Creed had been in and out of Hell for thousands of years, but usually of his own volition. The only time he’d needed help leaving was the last time, and never had he tried to enter without alerting anyone. He was the bastard son, feared by just about everyone, and with good cause. Now, he was taking in three beings who were so far removed from ones who should be there, most likely on a deadly mission, yet he truly gave less than no fucks. Yeah, he was a bastard. The only thing he cared about was finding Raina, and securing her safety. He’d then do his damndest to ensure the men with him made it out alive, if not a little worse for wear. He owed them at least that much.

​

“Alright, men. Don’t talk to the locals. Don’t eat the locals. Don’t let the locals eat you. Any questions?” Creed asked once their feet hit solid ground.

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Lucas raised his hand, but Kellen placed his palm over his face. “Shut it, or so help me I will not be responsible if only one of you are able to make babies in the future.”

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The man placed his hand over his dick. “I thought we were friends.”

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Kellen shrugged. “I haven’t killed you yet.”

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Damien looked up at the black sky. “Why?”

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Fed up, Creed began walking. “Try to keep up and shut up for the love of all.”

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Through his bond, he searched for traces of Raina. Damning the fact they were unable to exchange essence out of fear of what his blood would do to her. His mind reached for hers.