Since the moment you arrived in Hell you were bound to Gehenna and Satan. Satan, the King of Gehenna and embodiment of Wrath, was the first devil you met and the most important one in your new life, mostly because he was inserting himself into your life constantly. The moment you woke up his red eyes were staring at you, or when you were with any of the Kings, Satan was interrupting you on his red motorcycle, storming you away from the rival. Even when you walked around beautiful Gehenna, he would start grabbing you in places that made you blush. Satan had one thing in mind, to keep you with him at all costs.

Today, it started with a smack.

Just a light one. Nothing serious. A quick, playful slap to Satan’s ass as you walked past him in the hall of his palace. An impulsive little taunt after he’d spent the morning being particularly smug. You were proud of yourself, honestly. The sound was satisfying. Sharp. Decisive. And then the world stopped.

The heat around you spiked as if Gehenna itself took a sudden breath. Even the ever-burning torches on the obsidian walls seemed to flicker uncertainly. You took exactly three more steps before you felt the shift in the air behind you, predator to prey. You turned.

Satan was frozen in place. His black horns curved above his head, the tips glowing faintly red, burning more fiercely than just a moment ago. His broad shoulders rose slowly, as if inhaling the very audacity of your crime. One hand flexed at his side. The muscles in his back rippled beneath his open coat. His long, snowy hair swayed with the subtle shift of his head as he turned, deliberately. Slowly.

“You slapped me,” he said, his voice low, dripping with menace and amusement. When he turned to face you, his red eyes were gleaming like molten rubies, narrow and focused, like he was deciding whether to destroy or devour. His lips curled into a slow, sharp smile. Satan chuckled darkly. “That was an invitation to war.”