Chapter 5
They call them demons like they don't wear wings too; like fire isn't holy if it comes from below; like a man with a trigger and no prayers left doesn't count as a god if he stands alone.
But I've seen angels with blood-stained knuckles and demons who weep for the innocent. I've walked in silence where darkness swallows time, where men become ghosts before they die.
The world divides everything neat—heaven above, hell below—but the truth bleeds across those lines.
I've learned that salvation isn't coming. Not for sinners who wear their crimes like armor. Not for men who love what they can't have because of who they are.
This is the space between—not fallen, not risen.
Just standing.
Just breathing.
Just waiting for judgment that never comes because I already carved it into my own flesh and—
"Legion!"
My pen stops mid-sentence as Savannah's voice calls up from below. I'd forgotten about her. I crawl across the plywood floor, careful of the weak spots where the rain's gotten in over the years. The trapdoor creaks when I pull it open, sending down a shower of dust and splinters.
And there she is, looking up at me. Savannah Ashby with her blonde hair catching the late afternoon sun, making a halo like she’s part hallucination, part fantasy.
Her face is tilted up, eyes squinting against the light.
There's something different about her now—something wild and uncertain I never saw before prison.
"What are you doing up there?" Savannah calls, her hand shielding her eyes.
"Just thinking." I push the trapdoor wider. "Needed some quiet."
Her fresh tattoo catches the light—PROPERTY OF DEMON—still red around the edges. My chest tightens at the sight. It wasn't supposed to be like this. She wasn't supposed to end up here, marked by my world.
I slide the notebook under the blanket beside me, tucking it away like a secret. "Come on up. Ladder's old but it'll hold."
She tests the first rung with her boot—the boots someone gave her to replace her bare feet. Everything she's wearing belongs to someone else now. "I've been looking for you everywhere," she says, voice strained with the effort of climbing. "Nobody knew where you were."
"That's because I'm a stranger here these days."
Savannah is about half way up when this comes out. She stops, looking at me with squinting eyes. "What?"
I laugh. It's real, too. Because the writing did the trick. It put the demon away after Colt let him out. "Nothin'," I say. "Come on. It's nice up here."
The ladder creaks under her weight, and I reach down to grab her wrist when she's close enough, pulling her up the last few rungs. Her skin is warm against mine, pulse fluttering under my thumb.
For a second, we just stare at each other. Her face is still haunted by what Marcus did to her for three days.
"Found me," I sigh, letting go of her wrist.
She looks around the blind—at the blankets piled in the corner, the camp stove, the tin cups. "What's goin' on up here?"
"Just… thinkin'," I say, moving back to sit against the wall. "It's a nice quiet little place to do that."
"I've been looking for you," she says, crawling over to me. I open my legs up and she settles between them, collapsing against my chest, like we've been doing this every day, all our lives. Immediately, my fingers find her hair and start playing with it.
"After everything with Colt and—"
"Don't." The word comes out harder than I meant it to. "I don't wanna talk about that."
"All right." She doesn't argue.
Then I feel like an ass, so have the urge to explain. "It's just… it's not even Colt, ya know?"
Savannah sits up a bit, trying to look at me. "How could it not be about Colt? He's thirty-one years old. She's seventeen. Eighteen now, but…"
She sighs.
I sigh.
"Yeah. He's…" I blow out a breath. "I dunno. She could do worse, I guess. She could've ended up here, ya know?"
"Hmmm." This hum of hers says a whole lot without sayin' anything at all.
It says… I ended up here.
It says… you brought me here.
It says… you failed.
"There are pictures of us all over the internet," Savannah says. "Someone leaked videos of last night."
"For fuck's sake. Who?"
"Not sure. Mama Jo thinks it's Brandy, but she's denying it."
"I’m sorry, Savannah. I'm so fucking sorry I ever brought you here. What the hell was I thinking?" I start to get up. "We need to—"
"No," she says, pushing back on me. "Just…" she sighs. "Can we just take a breath?" She turns her body, repositioning so she can see me. "All I want is to be with you. I don't care where it is."
"It's all I want. Ever wanted. You're it, Savannah. You've been my dream since that first time at the silo. Before I even knew what it meant to love someone like this, I loved you."
She smiles up at me. "Whatever happens to us, as long as it's us and we're not alone, we'll be OK."
It's bullshit, these words. It's not even remotely true. But I don't want her to know that. I'll do anything to keep her from knowing that.
