*Logan

Logan finished with the handful of demons in the smaller hall and followed Chiara's path into the balcony hall, hand pressed to a deep cut in his abdomen to keep his guts inside. He struggled to hold his daemonium at a half-shift, enough to fight but not so much that he lost control again.

Logan strode across the floor, sword raised warily against the hordes already there. In a single glance, he took in the situation. Chiara, on the cusp of freedom, must have been caught by demons hiding in the great hall. Her wings were tangled in a bola cord. He couldn't run to her, though, not with his wound.

Another demon walked across the dais towards his angel. That bastard Zeigfel. Logan slowed, wrath and rage burning through him. His daemonium almost broke free. As he watched, Zeigfel took a hold of Chiara, who faltered before him.

Then, fuck.

Zeigfel met his gaze. Everything Logan had ever desired came welling up to the forefront of his mind.

Hell played a million different games to fuck with your mind and bend you to its will, but the end goal was the same: to make you give yourself to Hell.

It dangled what you wanted right in front of you...

Zeigfel offered him a seat at the table. Power. Lordship. Legions of his own. Pleasure beyond his imagination. Logan still had the cursed bone coin in his pocket, given to him by the lurker in the corridor right before he went into Pride, proof of Zeigfel's promise.

It was right there in front of him—everything he had ever desired.

Hell dangled what you wanted in front of you, in order to hide the only treasure that mattered.

Logan had been here before, when he was paired against his twin in the arena—when they were in the Hall of Wrath, and Logan had to choose whether to kill him quickly or slowly, because not killing Jeraar was no longer a choice by then.

Hell fucked with him so many times before. He should have run long ago with Jeraar to the Midlands. They wouldn't have lived the centuries that Logan managed on his own in Hell, but they would have died fighting together, the two of them against their enemies.

Everything he wanted was right here, in this hall.

The poison was back, Logan realized and gave a bitter grimace.

Of course the fucking poison was back now. That aching, cold and hot, of death growing larger. He tried to ignore it.

The sword wound in his side wept blood, but muscle and viscera knitted together more with every passing moment. He had to be patient. He couldn't attack the hordes like this, much less an entire legion and the Duxtori, too.

He had to be smart.

But fuck.

His angel, his Chiara, stood in defiance of the darkest lord of Hell, wrapped in chains, wings tangled in a bola.

His heart....

The poison.

Fuck.

In his heart....

Demons weren't meant to love and it was killing him. It wasn't the drop of water from the Fountain poisoning him still.

It was love and it was killing him. He wanted to roar his frustration.

For the first time ever it was all clear to him. The path. The answers. What he had to do, but he didn't know how he was going to do it.

Save her.

Save her.

Save her.

Nothing else fucking mattered at all.

She was his path, as he had known from the beginning. She was the path and the end of him, his way to redemption, to freedom from Hell and the invisible chains that bound him.

If an angel could fall, a demon could rise.

He wrenched his mind to the present.

From the corner of his eye, he surveyed the room, the legions and their placement, the balcony opening, her chains, Zeigfel's lack of weapon. He calculated. Chiara's voice filled the hall like a crystal bell. Her courage and heart were unbroken, even believing that he would betray her.

"I will never submit," she said, practically spitting at Zeigfel.

Instead of answering, Zeigfel narrowed his eyes at Logan in a silent challenge to commit the final act demanded of him to prove his loyalty, and earn his rewards.

Cut her wings.

"You have your answer." Logan's voice was edged with the pain from his wounds and the spreading poison in his chest, but also with wrath. Fury, sharp as his blade, clawed up his throat.

Chiara shook at his words, and his love for her was killing him.

"Come then," Zeigfel said. "And finish this."

With a last quick glance around the hall, Logan surveyed the other demons. There was no room for error.

He straightened to not show pain and strode forward, climbing the stairs to the dais with deliberate slowness.

Make those fuckers wait for him...

