Chapter 134: Kidnapped
The heavy oak door clicked shut behind Dante, sealing Adam in the oppressive silence of the crimson-hued bedroom. The lingering scents of sweat, sex, and sandalwood felt suddenly cloying. Adam shivered, pulling the ruined silk sheet higher despite the Hellish warmth radiating from the stone walls. Stay. The command vibrated in his bones. He closed his eyes, replaying the brutal claiming, the possessive growl, the terrifying rightness of it. Exhaustion pulled at him.
Downstairs, in the vaulted study thick with the scent of old leather and brimstone, Dante found Kj pacing. The demon lieutenant was a compact storm of tension, his usual sardonic smirk absent, replaced by a deep furrow between his brows. He stopped as Dante entered, shadows clinging to him even in the firelight.
"Kj," Dante acknowledged, his voice still rough-edged from exertion, grabbing a decanter of dark liquor without offering any. He poured two fingers, the liquid catching the flames like trapped embers.
"Trouble, D," Kj stated flatly, skipping pleasantries. His eyes, dark chips of obsidian, tracked Dante’s movements. "Got a report from the Seventh Gate. Patrol found remnants. Angel remnants."
Dante paused, the glass halfway to his lips. "Remnants?" His voice dropped, dangerously calm.
"Charred feathers. Melted sigils. Smelled like ozone and sanctimony," Kj spat. "A small unit. Three, maybe four. Got deep, deep into the lower rings. Way deeper than they should have fucking managed." He ran a hand through his cropped hair. "Gone now. Reduced to ash by the border sentinels before they crossed the Styx. But…"
"But?" Dante prompted, the single word laced with ice.
Kj met his gaze directly. "But how? How’d they slip the wards unnoticed? How’d they navigate the rings without triggering every alarm between here and the Abyss? It stinks, Dante. Something’s wrong with the fucking perimeter. A hole. Or worse, a key."
A flicker passed behind Dante’s eyes. Not anger. Not yet. A sudden, cold intrusion. His pupils dilated, the rich brown swallowed whole by an unsettling, blinding white light that flashed for a fraction of a second – a silent, internal alarm klaxon no human could perceive.
Kj froze. "Dante?"
Dante didn’t hear him. The world narrowed to a pinpoint. The connection, the raw, primal tether he’d reforged with Adam mere minutes ago, snapped taut in his chest like a plucked wire… then went terrifyingly, utterly slack. Silent. Adam’s presence, the warm, grounding weight he’d just left tangled in his sheets, vanished. Not faded. Extinguished.
The crystal tumbler shattered in Dante’s fist, shards and dark liquor spraying across the Persian rug. Without a word, without a glance at Kj, Dante moved. He wasn't walking; he was a force of nature unleashed. Stone cracked under his boots as he tore through the mansion’s corridors, a dark blur scattering lesser demons who scrambled out of his path. Kj cursed and sprinted after him.
Dante hit the bedroom door like a battering ram. It exploded inward, splinters flying. The scene struck him like a physical blow.
The vast bed was a ruin of tangled crimson silk. But empty. Adam was gone.
The scent hit him next: beneath the fading musk of sex and sandalwood, the coppery tang of fresh blood. Dark, wet splatters marred the silk near the headboard. Not a lot, but enough. Too much. A single, deep impression on the pillow where a head had lain moments before. The lingering warmth of Adam’s body was already dissipating, replaced by a chilling void.
A sound ripped from Dante’s throat. Not a roar, not a scream. A guttural, inhuman vibration that shook the heavy drapes and made the eternal flames in the hearth gutter wildly. His control shattered.
Molten gold erupted in his eyes, consuming the brown, burning with infernal fury. His spine arched with a sickening crackle of bone and sinew. Twin spirals of obsidian horn tore through his temples, gleaming wickedly under the weak light, scraping the canopy above. From his shoulders, vast, membranous wings unfurled with a leathery snap, stretching nearly the width of the room, their shadows swallowing the light. The temperature in the room spiked dramatically, smelling of ozone and scorched stone. Power radiated from him in visible, heat-haze waves, distorting the air.
