"Lucifer," I utter under my breath, more to myself than to him. My mind reels as I try to come to terms with my current situation. How is this possible? Maybe I'm asleep, and this is nothing more than an awful nightmare.

But, I know better than that. I know that his presence isn't one I could create in my subconcious. Yet, in some odd sense, this doesn't feel entirely real. He must be in my head somehow.

My mind is delayed, forcing me to take a few seconds to think over his words, and I find myself wishing that what he said, isn't true. I desperately wish that his blood doesn't run through my veins.

"No need for formalities, Darling. I am your father after all." He snickers, making me cringe.

"You are not my father." I spit the words like they're poison in my mouth.

He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth condescendingly.

"We're a lot more alike than you think, Little One." he remarks.

"I am nothing like you," I growl out.

"You're as stubborn as your mother," he suddenly spits, anger and hatred laced into his tone. The dark change in his voice surprises me with it's stark difference from how it sounded only seconds ago.

My short fuse sparks at the mention of my mother, making my eyes flash crimson red. Heat rolls through my veins and my hands clench into tight fists at my sides. My body vibrates with untamed anger, every muscle straining as I try not to lash out. My fear now long forgotten.

He cackles, only making my temper flare even more. A low demonic growl rumbles from deep within my chest, fueled by pure rage.

"And you say we're nothing alike," he muses. "The only difference between us is that you let your emotions get in the way."

My anger falters as I realize that he only mentioned her to get a rise out of me, and I fell for the bait. I gave him the exact reaction he was looking for and it's only proving that his words about me are correct.

I scoff and force my muscles to relax, my hands uncurling. I squeeze my eyes closed and when I open them again, I can feel that they are back to their original amaretto color. My face becoming impassive and emotionless again.

"Don't fight what you are meant to be, Victoria," his voice comes from close behind me and I twirl around to face him, long stands of my dark hair whipping around me at the sudden, quick movement. My narrowed eyes frantically search the darkness, expecting to see some form of life, but I find nothing there.

"How long are you going to run from the angels?" he asks, there's an edge to his tone that sends a chill down my spine. His voice now sounding from my right, but just as before, my head snaps in that direction, only to find darkness.

"Do you really think that you will keep your soul?" His voice cuts through the heavy, dark air. His presence now originating from my left this time. I know undoubtedly that he's not going to be there, but for the sake of my curiosity and due to my stubborn nature, I have to see for myself. My head whips to the opposite side and of course there's nothing in this seemingly infinite void.

This must be a sick joke to him. He seems to feed off of my emotions. My anger. My panic. My fear. He's using it to his advantage. He wants to watch me squirm, but I wont give him that satisfaction.

"Angel grace doesn't make you an angel. You're just as much of a monster as I am." His voice is low and terrifying, coming from directly behind me. The heavy air goes still, the only sound being my shallow breathing as I stand stiffly, heart pounding in my chest.

I squeeze my eyes shut as tight as possible, and inhale a shuddering deep breath, before opening them again and turning around slowly.

Immediately, I find two blood red orbs burning into mine. My breath catches in my throat as I look into his malicious, wicked eyes. They are horrifying. It's like every vile, cruel, evil thing that's ever happened in this world, is due to him, and it's all swimming in his eyes. He wears it as if it's a crown, like he's proud of it.

His mouth suddenly lifts into a Cheshire cat grin. The only features of his face that I can see in the dark are illuminated by a red glow from his luminescent eyes.

"I'll see you soon, Victoria," he says. The smug smile never fades from his face as I watch him, stuck frozen with terror.

And then my eyes snap open with a loud gasp, heart pounding louder than I've ever heard it. My chest heaves as I try to catch my breath.

In just a few seconds a figure is suddenly at my side reaching out for me. Out of instinct, my hand whips out in that direction, palm open, prepared to launch them to the other side of the room. My eyes are dark red as my other hand fists the material of a blanket.

"Victoria, It's me. It's just me," a familiar voice croons, soundly shocked and concerned.

"Moose?" I croak, confusion evident in my tone.

My eyes snap frantically around the room, only to quickly recognize it as my own bedroom. The thick white blanket is draped over my legs, pooling around my waist. The wooden bookshelf on the opposite wall remains exactly the way I left it.

My attention then darts to the glass wall, behind Zeke, which displays a dark gray, stormy sky pouring rain onto the dense woods beneath it. I listen to the fat drops pelting against the window as they roll down in thin streams, racing each other to the bottom.

A bright flash of lightning branches across the sky, striking somewhere on the horizon. It's ominous, like a warning of what's to come.

I look to Zeke again, analyzing his familiar features as he eyes me worriedly. His thick, dark brows are furrowed, framing his glassy, moss green eyes that are scanning over my face.

"Are you okay?" he asks genuinely after a beat of silence.

No, I don't think I am.