☆ Alastor's POV, present tense

I have Adam pinned against the ground. My palms are pressing into his arms and my knees are on his thighs.

I just punched him, and it truly felt amazing. I grin down at Adam, savoring the expression on his face like it's a cold glass of water at two in the morning. His eyes are wide and watery, darting around like the eyes of a small animal trying to get away from a predator. At this point, I think the roles are perfect. I'm the predator, and Adam is the prey.

I laugh. "Not so cocky now, are we?" I ask as I slam my knee hard into the uber-sensitive spot right in between Adam's hips.

He grits his teeth and groans, his muscles tensing beneath my hands. "I'm going to fucking murder you! A-And then Eve's going to give your little, slutty, Pureblood bitch to Lucifer and he's going to kill her with his bare—"

"I've had enough." I lift my hand from his arm—but only for a second—so that I can grab my knife out of its usual spot in my waist pocket. I then quickly place the sharp edge of the blade on his lips, making him stop talking.

"Hush, little boy," I drawl. "I'm going to kill you now, but don't worry. I'll make your death nice and quick and painless, okay?" He says nothing, probably because my knife is digging into the soft tissue of his lips. I laugh, once, then drag the knife down his face until it reaches his neck—and I'm not gentle about it. Speckles of blood pop out of his skin, trailing behind the line that my knife had made down his chin. "I wish I had time to make you suffer, but I have a fair maiden to rescue."

"Al, buddy, you don't want to kill me." Adam smiles, and I know it must take a lot of effort. His chest is shaking like a shivering puppy's, and his eyebrows are drawn close together. I notice a bit of blood on his tooth. It must have come from his lips. "We can work this out. She's a Pureblood. You don't want to talk to her. This is for the best—"

"Oh boy, have you learned nothing?" I snap. With that, I take the knife and slice it hard across his neck, creating a cut that must be at least two inches deep. Adam immediately starts to choke, his chest convulsing as blood bubbles up from the freshly opened wound. The arm that I don't have pinned flies up and whacks me in the cheek.

I pause to rotate my jaw in a small circle, absorbing his hit as if it was nothing. Then I grab Adam's shoulders with both hands, lift them up, and slam them against the dirt so hard that it creates a crater around his torso.

Then I release my hold on one of his shoulders to take two of my fingers and stick them in his pearly blue eyes. I am rewarded with the sound of blood gurgling it's way past his throat, his already cut lips, and his punctured eye sockets.

After a few seconds, Adam stops moving. I stand up and wipe my bloody hands off on my suit jacket. My knife finds its way back into my pocket—after I wipe it off, of course. Killing people is so spectacularly satisfying, but right now, I can't soak up the content feeling that's rising through my veins, because I have more pressing matters to take care of.

The sound of skin hitting skin floats through the empty air from behind me. Clapping. It is slow and taunting, like the sarcastic clap that the villain in a movie always gives after the hero does something... well, heroically stupid. I turn around to see Rosie, a small smile on her dark lips, her hands held out in front of her.

"Rosie, you know that I hate asking questions. You're really putting me in an uncomfortable position here."

She stops clapping. "What do you need to ask me?"

"Why are you doing what you're doing?"

Her smile quickly pulls itself into a shocked gape. I find it quite amusing. "Because of that... that girl, Al. She doesn't belong here, and for some reason, you think that she does."

I narrow my eyes at the woman who used to be my closest friend. "You're dumber than I thought, Rosie," I say, grinning. "(Y/N) does belong down here. If I think that she belongs down here, then she does belong down here, because what I say and what I think is the law."

"Just in case you forgot, you aren't the ruler of hell. Lucifer is. What he says and what he thinks is the law, not what you think and do. You aren't the law, Al. Lucifer is."

"You couldn't be more wrong." I lean down slightly, so my face can be level with hers. "I am the most powerful demon in hell. I'm the Radio Demon. If you haven't gotten that by now, well... then I don't know how you're still alive."

Rosie shakes her head, slowly, and says nothing. She's disappointed, but she has no right to be. I'm the one who should be disappointed in her.

"I'm smart enough to know that you set this whole thing up, Rosie. I am so very ashamed to have ever been associated with a demon as dumb and heartless as you."

Again, she is speechless.

"Tell me why you would do something like this," I demand.

"Why?" Rosie cries. I can hear the desperation in her voice, the frustration. "You shouldn't be asking me why. I should be asking you! Why do you think that (Y/N) belongs down here? Why do you insist upon going against Lucifer and everyone else in hell? Why can't you just let her go?"

"Because I love her."

"But you don't love anyone! You've never loved anyone, except for your mother!"

