THE FIRST CRACK

Azrail's muscles locked as Asmodeus' grip tightened slightly on her jaw. His fingers, cold and unyielding, felt like iron, anchoring her in place. His crimson eyes bore into hers with such intensity that it was almost as if he could see through her very soul. The usual playful glint, the mocking smirk—none of it was present. This time, there was only cold calculation and something darker, something much more dangerous lurking beneath the surface.

For the first time, he wasn't playing games. For the first time, he looked serious.

And that made her stomach twist in a way she couldn't quite explain. Something about the way he studied her made her skin prickle, her instincts screaming at her to break free. Every part of her body, from her clenched fists to her rapid heartbeat, urged her to resist, to lash out, to get away from him. But his presence, his power, felt suffocating, too overwhelming to escape. The silence between them was thick, the kind of silence that came before a storm—a tension she could taste in the air.

Azrail gritted her teeth, forcing herself to hold his gaze. "Let go."

The words came out with a defiance she didn't feel. Every instinct told her to fight back, to lash out and free herself from his grasp, but the weight of his presence suffocated her. His grip was immovable, and every fiber of her being seemed to be drawn to him, not by choice, but by something deeper. Something unnatural.

Asmodeus didn't move, his expression unreadable. His fingers pressed harder into her skin, and she could feel the tendons in her jaw strain under the pressure. "I don't think you understand the situation," he murmured, his voice low, almost too calm—like a storm waiting to break.

Azrail felt the bond pulse between them. It was a sharp tug, like a line of fire running from her chest to his, a connection that she hated with every inch of her being. It wasn't just the physical pull; it was something much worse. Something inside her recoiled against the bond, as if her very soul was being dragged toward him, unwillingly.

She wasn't sure if it was pain or something worse, something she didn't want to name. It made her want to scream, to tear at her skin and crawl out of her own body, to escape the suffocating sensation. She felt small, vulnerable—everything she hated.

Her fingers curled into fists, nails digging into her palms. She fought against the burning sensation in her veins, the anger that welled up inside her. She wouldn't let him see her falter. Not now. Not when he was so close to breaking her. "I don't care about your 'situation,' Demon King. I want answers."

Her words came out with more force than she expected, but they didn't seem to faze him. Instead, he took a step back, his grip finally releasing her jaw. Azrail inhaled sharply, rubbing the spot where his fingers had been. The touch lingered on her skin, cold and possessive.

Asmodeus' gaze remained on her, calculating, as if measuring her every movement, every word. "Good," he said smoothly, his voice almost too calm. "Because so do I."

Azrail exhaled sharply, her breath coming in uneven bursts. She was dizzy, her head spinning from the lingering pressure of his touch, but she refused to show it. She straightened up, her chin tilted defiantly. "Then talk."

The Demon King tilted his head slightly, his gaze narrowing. "You don't seem to understand how this works."

Azrail narrowed her eyes, unwilling to back down. "Oh, let me guess. You ask the questions, and I obediently answer?"

His lips curled into a faint, dangerous smirk. The expression didn't reach his eyes—his eyes were cold, unreadable. "No," he said softly, the words dripping with a dark promise. "I don't ask."

Before Azrail could react, the air around her shifted. A sudden, crushing weight pressed against her chest, like a giant hand squeezing the life out of her. Her breath hitched, and she stumbled back, her vision blurring for a split second. She gritted her teeth, her hands flying to her chest, but the weight didn't lift. It only grew stronger, tighter.

The shadows in the room moved unnaturally, twisting, shifting as though they had a life of their own. They seemed to be drawn toward her, creeping along the stone walls, pooling on the floor, gathering in the air like predators closing in on prey. The darkness was alive, pulsing, aware, and it was all moving toward her. The temperature dropped, the air thickening with the oppressive power that radiated from Asmodeus.

Azrail's heart pounded in her chest, her pulse racing. Her breath came in ragged gasps, but the crushing force refused to release its grip. It was like invisible chains had wrapped around her ribs, tightening with every passing second.

She knew it wasn't his hands that held her.

It was his power.

Asmodeus wasn't touching her anymore, but his power, his raw, unrelenting energy, was everywhere. It pressed down on her, suffocating her, threatening to break her. It was like he was testing her, trying to see how much she could endure before she shattered. His power felt like a living thing, a dark presence that reveled in her pain, in her fear, in her vulnerability.

No.

He was forcing her to break.

Azrail's teeth clenched, her body trembling with the effort to stand her ground. Her hands balled into fists, her nails digging into her palms as she fought against the invisible weight pressing down on her. The edges of her vision began to blur, the darkness closing in on the edges of her mind, but she refused to give in. She refused to let him see her falter. She refused to be weak.

With all the strength she could muster, Azrail lifted her chin, her gaze locking with Asmodeus'. Her glare was sharp, defiant. She wasn't going to let him break her. Not like this.

"That all you got?" she spat, her voice low but steady.

For a split second, she thought she saw something flicker in Asmodeus' expression. It was quick, barely noticeable, but it was there—something that resembled approval, a hint of respect. The look made her stomach twist, but she didn't flinch. She wasn't sure if she should be proud of the fact that she had earned his respect, or terrified that he would now come for her with more force.

Then, just as quickly as it had appeared, the weight vanished.

Azrail sucked in a sharp breath, the sudden release of pressure almost enough to make her collapse. Her legs shook beneath her, but she caught herself on the stone floor, gritting her teeth against the dizziness that threatened to overtake her. She wasn't going to fall. Not in front of him.

Asmodeus took a step forward, his voice smooth as silk, like the calm before a storm. "You're stronger than I expected."

Azrail forced herself to smirk, even though her chest still ached from the pressure. "Yeah, well. You're more of an ass than I expected. So I guess we're even."

For the first time since their encounter began, Asmodeus actually chuckled.

The sound was dark, unsettling. It sent a strange chill down Azrail's spine, but not fear—something else. Something dangerous, something she couldn't place. It made her skin crawl in a way that both terrified and thrilled her.

Then, just as quickly, his amusement faded, his expression hardening once more.

"I will find out what you are, Azrail," he murmured, his voice quiet but filled with a cold promise. The words sent a shiver down her spine, but she refused to let him see how much they affected her.

Azrail's smirk didn't waver, though her heart was racing in her chest. "You can try."

The words left her mouth with a confidence she didn't fully feel. There was an unease deep in her gut, a sense that she wasn't entirely in control of this situation. She wasn't entirely in control of herself. She wasn't even entirely in control of the bond that had tied them together, the invisible threads that linked them in ways she couldn't comprehend.

Asmodeus' gaze softened, but only for a brief moment, before he took another step back. The distance between them felt like a chasm, but the tension still crackled in the air, a silent battle that neither of them had won.

Azrail didn't know how much longer she could keep up this facade. She didn't know how much longer she could keep pretending that everything was fine, that the world wasn't collapsing around her. But she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of seeing her crumble. Not now. Not ever.

Because she wasn't sure she wanted to know the answer either.