As he reached Chiara and Zeigfel, he kept his eyes focused above and away from her, not daring to test his strength by meeting her gaze. He grabbed her by the wings roughly, letting the hissing sizzle of their power burn his bare skin.

Let those lesser demons believe in who he was.

"You have my bone coin on you?"

Logan found it and held it up. Chiara didn't look, but Zeigfel smirked.

"I offered you a choice, Dark Flame," Zeigfel said. "What do you answer?"

Tossing him the coin, Logan nodded. He found the cord that bound Chiara's wings and sliced through it, then dropped the cut bola to the floor.

"Unchain her first," he said. "I meet my enemies without help."

Chiara hissed in anger. "I am outnumbered a thousand to one. Meet me alone on the battlefield, scum."

Zeigfel laughed, though, and motioned for her cuffs and chains to be removed. Logan waited, so close to Chiara that her breathing stirred the feathers hitting his chest. Plumes of smoke rose from him.

This pain was nothing.

The second she was free, Logan dragged her from Zeigfel and forced her to turn and face deeper into the hall. He held her tight.

"Look upon this angel before I cut her wings!" he yelled. Jeering voices and cheers met his words.

"Do what you want, I will never be like you," she whispered through clenched teeth.

He lowered his face to her ear. "Remember Lucius. Remember his end. Be ready."

Without waiting for her to reply or react, he brutally dragged her back to face Zeigfel. He pushed her to her knees, the forces of wrath and the new emotion of love warring in his chest, tearing him apart as he had never been wounded before.

He had to make it look good. He had to be close enough...

"One last kiss, my sweet?" he asked. He leaned over her shoulder, rubbing her cheek with his.

Zeigfel's hand landed on him. "Finish it now. The angel is mine."

"Oh, but she was mine many times before."

Zeigfel crowded closer, envy and wrath clouding his expression, until he was close enough for the reach of Logan's sword.

Now.

Logan raised his sword, hand firmly on the base of Chiara's wing. Her muscles were tight for action.

He lifted his sword, and drew it downward sharply. At the same time, he yanked her backwards and she bent into him, letting the sword, when he twisted his blow, slide over her harmlessly. He struck.

And that bastard Zeigfel pivoted at the last instant.

The sword slid into Zeigfel's shoulder, and not his heart. Chiara rolled sideways, out of the way, but instead of flying for the balcony opening to freedom, she twisted behind Zeigfel. She snatched a knife from his waist and held it at his throat.

"Send the legions away," she hissed.

Zeigfel ignored her, though. Heaving ragged breaths of air, he fixed on Logan.

"Your pet doesn't seem to understand what is happening here," the Duxtori said.

"Chiara," Logan said. "Step back."

She dug the blade deeper in to Zeigfel's neck. Drops of dark blood appeared at the blade's edge. "Send them away!"

"No," Logan said. "Let him go."

Confusion and hurt flooded her face. She shook her head. Logan saw her hand tense on the blade, but before she could draw it across his throat, Zeigfel grabbed it. With a flick of his wrist, he tossed the blade away.

"You want me, Logan?" he hissed. "Come and get me."

When Chiara had killed Lucius in the dungeon it had happened too fast for Logan to realize the missed opportunity. But this time, Logan was going to challenge and kill one the lords of Hell, and his greatest enemy.

"A challenge!" Logan bellowed so the legion in the room would hear and know that he intended to fight a Duxtori. If he won, he would take his place. If he lost...

Zeigfel held out his arms and strutted across the dais like a fucking peacock, despite the blood pouring from the huge hole in his shoulder. By the Sleeping King of Hell, it was probably mostly healed already. The lords healed fast, it was one of the advantages of the position.

Logan took Chiara's arm and drew her close, keeping an eye on Zeigfel. "Now, Chiara, go. Do not wait for me, do not try to find me in the Midlands. This is how I buy your freedom."

*** Logan is still fighting for her, but how will they both get out? Thank you for reading!!! ***