It was as they'd expected Armageddon to be—worse in some ways—but something was distinctly missing.

And that something was Satan.

A week passed. Seven days of turmoil, and the angels had the fighting somewhat contained to America. Serah watched from a distance as vile monsters fell, one by one being locked back in their cages, but it didn't escape her notice that their leader was nowhere to be found. Not one reported sighting, not a single incident.

Serah locked herself down in the closed community center in Chorizon, watching it all unfold from a distance. She'd been alone all week, surrounded by absolute silence and stillness. She was watching out the window on the eighth morning near dawn, hoping against hope that the sun would manage to find a way through the ruddy clouds today, when something shifted in the room behind her.

She went to turn around, but she was too late.

A thick arm wrapped around her waist, pinning her in place, as a hand instantly clamped down over her mouth. Her body was violently pulled back into another, a vaguely familiar aroma filtering into her bloodstream. She tried to fight the attacker off, but she was still somewhat weakened, and they were too strong.

"Relax, angel," a soft voice said. "I'm not here to hurt you."

She fought harder at the sound of the voice, only breaking free because he voluntarily loosened his hold. Spinning around, she stepped back swiftly. "Satan."

His face contorted, his lip curling as he bared his teeth. "I’ve told you not to call me that."

"It’s what you are!"

He stepped toward her, eliciting a retreat from her. She pressed her back against the cold glass of the window. He froze, raising his hands defensively. "Look, I know you’re angry—"

"Angry?" she hissed. "I’m furious! You used me! You knew this would happen!"

"I did," he admitted, "but it’s not that black and white."

"It is," she insisted. "I was a fool to think otherwise. You, Satan, mean to annihilate the world."

"I do," he admitted again, "but like I said—not that black and white."

"You’ve infected me," she spat. "The numbers may not be singed into my skin, but the mark of the beast is on me now."

"You're being dramatic," he said. "I did nothing without your permission. You gave yourself to me."

"You coerced me!"

"Bullshit!" he spat as he stepped toward her, not deterred this time when she tried to slip away. He slammed his hands against the windowpane, his face mere inches from hers. "You wanted it. You still want it. I can smell the desire on you, sense it inside of you, begging for more release."

"You lie!"

"I do," he said, "but not about this."

"I hate you!"

"Maybe so, but you still want me. You still need me. Dare I say, there may even be a part of you deep down inside that actually cares for me."

"Never!"

He quirked an eyebrow. "Now who’s the liar, angel?"

Lucifer inched forward, tilting his head, preparing to kiss her. Serah slipped away before their lips could touch, ducking under his arm and dashing across the room, away from his grasp. Lucifer let out an exasperated sigh as he slowly turned to look at her.

"I’ll call for him," she threatened. "Take one step, and I’ll scream for Michael."

"He’ll kill us both."

"He will," Serah said. "But at least I’ll save the world from you."

She expected that to discourage him, but his lips curved into a teasing smirk as he took a calculated step in her direction.

"Do it," he taunted. "I dare you."

She glared at him, remaining silent.

"That’s what I thought."

"What do you want from me?" she seethed. "You’ve broken free. You’ve got what you wanted."

"Not all of it."

"What else is there?"

"You."

"You’re a self-centered, repulsive traitor, filled with unforgivable sin."

"Are we reciting résumés? If so, you’re a fallen angel."

"I’ve not fallen."

"Yet."

"You think I don’t know?" Her voice quaked. "You’ve stolen everything from me."

"I gave you more than I took." He glanced around the dark room, his expression softening as his smile fell. "If it’s any consolation, I—"

"It isn’t," she spat, cutting him off as bitter tears sprung to her eyes. She reached up, wiping them away as they streamed down her cheeks. "I don’t know what’s going to happen to me."

"That’s why I came here," Lucifer said. "I want to show you something."

"I’m not interested, so you may as well leave."

"Oh, you’re going to want to see this. Trust me."

"I don’t trust the likes of you," she said. "I was stupid to think you were different. You’re not. You’re nothing but—"

"Satan, I get it," he said, furiously shaking his head. "You sound like a fucking broken record. Do you even believe yourself anymore? You don’t have to trust me. You don’t have to be interested. But you’re going to see this, whether you want to or not."

Lucifer darted toward her, so fast her diluted senses couldn’t keep up with him. He snatched ahold of her, yanking her to him, and apparated the two from the room the second she tried to fight him off. They appeared in the front yard of a suburban house, where he let go of her as she struggled against him. She looked around, recognizing it right away, a hint of panic bubbling up inside of her.