23. Max

23

MAX

I slept for a few more hours, curled in between them both, sinking into their warmth, the simple rightness of feeling their skin against mine.

It took some finesse, but I shifted the shadow magic across the bonds, letting it fortify and strengthen them, rather than linger inside of any one of us.

The bonds were somehow stronger now, like the magic Darius had held always belonged to us, was always meant to draw us closer.

He was never meant to hold it on his own, I understood that now.

Even in sleep, I could feel that Darius was lighter, breathing easier than he had since we'd stepped foot in this place.

But I dreaded the morning, because I knew that I'd have to talk to him today—knew what had triggered the upset in the tenuous balancing act he walked every day. Eventually, I'd have to talk to the others too, but hopefully that could wait a few more days, until after they'd had a chance to process everything that had happened on the mission. We still needed to debrief, to figure out what we were going to do next .

The truth was, I didn't have any ideas. And the person who'd been the brains of this operation, who'd put this meticulous plan together, was gone.

I curled into Darius, breathing in the scent of his skin.

Terror gripped beneath my ribs as I thought about what Charlie was going through right now.

More than terror though, in the parts of myself I hated, there was also gratitude—that I hadn't lost any members of my team.

Losing Bishop and Evelyn was painful, but I couldn't imagine losing one of my own team.

It felt selfish and horrible, to be excited by the fact that Darius was himself again now, that we'd been able to use our bond to keep that darkness at bay, at least for a little longer.

The sun had hardly crept through the window, when he shifted next to me.

His eyes met mine, his jaw tight. I watched the maelstrom of emotions play out across his eyes.

There was so much that I wanted to say to him, but I couldn't find the words; didn't know how to heal the wound between us, because there was no solution to the problem that had carved it there.

"I—" I whispered, searching for something to say, to ease his pain, but I couldn't. "I'm glad you're back."

Slowly, the anger and grief there bled into a hard determination.

Wordlessly, he slid his hand into his pocket, pulling out a phone I didn't recognize. He swung his legs over the bed and dialed a number while he stretched, his lean muscles glistening in the soft light of the window.

"When did you get a phone?" I asked, already missing his warmth. He'd lost every phone he'd been given, and had stuck to borrowing Dec's more often than not when he needed one. It was a habit that she hated, because he always made sure to change her background photo to a ridiculously up-close selfie of his face—the kind of proportions only a well-intentioned boomer could manifest.

Secretly though, I knew she loved it, that she loved him. We all did.

Shadow ran into the room, then nudged her head along his calf in greeting.

I froze, not entirely sure Darius was fully back to himself. I was fairly certain Wade's siphoning plan had worked, but it was also a very real possibility that Shadow was unknowingly walking towards her death.

We hadn't had a chance to test the theory in action, to make sure that the hunger had abated.

But Darius simply looked down at her, scrunched his nose, then tossed a pillow to Wade. "Wake up, you prick." Then he picked Shadow up and set her carefully in my lap, before wiping his hands on his pants like the transfer had left him contaminated.

Wade grunted, blinking awake. "What the hell? What time is it?"

"Get here now," Darius said into the phone, ignoring us both. "And bring the girl too." He paused, grunted. "No." Another pause, he opened the door and walked out. "Yeah, that one. She deserves to know, so make sure she's here too. Family meeting. One minute."

There was the muffled sound of a voice on the other end, but Darius hung up on whoever he'd called without so much as a goodbye.

Wade mouthed, "family meeting?" then looked at me, confused, but I could only shrug.

"Well, he seems fine," he said, his words muddy with sleep. "Back to his old confusing-as-hell self anyway."

"Where'd you get that phone?" I whisper-shouted, not wanting to wake the others up. They needed sleep. We all did .

"Swiped it from Haley," he yelled back, clearly unconcerned about noise control, "when we left her in the room. She wasn't using it, so I didn't think she'd miss it. I'll return it today, she's probably up and moving again." His volume didn't change, but his voice sounded farther away as we moved through the cabin. "Though come to think of it, not entirely sure how many of those darts she got hit with. Might be a few days."