My voice is gentle, contrasting greatly to Rosie's ear-splitting pitch. "I love her."

"What about us?!" Her voice cracks.

I've always known that Rosie cared about me, but I always thought that the extent of her care never went past the 'friendship' area.

I never would have assumed that she would be stupid enough to think of me as anything more than a business partner. Maybe I am the dumb one.

Rosie's bottom lip is quivering now, and I watch as she bites down on it roughly. I lessen my smile and shake my head. "There is no us. There never was an us. And now, because of what you did, there won't be a you anymore."

"What do you mean?"

It all happens in the blink of an eye. I push my suit jacket back, take out my knife—for the second time—and fling it at Rosie's chest. It sinks deep.

The dark shade of her blood stains her beautiful, victorian-style dress. I feel the familiar flash of excitement that comes with murder, but it's soon overcome with guilt as realization sinks into her emotionless black eyes.

"This is your fault," she mumbles before stumbling backwards and falling to the ground with a lifeless thud.

Her body is impossibly still, relaxed against the unnaturally vivid grass. I lean down and grab the hilt of the knife, sliding it out of her chest before returning it to its rightful place in my waist pocket.

"I'm sorry, Rosie." I say to myself. "You crossed me. Anyone who crosses me must pay the price, which is a heavy one, indeed."

I walk away, following the direction Eve took (Y/N). I'm angry at Rosie, for asking me to meet her here when she knew I would have (Y/N) with me. I'm angry at Adam and Eve, for thinking they could take my sweetheart away without having to deal with me. I'm angry at myself, for not realizing what was happening sooner.

I don't think about the frills of Rosie's expensive purple dress lying collapsed on the grass, or the sinister laugh of hers that I will never hear again, or the songs that we used to sing together, skipping through the city streets with the moonlight streaming down and drenching us in blue light. I think about how she crossed me. She told me to meet her here, and she wanted me to bring (Y/N), so that Adam and Eve could steal her away from me.

How foolish of her. How foolish of them all.

☆ Second person POV, past tense

Eve knelt down, reaching for something underneath the grass. Or maybe she was just going to touch the grass. You weren't sure what she was doing, until she found a loose chunk of dirt and brushed it away.

There it was, the worn wooden edge of a door, built into the ground so it could remain hidden for who knows how long.

Once all of the dirt was gone, Eve had enough space to open the door. It looked wet—like it might have already started to rot away—and when she opened it, a loud squeak echoed through the woods.

Eve quickly looked back the way we came with wide eyes, as if she was scared something might be chasing us from that direction. Her expression was gone in a flash.

Beneath the open hatch was a ladder that sank down into a dark hole. It looked bottomless. "Go ahead," Eve said, ushering you forward. "I promise, there isn't anything dangerous down there. I'll be right behind you."

You trusted her, more than you had ever trusted anyone, but it wasn't a matter of whether or not you thought the hole would have a bottom. There was another feeling sitting in the back of your head, gnawing at you like a nesting bee. "Am I forgetting something?" you wondered aloud, looking around at the beautiful oak and Magnolia trees.

You noticed a crow sitting upon one of the oak branches overhead, and for some reason, it looked familiar.

"No, you aren't forgetting anything." Eve touched your arm, and just like that, the feeling went away.

"Oh, of course I'm not forgetting anything," you said with a small laugh. "Sorry. My brain has been a little weird lately."

Eve smiled at you and, like everything else, it looked warm. "That's okay, dear. Just head down the ladder. We can talk more when we get to the bottom, and then we can watch a movie and eat all of the snacks in the world."

"I can't wait," you replied with a grin. You walked around to the base of the ladder, then cautiously placed your foot on the first rung. It creaked. You feared that it might snap in half under your weight, but it didn't.

You shifted your feet down the next few rungs, then stopped when you were about a foot deep in the hole. You looked up at Eve, who was standing right above you. She gave you a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, I'm right here—"

Just then, a sound came from somewhere up on the surface. Eve's head snapped to the side, the way a scared deer's might when they first notice the headlights of a car.

"Shit," Eve muttered. She knelt down at the edge of the hole, her face coming close to yours. "Go down. Keep going until you hit the floor. I'll be there soon. Be careful, and whatever you do, don't come back up."

You nodded, and Eve placed her hand on your cheek. The fear that had been in your eyes a second ago vanished.

Then she stood up, drawing her palm away from you. The cold fear came back, crashing down on you like a wave. Eve grabbed the hatch door and slammed it down, making the ladder shake underneath your grip.

You blinked, but there was no use. Everything was dark.