Promised to the Tyrant のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 51 - チャプター 60

Lucifer’s POV I had always run a fucking tight ship, ensuring that everyone followed the rules that we had laid down. In the last week, though, I had fucking strangled people with the way I was handling things. My obsession regarding her safety had driven me from leadership to dictatorship. With the whole vampire business and all that had been happening, I had already been on edge. But it was when I saw her lying in bed, jerking and twisting as she whimpered in pain, from whatever torment she was experiencing in her head that I lost my shit. It was like she was in hell. Her face was a canvas of agony, as her hands went between her hands, back, and shoulder, holding them as if she were wounded there. All our efforts to wake her up from whatever nightmare she was in were to no avail. We did everything under the roof to fucking bring her out of that unconscious state, but the more we tried, the worse it became. Her cries only grew louder, and her movements only became more desperate

Omerta’s POV It was like I was experiencing the aftereffects of meditation, the one where they have a gong. And the gong sounds and vibrations had washed over my entire body, bringing every body part and sense alive. But in reality, these were the after-effects of some mere fleeting moments that we had shared, and my body had become so overwhelmed just by his proximity. I had my eyes shut tight as I tried to take in the awareness that I felt in every part of my body. "I need you to open your eyes." His order was all I needed to leave the cocoon of my body and open my eyes to be treated to our combined reflection in the mirror. There we were standing in front of the bathroom mirror, looking directly into each other’s eyes through the mirror. Eyes that were full of needs, wants hopes, and desires. "Didn’t I tell you not to wear this again?" He teased me as he continued to play with my bra straps, leaving a hot trail on my skin with his every touch. I knew what he was referring to,

Omerta’s POV I was still in bed, reminiscing about the deliciously hot moments that I spent with Lucifer, appreciating the very intricate tattoo that he covered my chest with. Luckily, this one was not permanent and would come out in a couple of days. One moment I was in bed, and the next I was not. I was in a busy marketplace that was swamped with people rushing about. Was this Enna? No, but from the signs and the accent, it seemed like I was somewhere nearby. How did I get here? From my previous dreams, I knew there was no point hovering over that question. Leaving those thoughts aside, I focused on the crowd that surrounded me. In that sea of moving people, there was one individual who stood still. The minute I spotted the man who stood right in front of me with his back facing me, my eyes zoned in on him, zoning out all other people. As if sensing my presence, he tilted his head back as if to check who was there. I was unable to get a glance at his face, my view being blocked

Lucifer’s POV "The answer to that is a little complicated." That shitpiece informed me. "Huh! It always fucking is with you guys." I was unable to hide my anger. "I didn’t mean it like that, I just meant to know that you need to know Amira’s journey first, because the answer, or at least what I think the answer is, is a part of her journey." "Lucifer, let him tell us however he feels comfortable," Avo reprimanded me. Aaron nodded as he started talking. "Like I told you guys, my mom and Amira were cousins. They grew up together in Canada; they were best friends, closer than real sisters. Growing up too, Amira had a very strong presence, which was also expected, since she was a direct descendant of the first daughter’s bloodline." "First daughter’s bloodline?" This time, it was Set who posed the question. From the look on everyone’s faces, it was clear that they were clueless about it. Everyone except Avo, who was well aware of what that witch was talking about. "I told you guys

Omerta’s POV Breathe, just breathe. One breath at a time. I told myself for the thousandth time. Breathe, count, and repeat—that was the mantra that I repeated over and over to myself as I absorbed the words that came from Aaron’s mouth, who was supposedly my cousin. That was what kept me afloat through all the well-guarded secrets and lesser-known facts that came to light one by one as he narrated the story. To say that I was overwhelmed was a gross understatement. A part of me was numb, while another was a volcano of emotions waiting to explode. Growing up, I cooked up many stories in my head about who my mother was and why she left. I had imagined a plethora of scenarios, ranging from her being a spy to an ideal daughter. But never in my wildest dreams, had I expected my mother to be a…..a witch. Witches. I could not even get myself to say the word aloud. My human upbringing did not give me a kind vibe about the whole concept, and remembering all the side remarks Lucifer had