Chapter 9: Empty Bed
Dante woke to the cold emptiness of his bed, the sheets tangled and damp with sweat. His hand instinctively reached out, searching for the warmth of Dabi’s body, but found only the cool expanse of the mattress. He sat up abruptly, the room bathed in the pale, eerie light of dawn filtering through the heavy drapes. His chest tightened with a gnawing unease, something primal and instinctive clawing at the edges of his mind.
“Dabi?” he called, his voice rough from sleep, echoing through the vast, opulent bedroom. Silence answered him.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed, the marble floor cold beneath his bare feet. The mansion was quiet, unnaturally so, the kind of silence that pressed against his eardrums. Dante grabbed a pair of black sweatpants from the floor, tugging them on as he moved through the room, his senses heightened, searching for any sign of disturbance.
The bathroom was empty, the shower dry and untouched. Dante’s jaw clenched as he moved through the house, his footsteps muffled by the thick Persian rugs. The kitchen, the library, the sprawling living room – all empty. His unease grew with each passing moment, a low growl building in his chest. He reached out with his mind, trying to sense Dabi’s presence, but there was nothing. Just a void where the human’s energy should have been.
The sound of the front door opening snapped him out of his thoughts. He turned sharply, his eyes narrowing as Sapphire stepped inside, her platinum blonde hair catching the light, her crimson dress swaying with her movements. She paused, her sharp eyes taking in Dante’s tense posture, the barely restrained fury simmering beneath his skin.
“Morning, brother,” she drawled, her voice dripping with casual amusement. “You look like shit.”
“Dabi’s gone,” Dante said, cutting straight to the point, his voice low and dangerous.
Sapphire raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a sly smile. “The human? The one you’ve been fucking raw against every available surface in this house?” She sauntered closer, her heels clicking against the marble floor. “Maybe he got tired of your possessive ass and left.”
Dante’s eyes flashed, a flicker of crimson in the depths of his pupils. “He wouldn’t leave. Not like this.” His voice was a growl, the air around him thickening with the heat of his anger.
Sapphire’s smile faltered slightly, her gaze sharpening. “You’re serious.” She crossed her arms over her chest, her tone shifting to something more serious. “What do you think happened?”
Before Dante could answer, his vision blurred, the room around him dissolving into a swirl of shadows and light. He stumbled, bracing himself against the wall as the vision overtook him. He saw Dabi, chains binding his wrists and ankles, his body bruised and bloodied. The room was dark, damp, the air thick with the stench of sulfur and decay. A figure loomed over him, cloaked in shadows, but Dante recognized the aura immediately. Damien.
The vision snapped back as quickly as it had come, leaving Dante gasping, his chest heaving. Sapphire was at his side in an instant, her hand on his arm, steadying him.
“What the hell was that?” she demanded, her voice sharp with concern.
“Damien,” Dante ground out, his voice raw with fury. “He has him.”
Sapphire’s eyes widened, her grip tightening on his arm. “Fuck. That’s not good.”
“No shit,” Dante snarled, pushing past her, his mind racing. He couldn’t afford to waste time. Damien was dangerous, sadistic, and if he had Dabi, every second counted.
“What are you going to do?” Sapphire asked, following him as he strode towards the grand staircase.
“What do you think?” Dante shot back, his voice cold and sharp. “I’m going to get him back.”
Sapphire grabbed his arm, forcing him to stop and face her. “You don’t even know where he is. Damien’s not exactly easy to find.”
“I’ll find him,” Dante said, his eyes blazing with determination. “I’ll tear this fucking city apart if I have to.”
Sapphire studied him for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then she nodded, releasing his arm. “Fine. But you’re not doing this alone. I’m coming with you.”
Dante hesitated, then nodded curtly. “Let’s go.”
They moved quickly, Dante’s mind focused on one thing: finding Dabi. As they stepped outside, the cool morning air doing little to calm the fire raging within him, Dante felt the weight of his power stirring, the ancient, infernal energy that had lain dormant for too long. He would unleash it all if it meant getting Dabi back.
