All Chapters of Christmas In Hell: Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

Misha’s POVWe found Ava in a small, chic art gallery in SoHo. The place was all white walls, polished concrete floors, and the faint, pleasant scent of oil paint and old wood. Muted classical music drifted from hidden speakers. Mortals milled about, sipping wine from delicate glasses and making thoughtful noises at canvases covered in chaotic splashes of color. It was a world away from the silent, star-spun infinity of the Fates’ Realm. It was a world that had no idea how close it was to fraying apart at the seams.Ava stood near a large abstract piece, a swirl of angry reds and deep blues. She was the picture of mortal assimilation—dressed in a stylish black jumpsuit, her dark hair pinned up artfully. She held a glass of white wine, her expression one of serene contemplation. She looked beautiful, normal, and completely unprepared for the reality we were about to drop on her.We didn’t announce our arrival. One moment, the space beside her was empty; the next, we were there.Ava did

Damon’s POVI stood in the heart of my domain, a place where my will was the only law that mattered, and I had never felt more useless. Instead of going to my family’s home, I went to where I lived before I found Misha.The air in my penthouse was thick with a tension that had nothing to do with the ever-present thrum of Hell outside my windows. It was the suffocating stillness before a storm, and my wife was choosing to stand in the center of it. Misha sat on the floor, a picture of fragile mortality that warred with the terrifying, unknowable power coiling within her.And Ava was going to help her unleash it.I watched Ava kneel behind Misha, placing her hands on her temples. She was about to help my Misha tap into a power that had shattered a fundamental law of the universe. It was like asking a candle to help guide a supernova. My every instinct screamed that this was a mistake, that I should have locked Misha in the deepest, safest vault in all my realms and dared reality itself

Damon's POVMisha sagged, and I had her in my arms in an instant, pulling her back from the now-stable center of the room. “Are you alright?”“I’m fine,” she breathed, leaning against me. “It’s… quiet now.”We had done it. A flicker of pride, of teamwork, almost surfaced.“Wait,” Ava said, her voice sharp. She knelt, her fingers hovering over the stone floor where the vortex had been. “Something’s wrong.”I extended my own senses. The chaotic energy was gone, but there was a residue. A faint, magical signature I didn’t recognize. It wasn't demonic, angelic, or Fae. It was cold, sterile, and utterly alien. It felt oily, like a predator that had wiped its tracks but couldn't erase its scent.“This wasn’t a natural decay,” Ava confirmed, her eyes meeting mine over Misha’s head. The usual sarcasm was gone, replaced by a cold, clinical dread. “This was sabotage. The corruption was planted here. Deliberately.”The Fates’ warning echoed in my mind. There is a hunter in the void.This wasn't

Damon's POVAva’s head snapped up. “The Reaper? Why would he be involved?”“He’s an auditor of souls,” I said, the pieces clicking into place with sickening certainty. “He deals with the transition from existence to non-existence. If anyone in this universe understands the mechanics of erasure, it’s him.”“You think he’s working with them?” Misha asked, horrified.“No,” I said, shaking my head. The movement sent a fresh wave of cold through me. “Donn is a creature of balance. A cosmic bureaucrat. He wouldn't align himself with a faction that seeks to cause this kind of chaos. But he might know what this is. He might know who would use such a weapon.”The irony was a bitter pill. The one man who had circled my mate like a vulture, the one rival I had barely tolerated, was now our only hope. To go to him would be an admission of weakness, a humbling I had not experienced in millennia.But looking at Misha’s terrified face, at the precious, vulnerable life she carried within her, I knew

The Reaper's words echoed, a hollow clang against the sudden silence. Seventy-two hours. A cosmic countdown ticking away in the very cells of my being. My arm felt less like flesh, more like a wound of night, sucking the light from the room, from me. Misha's face, pale and strained, blurred at the edges as the void in my shoulder pulsed, a hungry mouth."He's gone," Ava stated, her voice flat, the sarcasm momentarily absent. "Just dropped a cosmic truth bomb and vanished. Typical." She looked at me, a flicker of something raw in her dark eyes. "You look worse than usual."A weak, involuntary laugh escaped me, a rasping sound. "My apologies for dying ungracefully." The void throbbed, a cold ache spreading through my chest. Each breath scraped. "It appears my honeymoon is… cut short."Misha knelt beside me, her hand brushing my cheek, cool and grounding. Her eyes, usually pools of warm honey, now held a fierce, desperate fire. "Don't joke. This isn't a joke." Her gaze flickered to my sh