Chapter 20

LYRA

The atmosphere in the room physically drops, like a weighted blanket draped across my entire body, but nothing is there. Darkness seeps from the doorway, with smoke settling across the floor. My heart rate spikes the moment the first figure steps through, the black cloak looking as though it's floating across the smoke. A sharp scythe peeks from behind the figure, along with another cloaked being.

Both stand in silence, their dark hoods unmoving as they look ahead, I assume anyway. Their eyes are not visible, nothing but black. The tall one with the scythe walks forward, stopping a step away from me, if that. Goosebumps litter my skin, the temperature in the room dropping suddenly. It has me shivering, gripping Ryker's hand for dear life.

"Lyra, I hear we have some things to discuss, you and me. Only in extraneous circumstances are humans supposed to see my demons—usually once their souls have already crossed over and are waiting to come to Hell. But you, you have seen more than you were supposed to, before your time." He reaches out, white bones peeking out from his black robe. "Don't fear me; you already understand what I am. Now let me see for myself if what my trusted soldier has said is true."

My free hand moves to reach his, trembling midair before he grabs hold of it, a low growl sounding from both sides of me. Void has appeared to my other side, standing with her arms crossed over her chest, nostrils flared. It feels like my hand has been covered in ice water, my bones cold and rigid.

"Breathe, pretty girl. Let that breath you're holding go," Ryker orders from beside me, his eyes pinned to mine. I hadn't realized my chest was tightening, the pain clutching my very core. Not surprising when death is holding your hand and searching your soul for fuck knows what.

"My reaper here told me you were prepared to die to be with him, your mate, but that your soul was not destined to be down in the depths with us."

"Grimm, there is much she has yet to know. This is all very new," the figure behind him states, his voice harsh. There is a familiarity there, something I can't quite pinpoint. Grimm doesn't allow me to focus on anything but him, using his other hand to pull the hood down. His appearance is every bit as haunting as I expect: pale white skin peeling from bone, snow white eyes swirled with deep shades of red.

"You know so little, and yet I have never seen a soul so ready to pass over. You have felt deep pain in your life, deep loss. Let me ask you, Lyra: are you prepared to die, to spend the rest of your existence in the depths of Hell when your soul is destined for the afterlife above?"

The word yes falls from my lips before I even register what I'm saying, the answer crystal clear in my mind. Without a shadow of a doubt, my choice is clear. My life has meant so little to me for so long, surviving each mundane day because I have to, not because I woke up wanting to.

It always felt as though there was a crucial piece of me missing, something I could never pinpoint until the day I woke up in the cabin, seeing Ryker walk through the door.

Tears roll down my cheeks, the warm tracks stinging against my cool skin. Grimm looks over to Ryker, before looking behind him at the still shrouded figure who doesn't move a muscle.

"This is your last chance to change your mind, Lyra. There is no going back once death takes you. No second chances, no refund policies. Your life as you know it will end. Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," I manage to whisper, the intensity of this moment suffocating me. The invisible weight covering every inch of my skin gets heavier, my body trembling beneath it.

"Lyra, you understand what you're choosing, don't you?" Ryker asks, his voice pained. For a single moment, I am able to ignore everything around me, death holding my hand and sucking the warmth from my body. My cat who was never a cat stands at my side, the unnerving presence behind the epitome of death. As I look into Ryker's eyes, ones rimmed red and hazed with unshed tears, it's just the two of us.

"I am choosing you."

"Very well. In the presence of those here today, you have heard her choice. This may hurt a little; you will feel a lot of mixed things before the relief settles in your soul. Your friend here will take care of your body, having your remains buried right beside your father."

Grimm closes his eyes, placing his other hand on top of mine, encasing it in his cold grip. Spindles of pain shoot from the contact, like fire and ice at the same time, battling for power through my veins. Like that feeling of skin being stuck to the coldest of pipes during the peak of winter, moving through my body at an agonising pace. A sob wracks through me as it moves from my hands to my chest, infecting every part of me it touches. Suddenly, a loud thud tears through the cries as I watch my body fall to the ground, Ryker's hand still attached.

He drops to the ground, his hand pulling from my grip and tucking the stray hairs around my face behind my ear. It takes a moment to see it, but tears fall from his cheeks onto my body below him, streams of them. In all the years I knew Ryker, I never saw him shed a tear other than the night he watched his father rip my innocence from me.

His thumb brushes my cheek as he looks over to Void, who's seemingly looking straight through me. Seeing this play out around me is surreal, but the pain is gone. It feels as though all the pressure from my body has disappeared. The tightness in my shoulders from the years of anxiety, the permanent pain in my chest—both are completely gone.

"I will take care of her. Axel and I have the contacts. Your vessel is safe with us," Void says with a tight smile, her hand on my arm as her eyes flit from Ryker's to mine mid-sentence. There's concern in her eyes that matches my own, watching him hurt like this. He plants a kiss on my cheek, struggling to move away.

Time stands still, waiting for him to say his goodbyes even though I am standing right here. It takes a few moments for him to stand again, reaching for me as soon as his back straightens. The flames in his eyes burn hotter than I have ever seen, blue this time with tips of white.

"Come, let us guide you. Not every day a soul is taken to the gates by me. It has been hundreds of years. What a novelty."

Grimm gestures beside him, a wall of black mist appearing out of nowhere. The dark haze moves, with small bits of light reflecting off the particles. He steps through it with my hand in his, pulling me with him, Ryker and the other being following suit. It feels like I am being pushed and pulled at the same time, my skin torn and fused back together in one swift movement in a completely dark room until I crash into something hard.