She leans up and kisses me. Her lips taste both sweet and salty. And it reminds me of how into it she was last night. How she took my cock in her mouth—
"Yes, what?" I ask back.
"Yes, I want you inside me right now."
I chuckle. "That's not what I was thinking."
"Not yet," she says.
For a moment, all I see in her is sadness. Loss. Betrayal. It kills me.
And she knows I can see it, because she puts a fingertip on my lips. "No. Don't think. Just… take me." These last two words aren't even a sound. Just her lips moving around the letters. "Talk dirty to me, Legion."
"Why, Savannah? When I could just talk sweet to you instead? Wouldn't you like that better?"
"If you talk sweet to me right now, it'll sound like pity. That's what you're thinking. You're… re-thinking. I shouldn't be here. We aren't gonna make it. The world is a cruel place and happy endings don't exist."
I don't reply, because she's right. That is what I'm thinking.
"I don't want you to feel sorry for me, Legion. Protect me? Sure. Rescue me when I need it? Absolutely. But all the other times, I want you to… " She looks away for a moment. Up at the water-stained ceiling like she's thinking. "I want you to take me for granted."
"What?" I almost laugh.
"Not in a bad way. Just… a for-sure way.
Like you know, with one-hundred-percent certainty, that I will always be here.
" She places her hand on the side of my cheek.
“Take me for granted. Talk dirty to me. Fuck me any way you want.
And by doing this, you're sending a signal.
A signal that says, you're so sure of my love, you assume it will be there tomorrow. "
This sounds… well, crazy as all hell. The words are hard to put together because she's trying to describe a feeling of… comfortablenesss. Not even sure that's a word, which is the problem.
She's trying to define… emotional certainty. A kind of sacred mundanity. The feeling of being so woven into someone’s daily existence that your presence isn’t a question—it’s a given.
And I get it.
That's what I want too.
Someone who is so completely mine, I feel certain that she will be by my side no matter what.
No matter how far away, no matter how mad she is, no matter what.
We are a we. And we won't ever be alone again, even if we are.
Savannah gets up on her knees and takes off her jacket, throwing it across the small room. She tilts her head, smiling coyly at me.
So I help her with the shirt. Lifting it up over her head, watching as her tits appear. The moment I toss it, she starts clawing for mine. Taking off my cut, then my shirt joins hers on the floor.
For a moment, we're still. I watch her as she studies the tattoos on my chest.
Her fingertips trace the archangel's sword raised in the air, like triumph, if you don't look too hard at the defeat on his face. At the wounds in his side. Wounds he earned.
Below the angel, the demon wails. No sword in him now. That's the problem with the moment after.
The evidence is somewhere else.
"They're both dying," she whispers.
"Yeah." My voice comes out rough. "That's the point."
She leans down, presses her lips against the brand that marks me as Badlands property. The infection makes it burn, but I don't pull away. Pain and pleasure—they've always lived in the same house for me.
"I want you," she says against my skin.
I run my hand up her back, feeling the notches of her spine. She's lost weight since I went away. Three years of her life I missed. Three years of her changing while I stayed the same, locked in concrete and counting minutes.
"You sure?" I ask, even as my cock hardens against her thigh. "I mean, life is so fuckin’ heavy right now—"
"I need this." Her eyes lock with mine, fierce and certain. "I need you. I want hard this time, Legion. I want to feel you. Your power. Your muscles, your strength. Claim me again. I want it."
I want it too. I want to claim her as mine every day for the rest of my life.
I lower her onto her back, allowing her to sort out her legs as I pin her wrists above her head with one hand. The blankets beneath us are rough and I don't care. I doubt she does either. I use my free hand to unbutton her jeans, tugging them down her hips. She lifts up, helping me.
"These aren't even yours," I growl.
"Nothing is anymore." She kicks them off. "Except you."
I press my mouth to her neck, teeth grazing the soft skin there. "Say it again."
"I'm yours," she breathes. "Only yours."
My hand slides between her legs, finding her already wet. I groan against her throat. "Fuck, Savannah. You're soaked."
"Been thinking about you all day," she says, her voice breaking as I circle her clit with my thumb. "About last night."
"About me fucking you in front of everyone?" I slip two fingers inside her, feeling her clench around them. "You liked that, didn't you? Everyone watching while I claimed what's mine."
Her back arches. "Yes."