Kj skidded to a halt in the doorway, eyes wide, taking in the destruction, the blood, the terrifying figure of his Prince transformed. "Fuck," he breathed. "Adam?"
Dante turned. The molten gold eyes pinned Kj. A low, continuous growl rumbled from his chest, shaking the floor. The sheer, predatory fury in that gaze was paralyzing. "Gone." The word was a snarl, distorted, barely recognizable as human speech. "Taken."
Kj swallowed hard, forcing himself to step fully into the room, careful not to get too close to the radiating heat or the massive wings. His gaze swept the scene with practiced efficiency – the blood pattern (not arterial, likely a blow to the head), the lack of a forced entry besides Dante’s, the specific emptiness. "Right under our fucking noses," he muttered, fury sparking in his own eyes. He met Dante’s burning gaze again. "We’ll find him, D. Fast. Whoever did this… they left a trail. Cold wards, angel stink… it’s gotta be connected to that breach."
Dante’s wings flexed, the tips scraping stone. His head tilted, nostrils flaring as if scenting the air beyond the blood and sulfur. The molten fury in his eyes didn’t diminish, but a terrifying, focused intensity sharpened within it. The possessive rage didn't dissipate; it condensed, hardened into a weapon. He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. The promise of absolute, annihilating vengeance hung thick in the scorched air.
Kj nodded, understanding the silent command. "I’ll mobilize the Hunters. Track the signature. Find the leak." He turned to leave, then paused. "We will get him back, Dante."
Dante’s only response was a low, rumbling growl that vibrated through the stone walls, shaking dust from the high ceiling. His molten eyes remained fixed on the blood-stained silk, the phantom warmth of Adam’s body a searing brand against the sudden, unbearable cold. The King of Hell had been challenged in his own fortress. His prize stolen. The hunt, now, was all that mattered. Nothing would survive his wrath until Adam was back in his grasp.
The growl died abruptly, leaving only the crackle of the hearth and the heavy rasp of Dante’s breathing. Molten gold eyes scanned the room once more, not seeing the destruction, but tracing the invisible violation, the psychic scar left by Adam’s violent removal. His wings, vast and leathery, folded tight against his back with a sound like tearing parchment, the obsidian horns retracting slowly, painfully, leaving raw, bleeding points on his temples. The heat haze dissipated, replaced by a chilling void radiating from his core. Adam’s absence wasn't just physical; it was a sucking wound in the fabric of his reality.
Kj watched the terrifying metamorphosis reverse, the King of Hell forcibly reining in the primordial storm. "The breach report," Kj pressed, voice low and urgent, stepping carefully over splintered wood. "The timing… it’s no fucking coincidence. They used it. Used the hole they punched to get in, grab him, get out." He gestured sharply towards the bloodied silk. "Fast. Professional. Knew exactly where to hit."
Dante finally moved, a predator stalking the edge of its violated den. He crouched by the bed, fingertips brushing the dark stain on the pillowcase. They came away tacky. He lifted them to his nose, inhaling deeply – Adam’s unique scent, copper, and beneath it, the faint, acrid sting of celestial magic. Zadikiel. The name echoed in the silent chamber of his mind, colder than the deepest pit of Cocytus. His jaw clenched, a muscle ticking violently beneath the skin. "Find the trail," Dante commanded, his voice scraped raw, devoid of its usual Detroit cadence. It was the scrape of stone on bone. "Find it now. Every Hunter. Every Hound. Every fucking imp. Tear the Veil apart."
Kj nodded, already pulling a sleek obsidian comm device from his pocket, fingers flying over its surface. "On it. They won’t have gone far with him. Not yet." He paused, meeting Dante’s burning gaze. The fury hadn't lessened; it had merely banked, waiting to consume everything in its path. "We’ll bring him home, Dante."
