Chapter 29 Hadrian
HADRIAN
“Who should check on her?” Julian murmurs, eyes flicking between us like he’s hoping someone else will volunteer first.
Coward.
He doesn’t want to be the one to interrupt her. Doesn’t want to be the one she looks at when the door opens and all that fury spills out.
He doesn’t understand that she’s at her most beautiful when she’s unguarded.
When she forgets to armour herself against the world.
That’s when she’s lethal.
How perfect she is.
Adrian has already called Lucifer. Demanded more information about Caspian ahead of their meeting.
That was forty-five minutes ago.
Maeve’s been done with him for forty-five minutes. She hasn’t come out. Hasn’t asked for anything.
There’s been no proof of life. No proof she hasn’t shattered completely.
What has he said to her?
What did he do to upset her so?
Draven doesn’t answer Julian’s question. He’s braced against the wall, positioned so he can see her the second she steps into the corridor, like he’s holding the whole fucking place together by sheer will.
Arms crossed. Jaw locked. Eyes fixed on the door like staring hard enough might conjure her back into reality.
I don’t answer him either. It’s not my place. And honestly, I just want to demand the rights to do so myself.
Lucifer paces, muttering insults under his breath and snapping at us whenever we breathe wrong. My cousin is wrapped tighter than a vacuum-sealed parcel, and it’s showing in the way he moves back and forth like a caged animal.
He’s trying to pass it off as impatience, like he’s just annoyed she’s not back yet.
It’s bullshit.
I can smell the truth on him—on us all.
Fear.
Sharp and ugly beneath his usual chaos. It threads through the air, and my pegasus presses forward, alert and waiting for permission to move.
He wants me to do something. Anything.
The imp feeds on disorder. He thrives on it. But tonight, he’s the one bleeding energy into the room, and I hate the way it hits me—how easily I soak it up.
I rake my hands through my hair, tasting the sourness of unease in the air. It’s becoming unbearable.
We’re stuck in limbo, all of us pacing the edge of something we can’t see.
And I’m not the only one crawling out of my skin.
Julian clears his throat, the sound too loud in the quiet. “Or maybe we just leave her be for a bit. She could be asleep.”
And now he’s ruined it. I always knew I was the twin granted the superior brain cells.
“Asleep?” Lucifer snaps, the word coming out like a slur. “You really think Maeve’s asleep? That she’s had some awful news and thought, hey, let’s just get a nap in.”
He looks one second away from putting his fist through my brother’s face.
I feel the exact same way.
“She wouldn’t sleep without telling us,” Draven says flatly. “Not after this.”
Julian flinches.
Good. He should.
I shove away from the armchair, my knees cracking from how tightly I’ve been holding myself.
I hadn’t really been sitting—none of us had—but moving helps. Lets some of the urgency bleed into muscle instead of letting it chew holes through my skull.
“I’ll go.”
The abruptness in my cousin is feral. His black eyes snap to me like my offer is a personal affront.
I half expect him to laugh, half expect him to punch me in the gut.
Instead, he just stares—wound tight—like the idea of me taking action is a personal insult.
Draven’s gaze shifts, too, a dark heaviness taking over his expression. He doesn’t argue. Doesn’t step forward to offer himself up in exchange.
No, Draven’s already decided he doesn’t deserve to be the one she sees first.
In his mind, he’s not worthy enough to be the one to help her.
Julian exhales in relief.
That alone almost makes me want to snap his neck on principle. Weak fucking excuse for a man.
Lucifer’s mouth curls slowly. The kind of smirk that makes my hands itch. “You?”
I hold his stare, lips twitching. “Got a problem with that?”
“Several,” he says without blinking, like he’s been stockpiling his grievances with me for exactly this moment.
I have no doubt my cousin has been waiting for one of us to push him far enough that he can let the ugly out.
“Name them, then,” I drawl because if I don’t keep the bite in my voice, the worry will show. And I’m not giving anyone the satisfaction of watching me crack.
Lucifer’s smile is all teeth, and I know he’s winding me up on fucking purpose. “You’re loud and unrefined.”
I sneer. “I’m not going into her room to host a fucking dinner party.”
My pegasus whinnies inside me, ready for battle. Wings flaring, hooves scraping bone, demanding I take action rather than stand here trading barbs with a demon.
“She trusts me,” I snap, the words ripping out of me like they’ve been waiting their whole lives.
Lucifer’s brows lift, pleased. Bastard.
“You’ll fuck it up. You’re prickly,” he says mildly, folding his arms. “Not exactly known for your comforting bedside manner, are you? I’ve had softer headbutts.”