The ground beneath me is hot against my cheeks, singeing my skin each second I don't sit up. My arms tentatively reach out, pushing my chest off the heat to take in my surroundings. All I can see from here is smoke and darkness, with slightly moving figures around me. Moments pass before strong hands are gripping each arm, hauling me to my feet.

Everything is a blur, the room tipping on one axis, then the other, small dots forming in my vision. I reach my hands up to my face, scrubbing at my eyes to try and clear them to no avail. Other than my eyelids now stinging from friction as well as smoke, nothing.

"Give yourself a second to adjust," Ryker whispers in front of me, his hands gripping my waist and pulling me closer. "Just take deep breaths and let some tears flow. It will help clear the smoke."

Not needing to force them, the tears welling in the corners of my eyes from the burn begin to roll down my cheeks, with Ryker's thumbs catching them on the way. Each tear starts to clear the haze, revealing Ryker's stunning, flame-filled eyes staring right through me. I watch as he removes his hands from my skin, and I miss his touch instantly. Without looking away, he flattens his tongue against his thumb, licking the salty tears from one, then the other with a growl.

"Fuck, I love the taste of your tears," he murmurs, his eyes burning even brighter. "I am going to shift here, okay? I want to walk you through the gates in my demon form. I have a lot to explain, a lot to talk about, but we have time. Just need to get through this part."

Smoke forms around him, making it impossible to see the change physically happen, but what it reveals has my breath halting. Behind him are terrifying gates, imposing structures with flaming skulls adorning the sides. Two giant hellhounds approach, their steps faltering when they lay eyes on Grimm. His scythe glints with the flames, reflecting them back at the two beasts.

Ryker walks to my side, nuzzling his nose into my hand. He really is beautiful in this form, his fur soft to the touch. Small embers escape his coal eyes, disappearing into the darkness surrounding us.

"Come, let's get you home," Grimm says, walking forward, waiting for the three of us to follow him.

I expect to feel fear, apprehension, something , but all I feel is excitement, an emotion not typically on my roster. Fear, sadness, anxiety—I experience those daily, but this? No.

We walk through the iron gates, only to come face to face with many sets of glowing eyes in a cavern, most of them backing away. The closer we get, the clearer their dark figures become, the giant, wolf-like forms stepping back when faced with the being in front of me. Grimm is silent, but his presence alone is heavy, demanding.

He leads us through a door and into a room with flaming sconces lighting up the stone walls. In the center sits a gothic throne of sorts on a podium, the peaked back covered in blood-red velvet.

"Welcome to Hell, Lyra," Grimm says as he sits, removing the hood he had put black in place at some point. "Ryker and his reaper will be able to help you settle in here, as well as your friend the shifter when she comes back. Now, in this room, I get to decide what type of demon you will become: a hellhound, a reaper, a regular demon, a succubus. The options are endless. Tell me, what do you think you would connect with most?"

He would be aware that I know nothing of this world, yet he asks me to pick like I am about to sit under a sorting hat. How am I to know what I am supposed to be when my knowledge is limited to popular culture and the research I had done in search of Ryker? Sensing my confusion, Ryker steps forward, his head lowered.

"If I may, I have spent the last eight years getting to know my mate, the seven before that in her presence. Considering her soul was never meant for this plane, I think she will fit with the higher-level demons eventually, once she is used to her new life."

Grimm nods, a grin revealing rows of sharp fangs I didn't notice back at the apartment. He looks behind us at the figure that has been with us the whole time, his boned hand gesturing for him to come closer.

"And you—what do you feel about this? Think now might be the time?"

My heart picks up its pace, trying to figure out what he means. Why would he be asking this being for their opinion on me, considering they haven't spoken once throughout this whole ordeal? That's until his hood is removed, his eyes boring into my own as a whine sounds from Ryker.

Those familiar green eyes reflect my own stare back at me. In a surge of emotion, I lunge forward and wrap my arms around the black cloak, a cry tearing itself from the very depths of my soul. His arms wrap around me so tightly, I can barely breathe, but I don't care. Surely I can't die when my body isn't alive to start with.

"Dad," I manage to croak, pulling away from the embrace to take him in again. His smile reaches his eyes, tears of his own flowing freely down each cheek. There are shadows of darkness like Grimm's, but his are more subdued, showing his features. He looks to the throne in the center of the room, his arms still tightly wrapped around my shoulders.

"I agree with Ryker. She is not for grunt work, and the thought of you making her a succubus has my stomach churning. A demon, one within her own right. Not forced into anything particular."

My father's words cut through the air, none of them registering past the fact that he's here. In the flesh, the man who died leaving me in the hands of that monster of a woman. It's as though the puzzle pieces are slowly linking, and the intricate web of those around me is starting to make a lot more sense. Ryker, Void. My dad. All of them present without me even realizing.

Grimm approaches the three of us, again reaching out his hand, waiting for me to take it. The coldness of his touch doesn't hurt the same as it did before, more of a cool touch than anything as he grasps my hand.

Heat licks at my skin like fire pulsing through my veins, burning me from the inside out. The pain of it is overwhelming, forcing my knees to the hard ground. A guttural scream bounces off the surrounding stone, one I don't recognize as my own until my tear-hazed eyes look around.

Minutes of agony pass , leaving me a shaking mess on the ground, my father's hand on one shoulder and Ryker's hellhound form pushed into my other side. The intense ringing in my ears begins to soften, my heart rate slowing as Ryker moves in front of me. His tongue flattens on my cheek, licking the trail of tears on one side then the other.

"Come. Let me take you home."