Chapter Nine #2
Dimitri turned to face him, and the amusement had drained from his expression. What replaced it looked hungry and cold and completely devoid of anything human. Or demon. Just predator, and Isaac was very clearly prey.
“That was a mistake.” Dimitri started forward, and the other two demons moved with him, spreading out to cut off any escape route Isaac might try for.
Isaac backed up, mug raised like it would actually help, his eyes tracking all three demons at once. The wall hit his shoulders, and he realized he’d run out of room to retreat. His heart tried to beat its way out of his body, each pulse painful against his ribs.
Dimitri reached for him again, and Isaac threw the mug as hard as he could. It hit the demon square in the face, ceramic shattering and drawing a thin line of blood across his cheek. Dimitri’s head snapped back, and for one beautiful second, Isaac thought he might actually get past him.
Then Dimitri’s hand closed around Isaac’s wrist, yanking him forward with enough force to make his shoulder scream in protest. Isaac’s free hand came up, nails raking down Dimitri’s face, going for his eyes because his life had taught him to survive, to inflict as much damage as possible.
The demon jerked his head back, and Isaac’s nails caught the edge of his jaw instead, drawing more blood but not enough to drive the demon back. Dimitri’s other hand grabbed Isaac’s hair, fingers twisting in the strands and pulling hard enough to bring tears to his eyes.
“You’re going to learn that fighting is useless.” Dimitri’s voice had gone flat, empty of the mocking amusement that had colored it before. Now he just sounded annoyed, like hurting Isaac no longer entertained him.
The front door exploded inward.
Wood and metal flew across the room in a spray of splinters and bent hinges. Whichello stood in the doorway, his eyes completely black.
Marcus came in behind him, moving immediately toward the two demons who’d been flanking Dimitri.
They met him halfway, and the sound of impact echoed through the small house, loud enough to make Isaac’s ears ring.
Dimitri’s grip on Isaac’s hair vanished, making Isaac stumble backward until his legs hit the couch.
He went down hard, his tailbone connecting with the cushions while his eyes stayed locked on Whichello.
The demon moved like something that had forgotten how to be human.
Each step toward Dimitri carried the weight of centuries, boots connecting with the floor in a rhythm that made Isaac think of funeral marches.
Frost spread from each footfall, creeping across the hardwood in patterns resembling reaching fingers.
Dimitri backed up, his hands raised in a gesture that might have been placating if his expression hadn’t held that same cold amusement. “Whichello. I was wondering when you’d show up.”
“You touched him.” Whichello’s voice echoed with a power built for destruction. “After I warned you. After I told you what would happen.”
“Did you?” Dimitri moved sideways, putting the overturned coffee table between them. Glass crunched under his boots from the broken lamp. “Because I seem to recall you locking me in a cell instead of actually following through on your threat. Empty promises from a demon who’s gone soft.”
Isaac pushed himself up from the couch, his legs wobbly. Behind him, Marcus slammed one of the demons into the wall hard enough to crack the drywall. The sound of breaking bone followed, the hard snap making the demon scream.
Whichello didn’t look at the fight happening behind him.
His attention stayed fixed on Dimitri with the kind of focus that said nothing else in the world existed.
“You escaped my dungeon. Stole a phone. Lured Isaac here with malicious intent.” Each word came out controlled and dangerous.
“Tell me why I shouldn’t end you where you stand. ”
“Because you want to hear me beg first.” Dimitri’s smile widened. “That’s what this is really about, isn’t it? Your pride. I challenged your authority by touching something you claimed as yours, and now you need to make an example of me.”
“No.” Whichello took another step, and the temperature dropped so fast Isaac began shivering. “I’m going to kill you because you hurt my mate. The rest is just context.”
Dimitri’s expression shifted then, the amusement draining away to reveal something uglier underneath. Desperation, maybe. Or the kind of rage that came from knowing you’d lost before the fight even started.
“Your mate.” Dimitri’s laugh came out hysterical. Maybe he was finally losing his mind. “The great Whichello, terror of realms, brought low by a red panda. Do you know what the others say about you now? How they laugh about the mighty demon reduced to playing house with his pet?”
“I’m nobody’s pet!” Isaac went for Dimitri, but Whichello pulled him back, setting Isaac aside before turning his attention back to the demon.
“Next time I won’t save you.” Whichello’s hands flexed at his sides, fingers curling and uncurling in a rhythm that drew Isaac’s gaze. Frost had started creeping up the demon’s forearms, white and crystalline against his skin. “Then again, you put your hands on my mate.”
“So kill me then.” Dimitri spread his arms wide, the gesture theatrical and mocking. “Go ahead. Prove you’re still the monster everyone fears. Freeze me solid and shatter me into pieces. Make it artistic. Make it memorable.”
Whichello moved.
One second he stood across the room, the next his hand had closed around Dimitri’s throat. Isaac watched, eyes wide. Dimitri’s feet left the floor, boots kicking uselessly as Whichello lifted him with one hand.
“You think I need to prove anything?” Whichello’s voice was quiet enough that Isaac had to strain to hear it over the sounds of Marcus still fighting behind them. “You think your opinion matters enough to influence my actions?”
Dimitri clawed at Whichello’s wrist, nails scraping against skin that had started to frost over. His mouth opened, trying to form words, but only strangled sounds came out. His face was turning red then purple, veins standing out against his temples.
Isaac should feel something. Horror, maybe. Satisfaction. Relief that Dimitri couldn’t hurt him anymore. But all he felt was numb, like his emotions had packed up and left without a forwarding address.
