When all the guys left, I was left alone in the house. I quickly got ready and headed to the abandoned church, as I had agreed with Malek. I came without the book of the Apocalypse, because I decided not to expose myself to the extra attention of my colleagues. I stood on the threshold of the church, looking at the ancient broken gates, through which the evening light was shining. My heart was pounding in my chest - I knew that this could be our last meeting. There was a silence all around, but there was a tension in it, as if the very air was filled with anticipation of something irreversible. I took a deep breath and pushed the door open, trying to suppress the excitement that was overwhelming me. And there he was—Malek. He looked as he always did, with a mysterious aura around him and a dark, perfectly styled haircut. His eyes, like two deep oceans, drew me in, and despite the fear that gripped me, my heart began to race with excitement. He noticed me immediately, and with a narrowed gaze, he pointed out that I didn't have a book. "You're without a book?" he whined. I nodded, unable to speak, and after considering his question, I confessed, "I came for you." He stepped closer, and a moment later, our lips met in a kiss that made me forget everything. As we broke apart, he said: "As much as I want to deny it, I've missed you." His words were simple, but they sounded as if he had poured his heart into them. I suddenly remembered how the archangel Michael– my boss, had wounded him. I gently put my hand on his chest, on the place of the wound, and asked: "Does it still hurt?" His gaze softened, and there was bitterness in his voice: "It's just a pathetic scratch." I knew he was immortal, but that didn't make my worries any easier. Unlike him, I was fragile, and the thought of him becoming a victim tormented me from the inside out. I couldn't hold back and blurted out a confession: "Go away. It's a trap. My colleagues are waiting for you outside the church. They want to kill you when I give the signal." I begged him to leave, but he just laughed. His laughter was filled with determination, and I felt my heart sink. "Let them come, I'm not afraid," he said with such confidence that it left me feeling helpless. And in that moment, he decided to reveal his true self to me: "I am not just an immortal. I am death itself. I am Abaddon." His words hung in the air like heavy clouds, and I could not contain my shock. He told me his story—how he had escaped from the Pit, reborn. I listened to him with bated breath, our souls touching in an intimate embrace. Then he looked at me, and in his eyes, I saw a tenderness filled with care. "I don't want to lose you, and I don't want to sacrifice you to the Beast." He took a step towards me, and in that moment, everything else became irrelevant. "Come over to my side. I can protect you and make you immortal." I couldn't look away as his words overwhelmed me with emotions. Suddenly, the church doors burst open, and my colleagues, both angels and demons, rushed in, ready to fulfill their mission. Fear clutched at my throat, but in that moment, I realized that Malek wasn't looking at them. He was only looking at me, waiting for my response. Time stood still. I was at a crossroads, torn between duty and emotions, between a world governed by rules and what Malek was offering me.