Loud banging proceeded down the hall as doors slammed open and a cacophony of groggy curses filled the small cabin.

Ralph added loud, chirping barks, clearly amused by the ruckus and wanting to participate.

"Fucking hell." Wade fell back on the bed, then pressed his pillow over his face and groaned. "It's not even 6 a.m., what a shitty way to thank us for saving his life."

It took only five minutes for all of us to assemble in the main room, and Izzy arrived dressed in bright purple sleep pants, smelling like toothpaste.

Ro stood next to Darius, the two of them communicating wordlessly in a way that had me worried, while Ralph wove from person to person, accepting good morning pats from everyone—and demanding two from Izzy, a demand she happily obliged.

"Max is determined to die," Darius barked out, no preamble. "So I called this family meeting so that we can put our brains, brawn, and beauty together to come up with a plan to stop her."

My stomach sank.

Fuck.

I clutched onto Ralph for support as I fell back onto the couch, between Izzy and Eli.

"What are you talking about?" Eli asked, then he shook his head, confused. "Also, how are you awake and…normal again? For you, I mean."

Darius sighed, like this was the most tiresome question in the world. "We'll get to that later. My me-ness doesn't really matter right now," he shot a glance to me, then Wade, "though I am deeply grateful for it. What matters is that Max will not survive Lucifer's mystical little ritual, and she had no intention of letting any of you know that, so I'm telling you now. Because I'd like your help with stopping her."

My mouth went dry.

Wade snorted, the joke melting when his eyes found mine. "What's he talking about?"

Atlas was unreadable, and Declan had frozen mid coffee pour. The steaming liquid overflowed onto the counter, but she didn't seem to care or notice.

Izzy's hand found its way around my arm and she gave a tight squeeze of support. She studied me for a moment, eyes wide and filled with so much love that I nearly vomited. I could read her like a book in that moment, the pages spilled open.

This is what you've been hiding, her eyes screamed. This is what you've avoided talking to me about.

My throat tightened at the lines of pity and grief on her face as she read mine just as easily.

"That's not true, right?" Eli turned to me, eyes searching. His skin paled as I fought to find something to say. "Fucking hell."

Darius shoved his arm forward. "Yes, true. See. It's all over her face. Guilt." He crossed his arms. "So now we need to put together a plan to stop it."

"I—" my voice cracked.

"Were you ever planning on telling us?" Declan asked, hissing as coffee spilled onto her feet from her overpour. "Or was this just going to be a valiant sail off into the horizon, leave-us-all-to-pick-up-the-fucking-pieces-without-you kind of thing." The gentle lilt of her accent was thicker than usual. "Not even a goodbye or even a silly attempt at finding another option with us? "

"I was going to tell you." My voice sounded weak to my own ears, filled with guilt, and I hated myself for it. "I just—I didn't know how or when. And it was just easier to focus on other things."

If I didn't talk about it, maybe it wouldn't feel quite so real. Quite so fucking terrifying.

"Other things?" Wade's voice was devoid of its usual warmth. "There are no other things when it comes to your survival, Max. It's the only thing."

"Doesn't matter," Darius grabbed a coffee from Dec, blowing on it as his eyes landed on me. He didn't even drink coffee. "It's not happening. We need to come up with some back-up plans, that's why we're here. It's," he paused, silently scanning the room, "seven against one."

Ralph barked.

"Right, sorry, eight. Eight against one. And I'm sure if the miserable cat were around, she'd be on our side too. We win the vote either way."

"There—" I shook my head and paused, digging for my resolve, "there isn't a back-up plan. It's not something to vote on. I'm the catalyst. If we don't complete the ritual, that potentially endangers everyone in this realm and everyone in hell. Including me. I'm dead either way. At least this way, my death can mean something. I can potentially save you all."

"Potentially," Darius said, dragging the word out, like he'd discovered a clue. "There's no guarantee that will happen. Just what Lucifer says." He snorted. "And who the fuck trusts that asshole anyway? He's got slimy, maleficent vibes about him. I've personally never liked him and I'm very well known for my discerning taste." He winked at me. "Obviously."

