The Devil’s Justice

The night air was crisp, laced with the distant hum of city life. Charis stood atop a rooftop, peering down at the quiet street below. The hunt was on.

He unfolded the napkin Selene had given him, the names of her tormentors scrawled in her delicate handwriting. Four names. Four lives to extinguish.

His first target: Ethan Parker.

Ethan, a mid-level manager, was walking toward his car after a late-night meeting at the company where Selene once worked. Charis appeared behind him, stepping out of the shadows.

"Ethan Parker," Charis called.

Ethan spun around, eyes widening. "Who the hell are you?"

Charis smirked. "A friend of Selene."

Before Ethan could react, Charis grabbed him by the throat, lifting him effortlessly. Ethan's legs flailed, his hands clawing at Charis' grip. The demon dragged him into a nearby alley, slamming him against the wall.

"You should know," Charis murmured, "I don't kill quickly."

He pressed a single finger to Ethan's forehead, and fire ignited from the touch, searing his skin. Ethan's screams echoed through the alley.

"You like power, don't you, Ethan? You liked having control?"

Ethan sobbed, his body convulsing in pain. "Please! I didn't—"

"You did. And now, you'll feel what it's like to be powerless."

Charis tore into Ethan's mind, forcing him to relive every moment of his cruelty from the victim's perspective. The pain, the horror, the helplessness—Ethan experienced it all, every second of what he had inflicted. He shrieked, begging for it to stop.

"Selene sends her regards."

Charis placed his hand over Ethan's chest, and his body ignited from the inside out. The flames devoured him slowly, burning away his flesh inch by inch as he screamed in agony until there was nothing left but charred bones.

The next target: Brian Holloway.

A senior analyst. One of the men who laughed as Selene suffered.

Charis found him in his office, working late, sipping coffee. He knocked on the glass window. Brian frowned, looking up. He opened the door.

"Can I help you?" Brian asked.

"Step inside," Charis commanded.

Something in his voice forced Brian to obey. As soon as he did, Charis grabbed him and flung him into a chair. The office lights flickered.

"You erased the evidence. You silenced her cries. Now, I will silence yours."

With one clawed hand, he plunged into Brian's gut, twisting as he pulled out something glowing and red—his pain, his fear, manifesting in Charis' grasp.

Charis grinned and squeezed.

Brian's body crumpled, shriveling like dried paper until he collapsed into a pile of ash.

The third: Derek Miles.

A project leader. He had pinned Selene down.

Charis found him in a high-end lounge, celebrating a promotion. He slid into the seat beside him.

"Derek."

Derek turned, his usual arrogance flickering with unease. "Yeah? Do I know—"

Charis leaned in. "Selene."

Derek paled. "Look, man, I don't—"

"Shh."

A snap of Charis' fingers, and they were no longer in the club. They were in an abandoned warehouse, the air thick with Derek's rising panic.

Derek stumbled back, looking around wildly. "What the—"

Charis grabbed him, shoving him into a chair. "Do you know what fear does to a man?" he whispered.

Derek's torment lasted hours. Every wound he inflicted healed just enough for the pain to continue. He felt the suffocation of drowning, the slicing agony of a thousand blades, the helplessness of his own victims. When Charis finally wrapped his fingers around Derek's throat, watching the last of the life drain from his eyes, he whispered:

"Selene sends her regards."

The final target: William Aldridge.

The governor's son. The man responsible for covering it all up.

Charis found him in his penthouse, asleep in silk sheets. He stood over him, watching, before grabbing him by the ankle and yanking him onto the floor.

William screamed, scrambling back. "Who—who are you?!"

Charis crouched. "Selene. Remember her?"

William's face drained of color. "No, no, please, it wasn't me!"

Charis' grin widened. "Liar."

He spent the longest on William. Made him feel every ounce of the fear he had inflicted on Selene. He broke his body, his mind, made him beg and plead. He showed William visions of Hell, of the torments that awaited him.

When the sun rose, William lay broken and breathless, staring up at Charis with tears streaming down his face.

"Selene sends her regards."

With a flick of his wrist, William's body burned to nothing.

As the sun rose, Charis felt a shift in the air. A small, glowing orb appeared before him—a white ball of light. Selene's soul. He reached for it, but before he could grasp it, it vanished.

"Huh," Charis murmured. "Guess we'll see where you ended up."

Selene followed Charis' advice. She went home and took a long, hot shower, letting the steam and water wash away the weight of the past. She cooked a steak—the one she had been saving for a special date. The rich scent filled her apartment as she carefully seared it to perfection, plating it with roasted vegetables and a side of garlic butter. She poured herself a glass of the expensive wine her father had gifted her, savoring each sip as it warmed her throat.

She put on her favorite playlist, letting the music fill the silence of her apartment. She swayed slightly as she moved, humming along to lyrics she had long memorized. She curled up on the couch and watched her favorite movie, mouthing along with her favorite lines, smiling softly at moments that once brought her comfort.

Afterward, she drew herself a bubble bath, sinking into the warmth, inhaling the calming scent of lavender. She traced patterns in the water, feeling the tension melt from her muscles. For once, she wasn't counting the hours of safety—she simply existed, enjoying the moment.

Finally, she crawled into bed, wrapping herself in soft sheets, feeling… at peace.

For the first time in months, she didn't feel fear. Didn't feel despair.

She closed her eyes, feeling the world fade away.

When she opened them again, the air was thick with heat.

She was no longer in her bedroom.

Darkness surrounded her, punctuated only by the distant flickers of fire. The ground beneath her feet was uneven, charred rock. Distant screams echoed through the void.

And the day start with her first breath in Hell.