“What a shock that you’ve had numerous brain injuries, with how dumb you are,” I deadpan. “I know how to manage our girl. So, fuck off.”
“And,” he adds, stepping closer, voice dropping to something sharp and deliberate, “if she’s not okay… you’ll burn the world down instead of helping her survive it. You don’t have the restraint she needs right now, cousin.”
Arrogant, cocky son of a fucking cunt. How dare he imply I’m not good enough for her.
That I can’t restrain myself when it’s for her benefit.
My pegasus bucks inside my chest, and if I could shift, I’d prove exactly how much control I have by leaving him alive.
But shifting would only prove his point.
“Fuck you,” I bite back.
But it doesn’t land the way I want.
It comes out too raw. Too close to the truth.
Half venom.
Half prayer.
I’m as pathetic as Julian.
The room falls silent.
My anger spikes at the fact that none of these fucking cowards bother to say a word in my defence.
My twin—silent as a stone—and Draven, holding his tongue like he’s afraid opening his mouth will volunteer him as the emotional support animal.
Figures.
They’re waiting for me to either explode—and prove Luc right—or back down and withdraw.
I do neither.
Assholes.
All I want is Maeve—alive, furious, and here. I want her snapping at us, sneering about the shit hand she’s been dealt, occupying my line of sight so I can make sure nothing else touches her.
I step forward until Lucifer has to tilt his head back to keep eye contact, close enough that the air between us crackles.
My pegasus and his imp could never go at it, but I’d love to take a hit right about now.
“Cuz,” I say evenly, “the only stupid thing I’ve done tonight is sit here for forty-five minutes instead of checking on her sooner.”
Lucifer’s expression flickers—just for a heartbeat. Just long enough for the truth to slip through before he slams the mask back on.
Draven finally pushes off the wall, the movement controlled but predatory.
“Don’t go in there being an argumentative prick,” he says quietly. “No charging in like a stampede. Just… be gentle.”
It’s not a suggestion.
And, fuck me, if that doesn’t set my teeth on edge.
What does he take me for? Some brainless brute who needs a reminder not to kick the door in and roar at our anxious mate?
What a fucking joke.
Lucifer lifts his hands in mock surrender. “Fine. Mr Dark Horse can go, but if you fuck it up, Hades—”
“I care about her, too,” I cut in, clapping a hand to his shoulder hard enough to warn him. “But stop acting like I’m a dog, and you’re my fucking owner, or you’ll be the one getting stampeded.”
His grin widens. “You are as poncy as a therapy dog.”
Julian huffs a laugh, then instantly regrets it when I turn my glare on him. Unsurprisingly, he lowers his gaze and shuts the fuck up.
Draven’s stare cuts to Lucifer. “Don’t rile him up before he goes in there.”
Lucifer rolls his eyes. “I’m not riling him. I’m reminding him of how to do his job.”
I bare my teeth at him. “You should be grateful I’m going in at all. Otherwise, it’d be you—and considering you’re about as comforting as a cheese grater to the face—”
He laughs. “Bold words from someone who made Auntie Hel cry by telling her—”
“Enough.”
The word comes out sharp because I refuse to let him drag the past out into the open. Not now. Not when everything already feels like it’s cracking.
I’m not gentle. He’s right about that. I don’t have patience, or finesse, or a lifetime of soft practice.
But I learned early how to read a room for danger. How to step in front of it before it reaches the people I care about. How to make myself small when it keeps others safe and huge when something needs to be stopped.
My pegasus presses against my sternum, solid and steady. A reminder—a promise.
We’re one, and he loves her just as much as I do.
He’ll pull me back if I cross a line. He’ll anchor me if my control slips.
And right now, with the weight of everything bearing down, I need that more than I’ll ever admit.
I don’t wait for any more of Lucifer’s bullshit or Draven’s warnings.
I can’t.
I turn and stride down the hallway, footsteps silent against the hardwood.
The air thickens the farther I go—heavy with unspoken worry, like the place itself knows better than to breathe too loudly.
Maeve’s door sits at the end like a threat.
A line in the sand that feels forbidden to cross.
The closer I get, the sharper my instincts become, every sense tightening, every thought narrowing to a single point—her.
I lift my hand.
Then stop.
Do I knock? Do I just go in? Do I shove a fucking note under the door and pray she doesn’t rip my head off for it later?
“Stop being a pussy, Baby Cuz,” Lucifer yells down the hall.
I bare my teeth. I’m so tempted to shift into my pegasus form and steal my uncle’s move. I might not have the sharp horn, but my wings would do plenty of damage if I felt like clipping the imp’s mouth shut.