"It's not a chance we can take." I looked at them all, my gaze landing on Ro last, begging him to see reason. We grew up as protectors. We knew our lives were likely going to be cut short. It was the norm for people who dove headfirst into danger. This was no different—a sacrifice that needed to be made. The greater good. We were designed for this. "Ro, it's the whole world. I mean, you have to understand?—"

He scoffed, his arms crossed over his chest as he stood taller. "Don't look at me like that, Max. You honestly thought I'd understand this? That I'd just nod along and let you do it? Help you do it? Do you know me at all? Do you know how un-fucking-fair that is—" his voice hitched, and I watched him swallow back tears that so rarely found themselves close to the surface. "Fuck that and fuck you for thinking it."

"Explain," Atlas said. The sharp hollowness of the word cut through my anxiety, curdling it in my stomach like expired milk.

"I—" I sighed, my tongue tied up as I fought to maintain composure, but I was one push away from breaking down in tears. "I don't know the details, just that the ritual requires my full strength, the stone, and the nexus. Lucifer doesn't think I will survive it. No person could survive it."

"You learned this when?" Atlas's voice was cool, detached, but his eyes were almost pure yellow and I could see him struggling to maintain composure, to control his anger.

I blinked back tears, knowing that this was his biggest fear. Letting me in, letting me close, loving me—just to lose me.

And I'd allowed him to love me anyway, knowing that I'd eventually have to break him.

"The first night," I swallowed, my throat tight, "that I woke up in the lake. I had a dream-walk with Lucifer, and he—he confirmed it then."

"Months?" Ro sniffed, his jaw clenching so tightly that I could hear his teeth grind. "You've been keeping this from us for fucking months, Max?"

"Yes, much time has been wasted," Darius narrowed his eyes, considering, "which is why we can't waste anymore. Hence, the family meeting. Who has ideas? "

"There aren't—" I started, but Darius cut me off.

"You know, I really should have known better. I was so caught up in the whole," he raised his hands in exaggerated finger quotes, "being the good guy thing," he scoffed, took a sip of coffee and cringed at the bitterness, "that I started seeing the best in things, hoping for a bright and sunshiny future. Hell," he turned to me, brows scrunched in disbelief, "I was even willing to live with a cat. But obviously sex and blood and love and what not have made me gullible and—" he waved his hand searching for the word before clearly give up, "you know, rose-colored glasses and what not, content to go with the flow, follow the will of the other good guys in their perfect world of nonsense. Because when I really think about it, of course you can't survive that. A literal realm's worth of power flowing through you? Get fucking real. How the fuck could anyone fucking survive that?" He shook his head, pointing his finger at me while he paced back and forth. "You see, this is why sometimes murder is good. Sometimes being greedy and cruel lets you see the world with more clarity, the images sharper, more true. See things for what they really are—all the shitty and evil and whatnot bits of it. If I hadn't been so…so fucking reformed , maybe I would have figured this out months ago—maybe before Lucifer even confirmed it. Could have taken you away, and hidden you somewhere—like I've been wanting to do since you broke me out of that damn lab."

"Lucifer's been looking for other options." I sank back into the couch, hyper aware of everyone's eyes on me. "That's what he's been doing since the first time we left hell. He just hasn't found whatever it was that he was looking for."

"And now he's missing," Ro's voice was even, too steady.

Yes. Now he was missing. As was Samael. We had no next option, no clue where to fucking go from here. For the first time, the utter helplessness and hopelessness of the situation clung to my bones, weighing them down .

"I just wanted the rest of my time here with you all to be good memories. I know I should have said something, but I didn't want you all to look at me like," I gestured around the room to them all, "like that."

Izzy squeezed my arm again, quiet solidarity. Her anger and frustration lapped at my skin, but I could also feel her pushing that away for now. She knew I needed someone in my corner on this, and she'd do her best to be that person, even though I could tell she disagreed with me.

