And later the revelations with Pierce? Cain? Whoever, Lucifer didn’t care. Not when she wouldn’t even read his texts. He tried to call her one more time. And again she ignored him. Lucifer tried to ease his mind with a few songs on his beloved piano, but
“Looks like those sick bastards sewed the prosthetics onto his back.”
Sick indeed. Chloe wanted to vomit at that thought, the bile already rising in her throat.
“Give me a few more minutes, I’ll free the wings too. I can’t cut them loose in this positio
Lucifer paced in his penthouse. Wings flaring out behind him, feathers sharp like razors cutting through the stone pillars and the furniture like nothing. And he didn’t care. He needed to find them but how? Did he miss something?
He wanted to go home. The long forgotten and atrophied muscles screamed when he tried to move the wings more than just to open them or lay them against his back, and even that was painful.