“You want to know what the others say?” Whichello tilted his head, and the movement looked wrong, too bird-like for something in a humanoid body.
“They say I’m ruthless. That I eliminate threats without hesitation.
That I’ve survived fourteen hundred years because I’m willing to get my hands bloody.
” His grip tightened, and Dimitri’s struggles grew weaker. “They would be correct.”
Frost spread from Whichello’s hand, racing up Dimitri’s throat in delicate patterns that looked almost beautiful. Like lace made of ice, intricate and deadly. Dimitri’s eyes went wide, panic finally breaking through the arrogance that had armored him.
“I am the monster everyone fears,” Whichello continued, his tone steady and smooth, like the drip of poison sliding off the edge of a knife. “You touched my mate. Now you die.”
The ice reached Dimitri’s jaw, spreading across his face in a mask that glittered in the dim light filtering through the windows. His mouth opened wider, trying to scream, but the sound came out muffled. Frost crept into his mouth, coating his tongue and teeth.
Isaac’s stomach turned over, bile rising in his throat.
He’d seen death before. Had caused it, even, when his father's body had hit the floor and stopped moving. But this felt different. Slower. More purposeful. Whichello wasn’t just killing Dimitri.
He was making a statement written in ice and suffering.
“Stop.” The word came out of Isaac’s mouth before he’d decided to speak. “Whichello, stop.”
Whichello’s head turned toward him, those black eyes focusing with effort that looked painful. “He’s not worth saving, Isaac.”
“I know.” Isaac took a step forward, his feet crunching on broken glass. “But you’re not a monster, Whichello. Not to me.”
Whichello’s attention returned to Dimitri, whose face had gone completely white with frost. “It’s not an insult, it’s a fact. And monsters don’t show mercy to threats.”
Behind them, something heavy hit the floor. Isaac glanced back to see Marcus standing over two bodies that weren’t moving anymore. Blood pooled around them, dark and spreading across the hardwood. The enforcer’s knuckles dripped red, his expression savage.
Isaac turned back to Whichello and Dimitri. The ice had reached Dimitri’s eyes now, frost coating his eyelashes and creeping across his pupils. His struggles had stopped entirely, his body gone limp in Whichello’s grip.
“Is he dead?” Isaac asked.
“Not yet.” Whichello’s fingers tightened a fraction. “But close. Another few seconds and the ice will reach his brain. After that, there’s no coming back.”
The choice sat between them, unspoken but present. Whichello would listen if Isaac asked him to stop. Would pull back the frost and let Dimitri live. Probably. But that would mean Dimitri walking away, going free to try again later. To hurt someone else the way he’d tried to hurt Isaac.
The words that should’ve come out stayed lodged in Isaac’s throat. He wasn’t a killer. Had never wanted to be a killer, even after everything with his father. But looking at Dimitri, at the frost spreading across his features, Isaac couldn’t make himself care enough to intervene.
That probably said something terrible about him. About what living in survival mode for so long had done to his moral compass. But his silence felt like permission, like agreement written in the space where objections should’ve been.
Whichello’s hand flexed, and the frost surged forward. It happened fast, ice spreading through Dimitri’s skull in patterns Isaac could see through his skin. Crystalline branches racing through blood vessels and gray matter, freezing everything they touched.
Dimitri’s body went rigid, every muscle locking simultaneously. His eyes remained opened, frost-covered and staring at nothing. Then he shattered.
Not slowly. Not piece by piece. Just exploded into fragments so small they looked like snow, glittering particles that rained down across the floor in a cascade of what used to be a person. Whichello stood in the center of it, his hand still raised like he was holding a memory given form.
The silence that followed felt too loud. Isaac’s ears rang with it. Dimitri was gone. Not dead in the normal sense, not a body that could be buried or mourned. Just erased, reduced to frozen dust that would be swept into a trash can.
“Isaac.” Whichello’s voice broke through the ringing, and his eyes had returned to their normal gray. Still empty of regret, but at least human-looking again. “Are you hurt?”
The question felt absurd. Was he hurt? Physically, no. Dimitri hadn’t had time to do any real damage beyond grabbing his hair and throat. But hurt in other ways, in the ways that mattered and stuck around long after bruises faded? Yeah. Definitely.
“I’m fine.” Isaac cleared his throat. “Danny and Ash weren’t here. He lied about that part.”
“I know.” Whichello lowered his hand, frost still coating his skin up to his elbow. “I called Frothy Pine while we were waiting outside. Your friend is at that bar, safe.”
Relief flooded through Isaac so fast it made his knees weak. He sat down hard on the couch, no longer trusting his legs to keep him upright. Danny was safe. Ash was safe. They’d never been in danger, just used as bait to lure Isaac here.
And he’d fallen for it. Had walked right into Dimitri’s trap because the thought of Danny being hurt had overridden every survival instinct Isaac possessed.
“We need to leave.” Marcus spoke from across the room. “Neighbors might have heard the fight. Police could show up.”
“Let them.” Whichello moved toward Isaac, his boots crunching through what remained of Dimitri. “We’ll be gone before they arrive.”
He offered his hand to Isaac, palm up and waiting. Isaac stared at it for a long moment, at the frost still covering his skin. Slowly, he laid his hand in Whichello’s, choosing the demon, a life with him that he’d fought hard to hide from.
No more hiding.
No more running.
His place was beside Whichello, a monster who would freeze the world to keep him safe. Finally, Isaac felt like his feet had landed on something solid, something he could trust. Isaac had endured so much over his lifetime, and all he wanted was to be happy.
Whichello made him happy.