Sapphire slid into the driver’s seat of Dante’s sleek black car, the engine roaring to life as Dante got in beside her. She glanced at him, her hands tightening on the steering wheel. “Where to?”
Dante closed his eyes, reaching out with his senses, searching for the faintest trace of Dabi’s energy. It was faint, almost imperceptible, but it was there. A thread of light in the darkness.
“East,” he said, his voice low and certain. “He’s east of here.”
Sapphire nodded, pulling out of the driveway with a screech of tires. The car sped through the empty streets, the city still cloaked in the early morning haze. Dante’s mind raced, his thoughts consumed by visions of Dabi’s bruised and broken body, the chains binding him, the cold, dark room. He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms, drawing blood.
“We’ll get him back,” Sapphire said, her voice steady, cutting through the storm of his thoughts. “Damien’s not going to know what hit him.”
Dante didn’t respond, his gaze fixed on the road ahead. He would burn the world to the ground if it meant saving Dabi. And he wouldn’t stop until the human was safe in his arms again.
The car tore through the city’s arteries, engine snarling like a caged beast as Sapphire navigated the sleek machine eastward. Dante’s knuckles were bone-white on the dashboard, his gaze fixed on the shifting cityscape, but seeing only the fractured vision: Dabi, bound, bleeding, and the shadow of Damien. Every passing second felt like a physical wound. "Faster," he rasped, the single word thick with infernal heat.
Sapphire jammed the accelerator, the tires screaming around a corner. "Working on it," she muttered, her own expression grim. "Just find the fucking signal." She could feel the raw power radiating off Dante, a contained supernova threatening to detonate. The air inside the car crackled with it.
Dante closed his eyes again, reaching deep into the ancient wellspring of his being, pushing past the static of the city, the mundane hum of countless souls. He sought the unique, defiant spark that was Dabi. It was faint, distant, pulsing like a dying ember, but laced unmistakably with pain and fury. It tasted like ozone and copper. "Warehouse district," Dante ground out, his voice gravel. "Old docks. Near the sulfur pits." The scent of Hell clung to the location like a shroud.
Sapphire nodded sharply, wrenching the wheel. "Hold on." The car fishtailed onto a wider, decaying road lined with derelict buildings and rusting machinery. The air grew thicker, fouler, the tang of brine mixing unpleasantly with the distinct, acrid sting of distant, leaking infernal vents. Dante’s jaw tightened. This was Damien’s kind of place.
Dabi’s POV
Cold. Concrete biting into his bare back. The smell – damp mold, stagnant water, and that fucking sulfur Dante sometimes carried, but amplified, rotten. Dabi groaned, trying to move. Heavy iron shackles bit into his wrists and ankles, chains rattling as he tested them, bolted deep into the unforgiving floor. Panic, sharp and acidic, clawed up his throat. Where the fuck?
He remembered Dante’s bed, the warmth, the possessive weight of the demon’s arm around him as they slept. Then… nothing. A void. Drugged? Taken. Fury surged, momentarily eclipsing the fear. He strained against the chains, the metal grinding, but they held fast. The room was pitch black except for a sliver of sickly greenish light leaking under a heavy door. Distant drip, drip, drip of water echoed.
The door creaked open, flooding the small, cold cell with harsh light. Dabi squinted, raising a shackled hand. A figure filled the doorway, tall, immaculately dressed in a dark suit that seemed to drink the light. He stepped inside, the air instantly growing colder, thicker. Silver hair, sharp aristocratic features, eyes like chips of frozen obsidian. Power radiated off him, ancient and terrifying, making Dante’s aura feel like a warm campfire in comparison.
"Awake, little moth," the figure said, his voice smooth as poisoned honey, resonating with an authority that vibrated in Dabi’s bones. "Welcome to the less... hospitable side of the family holdings." He stopped a few feet away, looking down at Dabi with detached curiosity, like a scientist observing an insect.