That realization—the simple depth of her friendship—made my vision blur.

"No," Darius's eyes widened and he took a step towards me, hand outstretched, before he paused, pulling it back, "no tears. This isn't the end of things. It can't be. I refuse for us to go through everything we went through just for," he scoffed, "for this to be reward."

"We still have time." Eli bent forward, elbows on his knees as he scratched the back of his neck. "We don't have the stone, or any leads on it. We don't know where the nexus is." He grunted, "also no leads. Kind of weird to be pleased with the fact that we're missing these things, but at least it buys us more time—to plan for another path, another option."

"There isn't—" I licked my lips, "the blood oath."

"The what?" Ro asked.

I jumped at the sound of a loud crash. Darius's coffee mug was now shattered on the floor across the room, a watery-brown stain dripping on the wall above it.

"Fuck!" he ran his hands roughly through his hair, and for a moment, I froze, convinced that last night's dream-walk hadn't worked, that the magic would overtake him again, upsetting the delicate balance we'd created. "I fucking knew that goddamn oath would bite us in the end."

"Explain." Declan leaned against the kitchen counter, her arms crossed over her chest. "Now. "

"When I made that blood oath with Lucifer, and then broke it," I said, ignoring Darius's scoff, "it means that Lucifer has ultimate say over my will, until he chooses to relinquish it."

"Meaning?" Izzy asked.

"Meaning that he can make me go through with the ritual, even if I didn't want to. If I refuse his demand, I'll die. My life will be forfeited either way."

The flash of hope that Darius had been broadcasting dimmed all at once, until there was just panic and anger etched into his eyes.

"There isn't another option," I said, "I'm sorry. I really am. I didn't want to do this to you all. Seeing your pain—your grief—before I'm even gone, that's the only difficult part of this decision for me."

"There is." Ro's gaze latched on mine, before he turned to Darius. "There is another option." Darius stood taller, soaking in every word Ro uttered, like he was bestowing the elixir of life. "Jarrod, that council member—he seemed to think that Max could survive if she shared her power with them, if they helped with the ritual."

"Then we do that," Wade said, pacing, "obviously. How? How do we find them?"

"There's still the problem of the oath," Darius said, "Lucifer won't agree to working with the council."

"Then we don't tell him," Ro snorted, "obviously."

"Or we tell a partial lie," Dec added, "don't tell him until it's too late for him to stop her, to invoke the oath."

I shook my head. "The Guild doesn't want to save the hell realm. Their offer was to destroy hell, and everyone stuck there, for good, or potentially —" and I stretched this word out, because I didn't trust Jarrod or the remaining council members—of which there were now only two—as far as I could throw them, "just reseal it—repeat the ritual used that created hell in the first place. No more portals, no more barriers, no more realms. Just two separate worlds, bolstering protectors in this one. I think they think this would help infuse the protector line with the power they've lost through the generations. A do-over of sorts."

"Great," Dec said, brows lifted, "we do that. Go back to the status quo."

The others murmured their assent, but Darius just watched me, his expression grim.

"No," I whispered. "I don't believe the council really thinks that's an option. And if it were, I still wouldn't do it."

"No?" Eli grunted, "what do you mean no? It's an option, Max. Maybe our only one. And if we work with the council, we'll get the stone. They might even know where the nexus is. They don't have a death wish. They want to survive," he said the last part under his breath, like I didn't also want that, "it's in everyone's best interest if we protect the realms from collapsing. Maybe, just this once, we can actually work with them to keep as many people alive as possible. And then, once this is done, we can figure out a way to help people there, to create portals, to get them out—whatever you want."

