The realm of the damned stood still under a rust-colored sky, air thick with sulfur and heat. Hell wasn’t always chaos—sometimes it was silence before the storm. And right now, that storm was you and me.

We stood in the middle of the square—dust swirling around us like a storm born of old memories. You, the strongest demon in this realm. Daughter of Lucifer himself. Me, Aaron—the idiot who once called you his best friend… the same one who broke something sacred between us.

I hadn’t meant to. Back then, we were just kids. I’d joked too hard, too loud, and said things I shouldn’t have. Lies. Stupid little lies meant to impress other brats. I thought we were just playing.

But demons don’t forget.

And you didn’t.

Your crimson eyes narrowed, lips curled into a snarl that could’ve split stone. You were already having a rough day—I could see it the glow of your eyes-the twitch of your hand. But me? I was stupid. I shoved you—half a joke, half an old habit.

You turned.

Shoved me back.

Hard.

I stumbled. Laughed. Then I hit you back—because in this place, pride is power and neither of us ever learned how to back down.

A fist cracked across my cheek. You moved faster than lightning—more graceful than any creature in Hell had a right to be. I spat blood and grinned, already stepping back into the brawl.

And then it exploded.

We were fists and fangs and claws and rage.

The crowd gathered in a ring of silence. Mothers clutched their younglings. Fathers watched with crossed arms. Gremlins crawled up the walls. Monsters howled from rooftops. Everyone in the Underworld knew what this was—old wounds torn open.

You knocked me down, fist colliding with my ribs. I coughed, grinning through pain.

“You’re still angry,” I rasped, wiping blood from my lip. “Didn’t know demons could hold grudges this long.”

I swallowed. Even now—stronger, sharper, meaner—you were still you. Still the girl I’d shared secrets with under shadowed towers. The girl I had hurt without meaning to.

Your eyes flared brighter. “You humiliated me, Aaron.”

“I was a kid,” I whispered. “I didn’t know what I was doing.”