Dabi glared back, refusing to flinch despite the primal terror trying to lock his muscles. "Lucifer, I presume? Dante’s deadbeat dad?" He spat the words, the coppery taste of blood in his mouth from a split lip he hadn't noticed. "Fancy digs. Bit drafty."
A flicker of surprise, then amusement, touched Lucifer’s cold eyes. "Direct. And insolent. I begin to see the crude appeal for my wayward son." He clasped his hands behind his back. "Such a waste, though. Dante Morningstar, King of Hell, squandering his eternity... inside a human." He practically sneered the last word. "Playing house. Leaving his duties. Abandoning his brothers to shoulder the infernal burden."
Dabi barked a harsh laugh, the sound raw in the cold air. "Abandoned you? Sounds like he fucking upgraded. Your management style sucks." He rattled the chains. "This the welcome wagon? Bit much for the boyfriend you don't approve of."
Lucifer’s amusement deepened, a chilling smile playing on his lips. "Ah, that smart-ass mouth. Yes, I see why he finds you… diverting. A spark in the mundane. Fleeting, of course." He took another step closer, the sheer pressure of his presence making it hard for Dabi to breathe. "He strayed from his path. Indulged a weakness. I intend to remind him of his true nature. And you, little spark, are the reminder."
"Go fuck yourself," Dabi snarled, pushing back against the crushing weight of Lucifer's aura. "You talk too much. Just like him, when he’s not busy fucking me senseless. All mouth."
Lucifer actually chuckled, a dry, rustling sound. "Defiant to the last. Have it your way. My son Damien will help you get… comfortable. He shares your appreciation for brevity." He turned towards the door. "Damien?"
Another figure stepped into the light. Tall, powerfully built, features that held a cruel, distorted echo of Dante’s handsome lines – sharper, meaner, devoid of the Detroit grit, replaced by pure malice. Eyes like burning coals in a face set in a permanent sneer. Dabi’s blood ran cold. Brothers. Damien. The stories Dante had muttered in the dark, fragmented and heavy with old pain, slammed into him.
Damien moved with predatory grace, circling Dabi chained on the floor. He stopped directly in front of him, crouching down, bringing his face level with Dabi’s. The stink of ash and hot metal rolled off him. "So," Damien breathed, his voice a low rasp like grinding stone. "You’re the human cunt my brother’s been slumming it with." A cruel smile split his face. "Heard you like to talk shit. Guess the apple doesn't fall far, huh?"
Dabi met his burning gaze, refusing to look away. "Shut the fuck up," he hissed, the fear turning into a hard knot of anger in his gut. "You all just love the sound of your own damn voices."
Damien’s laugh was short, brutal. "Spunky." His fist, moving faster than sight, slammed into Dabi's stomach like a piston. WHUMPF. All the air exploded from Dabi's lungs. He doubled over as far as the chains allowed, gagging, vision flashing white, pain radiating outwards in nauseating waves. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think, only choke on the agony.
"Don't worry," Damien purred, straightening up as Dabi gasped and shuddered. "Daddy dearest won't let me kill you. Needs you alive. Bait for the prodigal prince." He leaned down again, his hot breath washing over Dabi’s face. "But he never said I couldn't play." He pulled a blade from a sheath at his hip. It wasn't ornate; it was functional, wickedly sharp steel, about eight inches long, the edge gleaming dully in the low light.
Dabi’s eyes locked onto the blade, his breath still coming in ragged, painful hitches. Damien brought the flat of the blade against Dabi’s cheek. Cold. Then slowly, deliberately, he dragged the icy metal down Dabi’s neck, over his collarbone, and across his bare chest. Dabi flinched violently, a full-body shudder wracking him as the cold steel traced a path over his nipple, down his sternum, towards the waistband of his jeans. His skin puckered, terror warring with the instinct to remain still.