"And then what, The Guild is just in control of everything, forever?" I added, shaking my head. "That's why they would help. Their own greed. Maybe we should want more than the status quo. The only ones who stand to benefit from a return to where we started are the people who held all the power then—protectors. I don't want this to end at the beginning. We've learned too much. What does the status quo look like, exactly? Let's say it works? We seal the realm, and maybe— maybe the people stuck in hell survive. Then what? Demons are just stuck there? Forever? Hell is fucking miserable, we've been there. It's a prison that slowly drains the lives of the people stuck there. And here , what's here? The council, The Guild, they just get to keep their power, their control? Just because you want to keep me alive for a few more years? "

As if The Guild wouldn't kill me the first chance they got, after they drained every last thing they needed from me.

They didn't keep promises, they had no honor.

Had we learned nothing?

I stood up, begging them to understand. I'd thought about this, I'd already run this through my head, walked every possible path. "I don't want to return to the status quo. I don't want to be the reason the world is stuck in that toxic sludge forever. I want the possibility of something better. A world that people can remake however they collectively see fit—one that isn't built on a lust for power. There's no guarantee that it will be better than what we have now, but there's at least the possibility—and that's everything. Don't you see that?"

"So what the fuck was the point in all of this then?" Ro yelled, his eyes rimmed with red. "Why did you bring us all here? I thought this was supposed to be your big army—that we were going to wage war against the council? What the fuck is this ridiculous Defiance for then, if you're just going to throw us all away to become a martyr?"

"The council is nothing in the grand scheme of things. They are one small pawn in an infinitely bigger battle. And we've succeeded to the best of our abilities in that battle. There are only two of them left, The Guild's power is crumbling." My chest squeezed, and I wanted nothing more than to hug him, to erase the pain I could feel from here, as if it was my own. "I think maybe I didn't bring an army here. I think that this place, the people we've brought together, the people who were here before us—they'll be needed after the ritual, not before."

"To fight?" Izzy asked, her eyes narrowed as she watched me. "For what comes after you're gone, you mean? The council? Demons? Humans? What?"

"I don't know," I said, "maybe. But maybe the thing that will be needed most isn't war. Maybe it's community. Maybe that's the point. Charlie and Bishop helped build a place that meets the needs of everyone who is willing to be a part of it. There's something magical about that, isn't there? There's hope here, the possibility of something better for everyone—a future worth fighting for. Maybe this community's job isn't to tear things down, but to build things back up."

Atlas's eyes met mine, sheer stubbornness and hurt battling in their depths. "There's no future worth fighting for that doesn't include you, Bentley."

Ignoring him, and the way my breath hitched at his words, I walked over to Ro. I grabbed his hand, silently begging him to understand—begging him to see what I saw. "All we ever wanted was to feel like we belonged somewhere, to be part of something we believed in. To feel like part of a community. I thought when we went to The Guild, that maybe there we'd find it. And we did," I gestured around the room, to the people who'd become my family, "but it wasn't The Guild that fostered that. We did. This place," I squeezed his hand, "the Lodge—it's home. This is that community." I turned around the room, looking at them all. "You can't ask me to betray that. You have to let me make this choice."

And this place, the people here, they would be here for him—for them all—when I was gone. They'd be here for each other. A family just as strong, just as sturdy, even if I wasn't here with them. That, more than anything, gave me a sense of peace.

"I can't—" A tear fell down Ro's cheek, and I watched his chin dimple, his lips strain as he fought to keep more back. "I can't lose you too, Max."

The pain in his voice cracked my chest in half, and I fought to keep my own sob from following his.

"You have to let us try." Atlas stood next to me now, his eyes searching, begging. "We have time. We don't have any of the things we need for the ritual. That means that there's time for us to find another way. We'll talk to Charlie, we'll talk to everyone. We'll all put our heads together, research, consolidate our resources, and find—something."

I opened my mouth to tell him it was pointless, that it would just be a waste of the remaining time we had left together.

If Lucifer couldn't find a loophole, I had no idea how anyone else could.

But Atlas shook his head. "You have to give us this one thing, Max. We can't just give up. We can't just walk you to your death without a fight. I won't do it. If we have to accept your decisions as yours, then you owe us this. You said it yourself—that there's hope here, the possibility of something better, right? That's what you love about this place—the community? Let us work with them, then. Let us try to find another path, another option. Please."