Chapter Nineteen

Chloe gathered Lucifer's head and shoulders onto her lap as best she could, encircling him in her protective embrace, as if that alone could ward off the shifting shadows on the walls. As if that alone could ward off Death Herself.

He'd been stable, up until the seizure. That was what did him in. It had drained the last of his reserves. Chloe should've tried harder to keep his fever down. She should've soaked his clothes earlier, no matter how miserable it made him. Sad puppy eyes be damned.

"I'm sorry, Lucifer." She half-choked the words, guilt hitching her chest. "I-I should've taken better care of you…"

Fresh blood oozed from the gash on his forehead. He must've hit it on one of those sharp bits of iron sticking out of the floor. Still cradling him with one arm, Chloe reached out for the first aid kit with the other. Water rippled as she slid the box toward her across the floor. Reflections of the ceiling lights danced and spun on the surface of the puddle, swirling together and then separating once more.

"You were right," Chloe said, tenderly wiping the blood away and patting his forehead dry. She gave a sad little laugh. "Kinda glad you're not awake to hear that."

"We never should've gone along with Bethany's plan. We should've kept trying to escape, like you wanted. W-we probably would've made it out by now…" Chloe's lips wobbled. She sniffled and smoothed a large Band-Aid over the wound. "And even if we didn't make it, I think fighting would've felt better, you know? Free will 'til the bitter end." She forced a smile through her tears. It quickly faded as dark blood began soaking through the bandage. "Oh, Lucifer…"

He made a small noise, like a hurt animal dying alone in the woods.

"Shhh, I'm right here," she assured him, her fingers combing tangles from his wet hair. His sporadic gasps were getting farther apart and shallower. She had to watch carefully to detect the movement of his ribcage. It wouldn't be long now. Minutes, at most.

Chloe just sat there, holding him and petting his head, barely even aware of the icy water soaking through her pants and underwear. Grief welled up inside her, spilling down her cheeks in hot trickles. It wasn't fair. She'd really believed they would win, in the end. With everything they'd been through, they deserved to win.

Lucifer had died and gone to Hell for her. Twice. She'd nearly died on multiple occasions. They'd broken each other's hearts, repeatedly. He'd gotten married. She'd almost gotten married—Chloe still shuddered at the thought of that mistake. They'd survived Malcolm, Lucifer's mother, the actual Cain from the Bible, and so much more.

And somehow, at the end of it all, she and Lucifer had found their way back to each other.

Of course, she'd always known the future between them was a big question mark. An immortal and a human, in love? One soul damned to Hell for all eternity and the other most likely headed for Heaven? In truth, they hadn't even gotten into all that heavy stuff yet. As Lucifer once pointed out, why focus on the end, when they were just at the beginning? They had a whole lifetime to enjoy together before their cruel, eternal separation. Or at least, they were supposed to.

Now, all she had left were fading dreams of what could've been. The house in Malibu they'd never move into. The driving lessons Lucifer would never give Trixie in his shiny Corvette. Lucifer waiting on the beach at sunset in the world's most expensive tuxedo, Amenadiel and Dan standing by his side, fulfilling their respective duties as "Best Man" and "Best Douche." Lucifer's eyes widening in awe at the sight of Chloe's dress…

A sob tore from Chloe's throat as she buried her face in his hair. Oh God, she would've married him. She would've married him…

She pulled back abruptly, her eyes full of fire and desperation as she looked pleadingly at the ceiling. "Help us, please."

Chloe wasn't even sure who she was talking to anymore—the kidnapper, or someone much higher up.

She waited, chest heaving, for some kind of answer. Any kind of answer. The only response that came was the faint buzzing of the bulbs overhead. And for one twisted minute, Chloe fully understood every ounce of Lucifer's rage toward his Father. It wasn't the booming, judge-y voice from above that Lucifer despised so much. It was the silence.

Chloe glared up at the cold lights, breathing hard. When she finally spoke, she did it very clearly, so there'd be no mistaking the words:

"Screw you."

And for the first time since she'd learned of the Almighty's existence, Chloe had no fear of the consequences.