Part One

Years later…

I adjusted my position on the rough concrete of the rooftop, the cool night air kissing my bare shoulders. My sniper rifle, an old friend at this point, was locked and loaded, its scope trained on the dingy apartment window across the street. 

"Come on, you bastard," I muttered, finger twitching near the trigger. "I've got places to be."

The irony wasn't lost on me. Here I was, heir to the throne of Hell, crouched on a mortal rooftop like some common assassin. But hey, a girl's gotta have hobbies, right?

I shifted slightly, my black dress riding up my thighs. Normally, I wouldn't give two shits about getting a little blood splatter on my clothes. Hell, back home, it was practically a fashion statement. But tonight was different. Tonight, I had a date.

My mind wandered to the bar where I'd be meeting Elias in less than an hour. Would he notice if I showed up smelling like gunpowder and brimstone? Probably. Shifters have an unfortunately good sense of smell.

A flicker of movement caught my eye, and I tensed, peering through the scope. False alarm. Just a cat on the windowsill.

"Lucifer's balls," I growled, "if this asshole doesn't show up soon, I'm gonna have to reschedule. And I hate rescheduling."

I could almost hear Dad's voice in my head: "Patience, Lu. A good hunter always waits for the perfect moment." Yeah, well, easy for him to say. He wasn't the one lying on a dirty roof in designer shoes.

But I had to admit, there was a certain thrill to this. The anticipation, the power of holding someone's life in your hands. It was intoxicating in a way that even the finest hellfire whiskey couldn't match.

I allowed myself a small, wicked smile. Who said you couldn't mix business with pleasure?

Suddenly, the light in the apartment flickered on. My pulse quickened as I saw my target saunter into view. The demon – masquerading as a middle-aged businessman – loosened his tie and headed straight for the liquor cabinet.

"Gotcha, you slimy bastard," I whispered, adjusting my aim.

I took a deep breath, steadying my hand. The crosshairs aligned perfectly with his head. One squeeze of the trigger, and it'd be over.

Bang.

The sound was barely a whisper, thanks to the silencer, but the effect was instant. The demon's head snapped back, a spray of black ichor painting the wall behind him. He crumpled to the floor, twitching once before going still.

"And that's how it's done," I muttered, a smirk tugging at my lips. "Hope you're watching, Dad."

I kept my eye on the scope for a few more seconds, making sure the job was finished. No resurrection, no last-minute demonic tricks. Just a corpse cooling on an overpriced area rug.

"Mental note: tell Dad I found his runaway hellspawn. Maybe he'll finally get me that flaming sword for my birthday."

With a thought, I sent my rifle and gear back home. The familiar crackle of hellfire tingled across my skin as the equipment vanished. I stood up, brushing off my dress and giving it a critical once-over.

"Not a speck of demon goo. Perfect."

I closed my eyes, focusing on the hotel room I'd booked earlier. The scent of brimstone filled my nostrils as flames licked at my feet. In the blink of an eye, I was standing in a plush, air-conditioned suite.

I scrubbed my hands vigorously under scalding water, watching the last traces of gunpowder swirl down the drain. The scent of lavender soap replaced the acrid smell of cordite. 

My eyes sparkled with residual adrenaline, cheeks flushed. I smoothed down my dress, a slinky black number that hugged every curve. Perfect for a night out... or for concealing the dagger strapped to my thigh.

The elevator dinged, and I sauntered out into the lobby. My heels clicked against the polished floor as I made my way towards the exit.

"Time to see if this shifter's bark is as good as his bite," I mused, pushing through the revolving door.

The night air hit me, carrying the scent of rain-soaked pavement and distant cigarette smoke. I walked up the street, my senses on high alert. Old habits die hard, even on a date night.

The neon sign of the bar came into view, and I paused, taking a deep breath. "Show time, Luella."

I pushed open the door, the smell of whiskey and leather washing over me. My eyes scanned the room, landing on a man at the bar. Elias. Even from here, I could feel the raw animal magnetism rolling off him in waves.

He turned, his eyes locking onto mine with predatory intensity. A slow smile spread across his ruggedly handsome face as he stood, drink in hand.

"Well, well," he drawled, his gaze dragging over me. "Aren't you a sight for sore eyes? You must be Luella. I’m Elias."

I smirked, sauntering towards him. "Careful, big boy. Stare too hard and you might strain something."

Elias chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that sent a shiver down my spine. "Trust me, darlin'. I can handle the view."

As I slid onto the barstool next to him, I couldn't help but wonder if he had any idea what he was getting himself into. 

He leaned in close enough that I could smell his cologne, "what's your poison tonight?"

I met his gaze, letting a hint of mischief dance in my eyes. "Whiskey on the rocks," I replied, my voice low and husky.

As the bartender set our drinks down, I wrapped my fingers around the cool glass, bringing it to my lips. The amber liquid burned pleasantly as it slid down my throat. Elias watched, his eyes following the movement.

"So," he started, taking a sip of his own drink, "how was your day? Do anything exciting?"

I couldn't help the laugh that escaped me. If only he knew. "Oh, you know," I said, waving my hand dismissively, "just a quiet day of relaxation. Nothing too thrilling."

My mind flashed to the rooftop, the weight of the sniper rifle in my hands, the rush of adrenaline as I took the shot. Yeah, really relaxing.

I flagged down a waitress, suddenly feeling ravenous. "Let's get some food. How do you feel about wings?"

Elias grinned, flashing teeth that seemed a touch sharper than normal. "Sounds perfect. The hotter, the better."

"Challenge accepted," I smirked, turning to the waitress. "We'll take your hottest wings. Double order."