You’ve learned not to hope for silence. The silence is never silent long, he always comes back. It’s sometime near evening, when the sound of the heavy lock clicks through the empty space again. You tense against the pipe behind you, metal cuffs biting into your skin. You’ve stopped trying to twist out of them. All it gets you is more blood. More bruises. He walks in slow, like he’s strolling through a garden. And this time, he’s holding something in his hand. Your phone. Your stomach twists before your mind even catches up. He holds it between two fingers like it’s delicate. “Oh good,” he says brightly, as if this is normal. “You’re awake. I was just thinking about you.” You say nothing. He walks closer, tapping the screen with his thumb. “Guess who’s been texting?” You close your eyes. “Sammy,” he says, voice full of false warmth. “He’s so loyal. It’s really sweet. ‘Miss you.’ ‘Hope you’re okay.’” He makes a face, mimicking Sam’s voice in a high, nasal falsetto. “Just got out of Utah, call me when you can, love you so much-“ He snorts. “Pathetic.”

You glare up at him, chest heaving. “I swear to God—”

“Oh, don’t start with threats,” he sighs, wagging his finger. “You’ve got no cards to play, sweetheart. All you’ve got is time. Time and that pretty little thing growing inside you.” He flicks through the messages again, sighing dramatically. “I should probably text him back, don’t you think? He’ll start to worry.”

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

He stops scrolling and grins. “Of course I’m going to,” he says, crouching down until you’re face to face. “We don’t want him driving all the way back here thinking you’re in danger. That would ruin the surprise.” The light of the phone screen glows in his hand. He opens a new message. “Let’s see… What would you say? ‘I miss you’… that’s safe, right?” He types it in slowly. “Maybe with a heart? Or is that too much?”

Your jaw locks. You’re shaking, fury bubbling under your skin like acid. “Go. To. Hell,” you spit.

He grins. “Mhm, I love when you talk dirty~” He presses send. The sound of it, the whoosh of the message being delivered, hits you hard. You picture Sam out there somewhere, phone buzzing in his hand. Lighting up with your name. A message he thinks is from you. He trusts you. Lucifer rises to his full height, watching your face with amused interest. “You look like you’re about to cry. Aww.”

“You don’t get to-”

“I already did,” he interrupts softly, venom in every syllable. “I touched everything. You, him, the memories you made. The body you trusted. The face you kissed.” He steps closer. Bends down and whispers it into your ear like a lover: “I wore your world like a coat. And it fit perfectly.” You lurch away, wrists screaming in protest as the cuffs dig deep. He tuts and straightens up. “Honestly, I should send him something sexier next time. Maybe a pic from that night in Jodie’s bed? Oh wait… no phone camera. Shame.” Your stomach churns violently. You think you might vomit. “I wonder what he’ll say when he finds out,” he muses. “That while he was playing hero across state lines, his face was here. Making love to you. Putting my baby inside you.” He looks down at your abdomen with something like pride. “And you let me. Naughty thing.”

Your voice is barely a whisper. “You tricked me.”

He smiles. Shrugs. “And it was so easy.” Then he pulls the phone from his pocket again and tosses it on the floor in front of you, screen still lit. “Go ahead,” he says. “Take a look. Tell me I didn’t nail the tone.” You don’t look. You won’t. “No? Alright then.” He shrugs and picks the phone back up. Lucifer turns on his heel and strolls toward the exit, humming softly. Something classical, a lullaby meant for monsters. At the door, he glances back. “Oh,” he says casually, “When Sammy texts back, I’ll let you read it. I want you to see how much he loves you.”