The moment the chains fell away, Azrail made her move.
She didn't hesitate. She couldn't afford to.
The second Asmodeus unshackled her wrists, she lunged with the ferocity of a cornered animal. Every muscle in her body coiled for the attack.
Her hand shot forward, aiming for the dagger hidden in his belt. The dagger—the only weapon in the room she could use to make her escape. But he was faster, his reflexes honed by centuries of demonic existence.
Before her fingers could even brush the cold metal, shadows erupted from the ground, coiling like serpents, wrapping around her limbs with suffocating force. They constricted, dragging her to her knees.
Azrail snarled, her body fighting against the pressure, muscles straining as she attempted to break free. But the shadows were unyielding—like iron chains, tight and unforgiving.
Her breath came in harsh gasps, her pulse thrumming in her ears.
Asmodeus didn't even flinch.
He stood before her, the calm in his stance a stark contrast to her violent thrashing. His crimson eyes gleamed with amusement, watching her struggle as though he had expected this. No, he knew this would happen.
Azrail bared her teeth. "Bastard," she spat.
"Predictable," Asmodeus murmured, his voice as cold and smooth as ever. He tilted his head slightly, his gaze narrowing with intrigue. "Did you truly believe I wouldn't anticipate your first move?"
Azrail hated how calm he was. How he didn't even see her as a threat. It infuriated her, and with each passing second, that fury only grew.
She yanked against the shadows, her limbs screaming in protest. Nothing.
Her body trembled with the effort, but it was useless. These restraints were beyond her.
Fine.
If brute strength wouldn't work, she'd have to play smarter.
Azrail stilled, dropping her shoulders in an exaggerated show of submission. She let out a slow breath, releasing the tension in her body.
Her posture shifted, no longer resistant but seemingly broken. Weak.
Asmodeus noticed immediately, his brows lifting slightly in curiosity.
Interesting.
Azrail lifted her gaze to meet his. Her eyes softened just enough to appear vulnerable.
A trick she had used countless times before, when the world was still human. When they were still fools.
Playing weak. Acting helpless.
And when they least expected it—striking.
Asmodeus stepped closer. His lips curled upward in a twisted smirk. "Clever," he murmured, studying her with far too much interest.
Azrail tilted her chin up, keeping her eyes locked with his. "You don't scare me," she said, her voice low, but laced with defiance.
He chuckled. A dark, knowing sound. "You should be terrified."
His gaze flickered down—just for a second. Barely a moment. But it was enough.
That was her opening.
Azrail twisted her entire body, shifting her weight in a fluid motion.
The shadows around her buckled, just slightly. She felt them loosen, and without thinking, she tore free.
She surged forward.
Her fingers wrapped around the nearest dagger—one that had been carelessly left on the stone table—and with a swift, practiced motion, she swung it in a deadly arc.
Her aim was precise, her attack fast, calculated—straight for his throat.
But as the blade hurtled toward him—
It stopped.
The air around the dagger seemed to freeze, and it hung suspended in midair, just inches from Asmodeus's skin.
Azrail's breath hitched. Her mind screamed in disbelief. What was happening?
The dagger didn't fall. It didn't move.
It just... stayed there.
Then, in an instant, it shattered.
The pieces rained to the floor, small shards of useless metal clattering against the cold stone.
Azrail's stomach twisted. Her pulse quickened, the sensation of helplessness creeping in, slowly, insidiously.
No. This couldn't be happening.
Asmodeus sighed, his voice a rich drawl that sent a chill down her spine. "I'm getting tired of this."
His hand lifted—casual, lazy.
Azrail tried to move.
But she couldn't.
An invisible force slammed into her chest, sending her crashing into the cold stone wall. The impact knocked the air from her lungs, and pain exploded across her back. She gasped, her vision swimming as she fought to stay conscious.
Her body hit the ground hard, like a ragdoll thrown aside. The impact left her breathless, her muscles screaming in protest.
