Stang, embracing her arms as my eyes shot down to her hand at a sudden shift in light and a sparkle of something flashed up at me.

Attached to the keyring, something neither of us clearly clocked, was the silver chain of the bracelet.

The Bracelet.

From Colorado.

When we first met this fuckers—

My eyes flicked up to Bri's suddenly smokey or glossy eyes as she closed her fist.

"Bri—" I started, but she shook her head once, earning silence.

"Let's go," She huffs, shoulder checking me as she shoves towards the driver's side.

I press my lips into a thin line, in thought, glaring over at the Impala as Sam is talking with a map in his hand, while Dean's head is barely bowed but his eyes are still on me.

When he realized I had caught him again, he gave me another slow once-over before I finally looked away and took a step as the Mustang roared to life next—but something freezes me.

I glanced around, quickly, to see Bri adjusting her seat in the Mustang while the Impala slowly pulled out of his parking spot and screeched to a halt beside my hip, but my gaze didn't stop dead until I saw something.

Standing across the parking lot, across the road—half swallowed by headlights and the foggy morning glow—was Kaelen.

My lungs forgot their job—not surprisingly in shock, but in recognition. It hit low first—hot, immediate—a pulse beneath my ribs that had nothing to do with fear and everything to with memory.

Hell doesn't fade, and neither do the things you did there.

My fingers flexed in my jacket pockets before I could stop them. It wasn't about how he looked, demons don't look to age—unless they want to.

It was the space he occupied—still, coiled, like the world around him was incidental.

His gaze locked on mine and—there it was—that familiar, dangerous awareness. It wasn't soft or sentimental, it never was—but it was hungry.

My stomach twisted at the familiar strain.

The last time we'd stood across from each other like this, there had been blood on my hands, his mouth on mine, then on my ear, then my neck before moving lower—then him telling me to leave before he changed his mind.

Heat climbed up my spine like it had been waiting for permission.

And—fuck.

Part of me leaned into it, just a fraction and just enough to feel the pull and that familiar heat that turned into a safe haven for me.

To my left, Baby's engine idled, and a different kind of gravity tugged at me.

I didn't need to look to know Dean was still watching me, I could feel it.

This sharp possession burned through the windshield.

Kaelen didn't move, his eyes traveled over me once–slow—like he was confirming something, like he was measuring what was left of Hell on me.

Like he was remembering

My pulse thudded harder, and I hated how much my body responded before my pride kicked in.

Hated the heat pooled low and familiar, the set in my jaw because I wanted to step forward, I felt a sharp tug in my chest that sent an image of me back with him.

Hated even more that I didn't.

The impala's engine revved slightly.

A warning—or a claim.

I finally let my gaze flick away from Kaelen and landed on Dean.

He sat there, his head still bowed, but his eyes were more alert than pissed now. His hands were on the wheel, jaw tight, eyes locked on me—not the parking lot around me, just on me.

And the second he followed my line of sight across the street—

A violent mix of heat and dread punched through my ribs, only to see no one.

I glanced back at Dean, only to see his brow arched, but it wasn't in a confused manner—it was more curiosity. When you've gotten used to what we do—you learn the difference.

"Eve," Bri leaned out of the 'Stang's driver window, pulling me completely back to reality. "Come on!"

I blinked it away and closed the distance between myself and the Mustang, dropping into the passenger seat, shutting the Mustang's door as we both leaned forward ritualistically and thunder clapped across the clouds before the rain absolutely dropped.

"No..." Bri groaned, glancing at me.

"Yeah." I nodded, letting the metallic pounding of the rain take over the cab. "I saw Kaelen."

"What the fuck is he doing here?" Bri almost whined, tossing me the road map from the center of the seat as she continued adjusting her seat.

"I—" I started, but Bri's sudden loss of movement caught my attention.

"Do you know how long it's been since Kaelen came to Earth?" Her voice was strained, but her eyes were clear and wide.

"What?" I wrinkled my brow, shaking my head and tilting the motion a little.

"Eve, you were with this guy for how long—" She paused, glaring over my shift in posture. "And you didn't know that when a Demon like him comes to Earth that's apocalyptic repercussions."

"Apocaloptic?" I dead pan, arching my brow.

"Yes! Kaelen is very old, and if he uses that type of energy it doesn't mean anything good..." Bri frowns as she slows her speech.

"He did mention that the last time he was on Earth, he didn't like it because it rained the whole time..." I gestured lightly, using airquotes as the Impala revved outside the 'Stang and Dean nodded as Bri shifts the gear and pulls out smoothly behind the guys.

"Rained the whole time?" Bri smirked, following the Impala onto the interstate and turning on her windshield whippers.

"He compared it to the Pacific Northwest or Canada..." I trailed off, earning a snort from Bri. "He said it was pretty wet—"

"You do know why, right?" Bri asked, shifting again before glancing at me.

"Because the last time the world ended—"

"...it rained!" Crowley's voice cut through the silence, making Bri jump so hard the Mustang tugged from one side of the highway to the other, slinging Crowley from one side of the car to the other,his head cracked against the window with a hollow thud before he squealed— "Bloody hell!"

