"So this is Hell?"
Aria stood at the edge of a black-marble balcony, staring at a world that shouldn't exist. The sky above was a blend of crimson and deep violet, swirling with clouds that moved too fast, like time itself had no patience here. Floating islands drifted across the horizon. Towers made of bones and obsidian rose in the distance. And below?
Demons.
Some looked like nightmares—horns, wings, teeth where they shouldn't be. Others looked… human. Too human.
"Technically, this is the neutral zone," Lucien said behind her. "Welcome to the Crossway."
She turned, eyes sharp. "The Crossway?"
He was wearing a tailored black suit now, casual like sin. His tie was undone. His sleeves rolled up. Every inch of him screamed trouble, and she hated how stupidly good he looked in the light of the infernal moon.
"It's where both worlds overlap," he explained. "Hell's main gate to the mortal realm. It's where I run my... business."
"Demons have business?" she asked dryly.
Lucien grinned. "Oh, sweetheart. We practically invented corporate greed."
She gave him a glare. "So, what now? Do I get a pitchfork and a cape?"
Lucien raised a brow. "Actually… you're getting a suit."
He snapped his fingers.
In a flash of black smoke and crimson silk, Aria's hoodie and jeans transformed into a sleek, dark-red blazer over a black leather corset, pants that fit like magic, and heeled boots. She blinked.
"… Okay. Not mad at it."
Lucien looked smug. "You look dangerous."
She tilted her head. "I am dangerous."
He didn't argue.
Instead, he motioned toward a spiral staircase that led into the heart of the obsidian palace.
"Time for your first briefing."
Aria followed him down the steps. Her heels clicked against the polished stone. The deeper they went, the louder the world got—shouts, laughter, music, and a language that wasn't hers but still made her bones ache.
They stopped at a door glowing with runes. Lucien pushed it open.
Inside was a war room.
Literally.
Long table. Holographic maps of both the mortal and underworld. Creatures standing around it—demons in suits, a woman with fire for eyes, and a sarcastic-looking guy with goat horns and a latte.
Every head turned to her.
"This," Lucien announced, "is Aria Monroe. She's my temporary partner."
Murmurs rippled. One demon actually snorted.
Lucien didn't blink. "Anyone who disrespects her disrespects me. And we all know how I deal with that."
Silence.
Then the fire-eyed woman smiled. "Welcome to Hell, darling. Hope you survive the first week."
Aria smirked. "I survived my ex trying to murder me. I think I'll be fine."
Lucien looked at her, a flicker of pride in his eyes.
But deep beneath the pride was something else.
Fear.
Because even he didn't know how powerful she might become.
And Aria?
She had no idea that she carried something inside her that could change everything.