Dante didn’t acknowledge the reassurance. His gaze remained fixed on the bloodstain, seeing only Adam’s face in the moment of impact, the betrayal, the terror. The silence stretched, thick with unspeakable violence. He rose, a dark monolith against the crimson ruin. "Go," he rasped. The single syllable held the weight of impending oblivion. Kj vanished into the corridor, the sound of his barked orders echoing back.
Alone amidst the wreckage of his sanctuary, Dante Morningstar closed his eyes. The connection was severed, but the echo of Adam’s scream, silent yet deafening, reverberated through the hollow spaces where his soul should have been. The hunt had begun. Hell itself would shudder before it ended.
The transition was brutal. One moment, the fading warmth of Dante’s sheets, the scent of sex and sandalwood thick in his nostrils. The next, blinding white light seared his retinas, followed instantly by a crushing cold that stole his breath and felt like knives scraping his bare skin. Adam gasped, the sound choked off as agony exploded through his skull – a sickening crack against unforgiving stone. He tasted blood, thick and metallic, flooding his mouth from a split lip. Disoriented, nauseous, he tried to push himself up, but his limbs felt leaden, unresponsive.
"Awake already? Tougher than you look, little pet." The voice was smooth, cultured, and utterly devoid of warmth. It echoed slightly in the vast, frigid space.
Adam blinked, vision swimming. He was naked, kneeling on a floor of seamless, ice-cold white marble that leached the heat from his bones. Chains, forged from shimmering, impossibly hard light, encircled his wrists and ankles, anchoring him firmly to the floor. They hummed faintly, vibrating with restrained power that made his teeth ache. He shivered violently, his breath misting in the freezing air. Above him towered Zadikiel.
The Dominion Angel was magnificent and terrifying. Clad in gleaming silver armor etched with intricate, shifting sigils that pulsed with faint light, he seemed carved from moonlight and malice. His wings, vast and feathered in purest white, were furled tightly behind him, radiating an aura of glacial authority. His face was classically beautiful, sculpted perfection marred only by the utter contempt in his pale blue eyes as he looked down at Adam. A thin, cruel smile touched his lips.
The cold marble leached the warmth from Adam’s bare knees, the chains humming with restrained celestial power that vibrated deep into his bones. Zadikiel’s pale eyes raked over him, taking in the fading bruises Dante had left, the dried blood smeared across his chin, the utter vulnerability of his nakedness chained on the sterile floor. That thin, cruel smile widened, revealing perfect, predatory teeth. "So," Zadikiel drawled, his cultured voice dripping with disdain, "this is what the First Man has been reduced to, huh?" He took a slow, deliberate step closer, the silver greaves of his armor clicking softly on the marble. "A little fucking pet for that fucking abomination? Licking the boots of Hell's bastard prince?"
Adam spat a glob of blood and phlegm onto the pristine white floor between Zadikiel’s feet. "Fuck you," he rasped, the words thick with pain and defiance. He lifted his chin, meeting the Dominion’s icy gaze head-on, refusing to flinch. The memory of Dante’s possessive heat, the raw power humming beneath his skin, was a shield against the angel’s glacial contempt.
Zadikiel moved faster than sight. One moment he was standing, the next Adam’s world exploded in white-hot agony as a gauntleted fist slammed into his ribs with brutal force. The crack was sickeningly loud in the vast chamber. Adam gasped, air driven from his lungs, a strangled cry tearing from his throat as he doubled over, the chains jerking taut, holding him upright only by sheer force. Fiery pain radiated from his shattered ribs, stealing his breath, making his vision swim. He tasted fresh blood, metallic and sharp.
"Angels and demons don’t mix, worm," Zadikiel hissed, leaning down, his breath chilling Adam’s sweat-dampened temple. His voice was low, venomous. "Fallen or not, consorting with that filth… you’re a fucking disappointment to Creation itself." He straightened, looking down at Adam’s hunched, trembling form with utter revulsion. "The progenitor of mankind, groveling for a demon’s cock. Pathetic."