Before she could even think of getting up, he was there.
Kneeling in front of her.
His tall frame towered over her, casting a long shadow. His expression was no longer amused—it was cold, lethal.
His fingers, ice-cold and unyielding, wrapped around her throat, not choking her, just holding. Just enough to keep her still.
Her pulse pounded beneath his grip, each beat like a countdown.
Azrail's chest heaved as she struggled to breathe, her entire body trembling. She glared up at him, her eyes blazing with defiance, even as he held her captive.
Asmodeus leaned in close, his voice a deadly whisper, each word cutting through the space between them like a blade.
"If you try that again," he murmured, his tone low and dangerous, "I will not be so generous."
Azrail's fingers curled into fists, her body aching, but her resolve as strong as ever. "Then kill me."
Asmodeus stilled, his expression unreadable for a moment. Something flickered behind his crimson eyes, something... unfamiliar.
Then, slowly, he smiled.
Not a kind smile. Not a cruel smile either. But a knowing one.
"You don't want to die," he said softly.
Azrail's teeth ground together in frustration. She hated that he was right.
She hated how easily he could read her.
Asmodeus released her, standing up and stepping back. Azrail coughed, rubbing her sore throat, trying to steady her breath. Her skin tingled where his touch had been.
"You are not a prisoner, Azrail," he said, his voice colder than before, as if nothing had happened.
She shot him a venomous look, still trying to regain her composure. "Really? Because it sure as hell feels like it."
Asmodeus chuckled, the sound dark and unsettling. "You are here because I need answers."
Azrail's brow furrowed. "And what if I don't have any?"
He smiled, a smile that made her insides twist with unease. "Then I suppose we will find them together."
Azrail's stomach churned. The way he said that made it sound more like a threat than an offer. And she wasn't stupid enough to think she could escape that easily.
Asmodeus turned away from her, pacing slowly, his thoughts clearly elsewhere. "The infection that plagues your world was never meant to spread like this," he said, his voice distant, as though he were talking to himself more than to her.
Azrail's eyes narrowed. "You're saying this was an accident?"
"Not quite," Asmodeus replied, his gaze darkening. "It was a controlled experiment."
Azrail's heart skipped a beat.
Experiment.
She felt her blood freeze in her veins.
Thousands of people dead, infected, twisted beyond recognition—everything she had fought for, everything she had lost, all for some sick demon's curiosity?
Her blood boiled, fury rising like a tidal wave inside her chest.
She shot to her feet, fists clenched. "You son of a—"
Asmodeus's voice cut through her anger with unnerving calmness. "Careful, little mortal. I have been patient with you thus far."
Azrail bit her tongue, forcing herself to calm down.
Not because she was afraid.
But because she needed more information.
She needed to understand why she was immune to the infection. Why she had been spared when so many others had fallen.
And Asmodeus, for all his cruelty, was the only one who could answer that.
She exhaled sharply, trying to regain control. "What do you want from me?"
Asmodeus stopped pacing, his crimson eyes locking onto her. "A deal."
Azrail's muscles tensed, her instincts screaming in warning.
She hated making deals with demons.
Demons and deals never ended well.
"And if I refuse?" she challenged, raising her chin defiantly.
Asmodeus smirked, his eyes gleaming with that dangerous amusement she had come to loathe. "You won't."
Azrail's hands clenched into fists.
God, she hated him.
He turned toward the massive doors, his voice a dark promise. "Walk with me."
Azrail hesitated, her thoughts swirling. "You're not going to chain me again?"
His smirk didn't fade. "Do you think it would make a difference?"
She gritted her teeth. No. It wouldn't.
But she followed him out of the chamber anyway, her mind racing with possibilities.
She had failed to escape. Again.
But now—now she had a chance. A chance to get real answers.
Even if it meant walking deeper into the heart of the demon's lair.
Even if it meant making a deal with the devil himself.