"Crowley?!" Bri screamed.

"Son of a—fuck!" I yelped as Bri managed to pull the Mustang back into the center of the lane.

"Shit—" Bri hissed, shifting around to pull her phone out as it started going off, immediately.

"Put it on Speaker!" Crowley cooed from the backseat, only to earn a hard slap on the knee from me, and his immediate frown and then wink toward me just made me smile.

"Yeah?" Bri deadpanned into the phone as glared over the two of us to be quiet.

Through the speaker, because Crowley always gets what he wants, Sam's voice statically comes through, "You guys alright?"

"Yeah, why?" Bri's voice cracked slightly as she glared into the rearview mirror at Crowley.

"You guys swerved and—" There's a pause in Sam's voice, the splashing of rain and tire spray intertwined with the static before he adds, "--and it looks like there's someone in the backseat?"

"Ooo..." Crowley gasped, moving to stretch out dramatically across the backseat — only for my hand to move at the exact same time to shove him down.

My palm collided with his nose instead.

He yelped, high and offended, before his head cracked softly against the window again and his eyes fluttered shut. A dull thud echoed in the cab.

Bri hesitated mid-sentence on the phone, watching the whole thing unfold. Slowly, she turned to glare at me while I fought like hell not to laugh.

"Bri—" Sam's voice crackled through the speaker.

"Nope. No one. I sneezed. Goodbye." She snapped the flip phone shut.

Silence settled heavy in the cab, broken only by rain hammering the roof and the hiss of tires through standing water.

"Is he—" Bri started, leaning forward to check the rearview mirror.

I twisted in my seat to look over the back. "He's breathing," I assured her. "I just—"

"Punched him."

"I didn't—"

"Mean to. I know." She grinned, shifting gears as the Mustang cut through the rain. Then the grin faded. "Anyway."

"Anyway," I echoed, glancing back once more at Crowley's unconscious form before settling forward. "You're saying Kaelen showing up on Earth isn't just... a visit."

"He's Kaelen the Horrid, Eve." Bri didn't laugh this time. Her jaw was too tight. "Kaelen the Horrid!"

"I know."

"Do you—?"

"Yes." I sliced through the space between us. "I read the records while we were down there."

"And?"

I stared at the rain streaking across the window.

"What I read," I said quietly, "was one thing."

"And what he told you?" Bri pressed, her eyes flicking to me again.

"Was another."

She didn't interrupt.

I worked around the knot in my throat.

"What did you expect, Bri? He's a demon." I shrugged, but it felt hollow. "I did my research."

"And that research said..." she pushed.

I exhaled and closed my eyes, bracing for her classic, iconic lore dump.

"That he created those kinds of memories," she continued, voice low now. "The ones that stay sharp. The ones your body remembers even when your mind begs it not to. He's why sleep isn't safe. Why the past can rip open on command."

"Bri, I get it."

"He found a way to make pain—last."

Silence stretched.

My fingers started fidgeting with the cuff of my jacket before I could stop them.

"He figured out how to bind memory to sensation," I said slowly. "Turn fear into a loop. Attach emotion to image. Make the body relive what the mind wants to bury."

Bri's eyes flicked to me, then back to the road.

"The kind that wasn't weaponized...until him," I finished.

She huffed a breath. "And out of every bastard in Hell... you chose that one."

I opened my mouth, but she cut through it before I could form an excuse.

"What exactly did the records say?" Bri pressed, shifting gears before leaning back into her seat. "How'd they phrase it?"

The line surfaced uninvited, cold, clinically unforgiving.

"That..." I swallowed, the words sticking like glass. "That before Kaelen, pain ended when the blade left the body."

The rain hammered harder against the windshield.

"After Kaelen," I finished quietly, "it stayed."

Bri let out a low whistle.

"What was the appeal?" she asked, almost too lightly. She gestured vaguely, like she could swat the idea away. "You really scanned the room and went, yes, that one."

My glare snapped to her.

"You really want to go down that road?"

She grinned — which only sharpened my mood further.

"Appeal?" I shot back. "Do you really want to talk about appeal? What was up with you and Lucy?"

Her grin vanished.

Her jaw flexed.

The rain filled the silence for a beat.

"It was clearly something," I added, eyes drifting back to the windshield. "Significant enough for Ruby to toss his name like bait."

"How about we follow the rules?" Bri snapped.

"Rules?" I echoed flatly.

"Yeah." She tightened her grip on the wheel. "Let's not talk about Ruby."

I ripped my gaze toward the passenger window, jaw set hard enough to ache.

"Fine," I muttered. "But don't pretend you weren't circling something down there too."

"My something," Bri shot back, voice low and dangerous, "had nothing to do with sex, lust, or stalker demons."

That almost pulled a smirk out of me.

"No," I huffed. "Just the Devil himself."

Her glare hit me full force across the cab.

The rain filled the silence after that, only to be quietly and slowly interrupted by the groan from the backseat.