Adam forced himself to straighten as much as the chains and agony allowed. Every breath was a knife twisting in his chest. He met Zadikiel’s furious gaze again, a feral grin spreading across his bloody lips. Pain was a familiar companion; he knew how to weaponize it. "You know what’s not a disappointment, though?" Adam coughed, wincing, but the grin remained, sharp and defiant. "That perfect fucking sex." He saw the flare of incandescent rage in Zadikiel’s eyes, the tightening of the angel’s jaw. He pushed, his voice dropping to a raw, intimate rasp. "Dante fucks like a god. Better than one. Makes you scream."
The blow came instantly, a backhanded strike with the armored fist that snapped Adam’s head sideways. Stars exploded behind his eyes, his vision blurring, the metallic taste flooding his mouth anew. Before he could recover, Zadikiel’s hand clamped onto his throat, lifting him partially off the floor by the neck. The chains dug savagely into his wrists and ankles. Adam choked, clawing instinctively at the unyielding metal gauntlet crushing his windpipe. Zadikiel’s face was inches from his, contorted with righteous fury. "Filthy whore," the angel spat. "You revel in your degradation." He slammed Adam back down onto the marble. Adam’s head cracked against the stone floor, darkness threatening to swallow him. He fought it, gasping for air as Zadikiel released his throat only to deliver a vicious kick to his already shattered ribs. Agony ripped through him, a white-hot nova that stole his voice, leaving him writhing silently against the cold stone, tears of pure pain streaking through the grime and blood on his face.
Zadikiel watched him suffer, a cold satisfaction settling over his features. He nudged Adam’s trembling leg with the toe of his armored boot. "Scream all you want, beast," he murmured, almost conversationally. "It’s music." He crouched beside Adam’s gasping form. "But don’t worry. Your suffering has purpose." He reached out, his cold fingers tracing a bloody path down Adam’s bruised cheekbone. Adam flinched violently, trying to pull away. "It’s ok," Zadikiel purred, his voice dripping with false sympathy. "You’re just bait. Bait for that piece of shit Morningstar." His fingers tightened, digging into the bruise. "He’ll come for his little pet. He won’t be able to help himself. And when he does…" Zadikiel’s smile was pure, glacial malice. "We’ll be waiting. We’ll carve him apart slowly. Make him watch you burn before we extinguish his pathetic spark."
Adam spat blood onto the gleaming armor plating Zadikiel’s thigh. "He’ll rip your fucking wings off," he choked out, each word a ragged gasp. "Shove them down your throat." The defiance was a flickering flame amidst the overwhelming pain. "You’re scared of him. That’s why you need tricks. Need me."
Zadikiel’s pale eyes flashed with fury. "Scared?" he scoffed, but the denial rang hollow. He grabbed a fistful of Adam’s hair, yanking his head back painfully. "I am Justice incarnate! He is vermin!" Adam laughed then, a wet, gurgling sound choked with blood and pain. It was pure mockery. Zadikiel roared, pure celestial light flaring around his clenched fist. He drove it down, not onto Adam’s ribs this time, but onto his bare thigh, the armored knuckles impacting with bone-crushing force. Adam screamed, a raw, animal sound ripped from his very core as muscle tore and bone fractured under the blow. Zadikiel hit him again. And again. On the other thigh. On his shoulder. Methodical. Brutal. Punishing the defiance, the laughter, the reminder of the demon prince who haunted him. "Scream for your master!" Zadikiel snarled, punctuating each word with another shattering blow. "Let him hear you beg!" Adam bit down on his tongue, choking back the screams, tasting more blood, his body a map of agony, consciousness fraying at the edges. He wouldn’t give Zadikiel that satisfaction. Not yet. He clung to the image of Dante’s molten gold eyes burning with fury, the promise of annihilation radiating from him in the ruined bedroom. He’d come. And Zadikiel had no idea what fury he’d unleashed. Adam focused on that burning promise, letting it anchor him against the angel’s relentless, sanctimonious wrath.