Damien smiled, a genuine, horrifying expression of anticipation. "This," he murmured, placing the razor-sharp tip just below Dabi’s collarbone, "is gonna be fun." He pressed down. Not a slash. A deliberate, controlled pressure. The skin dimpled, then parted. A bright line of crimson welled up instantly, beading along the steel. Dabi hissed, clenching his teeth against a cry as the burning sting lanced through him. Damien dragged the blade down, slowly, excruciatingly slowly, carving a shallow, burning line from collarbone to hipbone, just above the jeans. The cut sizzled with pain, blood trickling hotly down his side.
He lifted the blade, admiring the wet red line. Then he positioned it a finger’s width away from the first cut. "Let's make it deeper this time," he whispered. The pressure was immense. The blade sank in, biting deep into muscle. Dabi couldn't hold back the choked scream this time as Damien dragged it downwards again, slower still, the steel grating against his ribs, the agony a white-hot brand searing into his flesh. The blood flowed freely now, pooling beneath him on the cold concrete, its metallic tang thick in the air.
Damien pulled the blade free, dripping. He shifted position, kneeling beside Dabi’s legs. His burning eyes locked onto Dabi’s face, drinking in the pain, the defiance still flickering beneath the agony. He placed the blood-slicked tip high on Dabi’s inner thigh. Dabi tensed, every muscle screaming, watching in horrified fascination as Damien began to carve again.
The knifepoint kissed Dabi’s inner thigh, a cold, terrifying promise. Damien’s smile widened, revealing unnaturally sharp canines as he applied slow, deliberate pressure. Skin parted with a sickening snick, the sting immediate and white-hot, followed by the warm rush of blood snaking down Dabi’s leg. "Fuck!" Dabi gasped, arching against the chains, the agony a fresh brand searing his nerves. "God damn you!"
"God has nothing to do with this, flesh-sack," Damien rasped, his voice like gravel grinding on bone. He dragged the blade downwards, inch by excruciating inch, the steel grating against muscle fiber. The cut wasn’t deep enough to cripple, just deep enough to hurt, to bleed, to scar. The blood felt obscenely warm against his cold skin. Damien chuckled, a low, guttural sound devoid of humor. "My brother likes his art. I’m just… adding texture." He traced the path of the blood with a clawed fingertip, sending fresh jolts of pain through Dabi’s leg. "Bet he’ll enjoy licking these clean."
Dabi spat, the bloody phlegm landing on Damien’s immaculate black boot. "He’ll fucking end you," Dabi snarled, the words thick with pain and defiance. His vision swam, the cold concrete room tilting slightly. "Tear you apart piece by piece."
Damien’s burning eyes flared. He backhanded Dabi with brutal force. CRACK. Dabi’s head snapped sideways, stars exploding behind his eyelids, the metallic tang of blood flooding his mouth. "He had millennia to try," Damien sneered, grabbing a handful of Dabi’s hair, yanking his head back painfully. "Daddy’s favorite fuck-up. Too busy wallowing in self-pity and rutting with trash like you." He leaned close, his breath reeking of ash and ozone. "He’s pathetic. And you… you’re just leverage. Meat." He pressed the blood-slick blade flat against Dabi’s cheekbone. "Let’ How loud do you scream, I wonder? Before the fight bleeds out."
He traced the blade lower, scraping it deliberately over Dabi’s Adam’s apple, making him shiver violently. It continued down his sternum, reopening the shallow cut there, drawing a sharp hiss. Damien’s gaze lingered on Dabi’s jeans, the bulge beneath them. A cruel, speculative glint entered his burning eyes. "Maybe…" he murmured, the knifepoint hovering over the denim-clad cock, "…we see what’s got big brother so obsessed. Remove the distraction." He pressed the tip against the fabric, right over the head of Dabi’s cock. Dabi froze, terror locking his lungs, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. This fear was primal, suffocating.
The heavy cell door exploded inwards. Not opened. Exploded. Shards of reinforced steel and splintered wood blasted across the room like shrapnel. Dante stood framed in the ruined doorway, backlit by the corridor’s harsh light. Not the charming club owner. Not the possessive lover. This was the King of Hell unveiled. Wings, vast and leathery, stretched wide, scraping the ceiling. Horns, thick and obsidian-dark, spiraled from his temples. His eyes blazed pure, incandescent white fire, casting sharp, monstrous shadows on the walls. The air sizzled with raw, uncontrolled infernal heat, smelling of volcanic ash and scorched ozone. "Damien," Dante’s voice boomed, layered with ancient power and Detroit fury, shaking the very walls. "Get your fucking hands off him."
Damien spun, dropping Dabi’s hair, a snarl twisting his face. Surprise flickered for a millisecond before morphing into vicious glee. "Brother! Took you long enough." He didn’t move the knife from its position over Dabi’s cock. "Came for your broken toy?"
Dante didn’t speak. He moved. A blur of shadow and rage. One moment at the doorway, the next directly before Damien. Dante’s clawed hand shot out, lightning-fast, fingers locking around Damien’s wrist holding the knife. Bone crunched. Damien roared, more in fury than pain, his own burning eyes meeting Dante’s white inferno. Dante wrenched the knife hand violently sideways and down, slamming it, blade-first, into the concrete floor with inhuman force. The blade snapped with a sharp ping, the hilt vibrating in the cracked stone.
Sapphire materialized behind Dante, twin curved blades gleaming in her hands, her platinum hair whipping in the heated vortex radiating from Dante. "Playtime’s over, Damien," she hissed, her gaze flicking to Dabi’s bleeding, shackled form. "Get the human, D! I’ve got this asshole."
Dante released Damien’s broken wrist, shoving him hard towards Sapphire. Damien stumbled back, cursing, infernal energy crackling around his fists. He lunged at Sapphire, a blast of searing black fire erupting from his palms. Sapphire met it, twisting like smoke, her blades slicing through the etheric flames, the clash sending sparks showering across the filthy floor.
Dante dropped to his knees beside Dabi, the terrifying white fire in his eyes dimming slightly to a furious crimson glow as he took in the damage. The shallow, burning lines carved into his chest and thigh, the blood smeared across his skin, the bruise already darkening his jaw where Damien had struck him. A low, inhuman growl rumbled deep in Dante’s chest, vibrating the floor beneath them. "Dabi." His voice was rough, stripped of its booming power, thick with something raw. "Fuck. Look at you."
"Took you… long enough… asshole," Dabi managed, his voice a wrecked whisper, each breath sending fire through his bruised ribs. He tried to lift his shackled hand, but the effort was too much. "He… he was gonna…" He couldn’t say it, his gaze flicking down to the broken knife embedded near his hip.
"I know," Dante snarled, the crimson glow flaring again. He gripped the heavy iron shackles binding Dabi’s wrists. His obsidian claws scraped the metal. Tendons stood out on his neck. With a grunt of pure effort, he pulled. The thick iron links groaned, stretched, then snapped like cheap wire, the broken ends flying. He did the same to the the ankle shackles, the sound of rending metal lost in the cacophony of Sapphire and Damien’s brutal fight behind them – the clash of blades, guttural snarls, and the crackle of demonic energy.
Dabi’s arms dropped limply to his sides. He was free, but broken. Dante didn’t hesitate. He slid one powerful arm under Dabi’s back, the other under his knees, lifting him from the cold, blood-stained concrete with terrifying ease. Dabi cried out as the movement jarred his wounds, a fresh wave of agony washing over him. Dante cradled him against his chest, the heat radiating from the demon’s body a stark contrast to the cell’s chill. Dabi’s head lolled against Dante’s shoulder, the scent of oud wood, smoke, and pure, protective fury overwhelming the stench of sulfur and blood.
"I got you," Dante murmured, his voice low and fierce against Dabi’s sweat-drenched hair. His wings mantled protectively around them, blocking the chaos. "I got you, firecracker. Stay with me."
He rose, Dabi held securely against him. Sapphire was a whirlwind of blades and fury, keeping Damien occupied near the shattered doorway. Damien roared, trying to lunge past her, his broken wrist hanging uselessly, his other hand conjuring another gout of black flame. "He’s MINE, Dante!" Damien bellowed. "Father wants him broken! Come take him!"