The Cat's Den was closed for the day, the usually bustling casino and resort were eerily silent, a stark contrast to the chaos that had unfolded just hours earlier. Husker sat in the waiting room of the Hospital Wing, his posture rigid, eyes fixed on the ground. The place had never been so hectic, with numerous members of the security team being tended to after their battle with Valentino's forces. Fortunately, none of them were injured too badly; after all, Valentino had whores under his service, not soldiers.
The only ones in severe care were Angel, Cherri, Blitzo, and Arackniss. Husker knew he was needed at the casino, helping with the cleanup, securing his territory, and ensuring the newly transferred souls from Valentino assimilated properly. However, he couldn't bring himself to move from the waiting room. He needed to know that Angel was alive, that he had survived.
Rosie and Alastor had to return to their own territories to prevent any opportunistic attacks inspired by Valentino's downfall, and Husker understood their need to leave. Yet, their absence left him feeling isolated, compounded by the presence of Prince Stolas. The owl demon was sitting in the waiting room, a sobbing mess. His cries and anxious muttering only added to Husker's mounting anxiety, making the tense atmosphere even more unbearable.
Husker tried to be patient, but the uncertainty gnawed at him. He didn't know how much time had passed—minutes, hours, perhaps even a day. Time had become meaningless as he remained seated, his head resting on his clasped hands. His mind was a whirlwind of fear and hope, the waiting was an agonizing torture.
Every time a nurse or doctor walked by, Husker's heart would leap, only to sink again when they passed without stopping. His thoughts were consumed by Angel's face, the way he had looked up at him, eyes filled with pain but also a flicker of relief. The memory of Angel collapsing, blood pouring from his wounds, haunted Husker, fueling his determination to stay put until he knew for certain that his friend was safe.
Stolas, beside himself with worry, occasionally reached out to Husker, seeking some form of comfort. But Husker was too consumed by his own turmoil to offer much solace. The two demons sat in their shared misery, each lost in their thoughts and prayers.
In the oppressive silence of the waiting room, Husker's mind began to wander to dark places. What if Angel didn't make it? What if the doctors couldn't save him? Husker could imagine the worst scenarios, each one more harrowing than the last. He pictured the doctors emerging with solemn faces, shaking their heads, delivering the news that Angel hadn't survived. The thought sent a shiver down his spine, tightening his grip on the arms of his chair.
He thought of all the moments they'd shared—the laughter, the kisses, the conversations. The idea of losing Angel was unbearable, a wound that would never heal. Husker felt a deep ache in his chest, his breath catching in his throat as he fought back the rising tide of despair.
Stolas's sobs grew quieter, replaced by a hollow silence that seemed to stretch on forever. Husker closed his eyes, trying to focus on the rhythm of his own breathing, willing himself to remain calm. But the fear gnawed at him, relentless and unyielding.
Minutes felt like hours, hours felt like days. The waiting room seemed to close in around him, the walls pressing in, suffocating him with the weight of his anxiety. Every sound was amplified—the ticking of the clock, the distant murmur of voices, the soft rustle of Stolas's feathers as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
Husker's thoughts spiraled further into despair. What if Angel's injuries were too severe? What if he never woke up? The uncertainty was maddening, a cruel torment that left him feeling helpless and lost. He wanted to scream, to rage against the unfairness of it all, but he knew that wouldn't change anything. All he could do was wait.
He leaned forward, burying his face in his hands, trying to shut out the intrusive thoughts. He needed to be strong, for Angel, for himself, for everyone who depended on him. But the fear was always there, lurking just beneath the surface, threatening to consume him.
The minutes dragged on, each one an eternity. Husker's mind continued to race, filled with a thousand what-ifs. He thought of the future, of a world without Angel, and the pain that thought brought was almost too much to bear. But he couldn't give in to despair. He had to hold on to hope, no matter how faint it seemed.
Stolas's voice broke through the silence, a soft, trembling whisper. "Do you think they'll be okay?"
Husker looked up, meeting the owl demon's tear-filled eyes. He wanted to offer reassurance, to tell Stolas that everything would be fine. But he couldn't bring himself to lie. Instead, he reached out, placing a comforting hand on Stolas's shoulder, and simply said, "We have to believe they will be."
The hours ticked by, each one filled with agonizing uncertainty. Husker remained rooted to his seat, his body tense and his mind a whirlwind of fear and hope. He would stay as long as it took, waiting for any news, clinging to the hope that his friend would pull through. Until then, he would wait, and he would pray, and he would hope.
Then, the oppressive silence of the hospital wing was broken by the soft sound of footsteps approaching. He looked up to see Bianca, a rabbit-sinner soul contracted to him, standing before him with a concerned expression. Her tall ears twitched slightly, reflecting her unease.
"Husker," she began softly, her voice a gentle interruption to his turbulent thoughts. "I have some news."
Husker nodded at her, his eyes tired but attentive. "What is it, Bianca?"
Bianca took a deep breath before continuing. "Melora has taken some time off her sabbatical and come to The Cat's Den. She's overseeing everything."
Husker's confusion was evident as he furrowed his brow. "Melora?" he echoed, his voice tinged with surprise. "What's she doing here?"
"She heard about the attack and came back to help," Bianca explained. "She's taken control of the situation at the casino. With the way she's handling things, we should be able to reopen The Cat's Den by tomorrow."
A small, grateful smile tugged at the corners of Husker's mouth. Melora was always there to have his back, even when he least expected it. The weight on his shoulders felt a fraction lighter knowing she was in charge. "That's good to hear," he said, his voice softening. "Thank you, Bianca."
Bianca gave a slight bow. "Of course, Husker. I'll go back and help her with anything she needs."
"Please do," Husker replied, watching as Bianca turned and left, her presence a brief but welcome distraction from the agonizing wait.
Once she was gone, Husker leaned back in his chair, the temporary relief fading as his thoughts returned to Angel. The uncertainty was eating him alive. He had never felt so powerless, so utterly at the mercy of forces beyond his control. The irony of the whole situation made him chuckle humorlessly. Who would expect to find someone hoping and praying in Hell?
He closed his eyes and tried to steady his breathing, focusing on the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest. He could see Angel's face in his mind, the mischievous glint in his eyes, the way he'd laugh off danger with a casual shrug. The thought of losing him was unbearable. Husker had fought countless battles, faced enemies far more powerful than Valentino, but nothing had prepared him for this. The helplessness was a foreign and unwelcome feeling, gnawing at his insides.
Time dragged on, the minutes feeling like hours, each tick of the clock amplifying his anxiety. Every time the doors to the operating room swung open, his heart would leap into his throat, only to crash back down when it wasn't the news he was waiting for. Nurses and doctors moved past him in a blur, their expressions a mixture of urgency and exhaustion, but none stopped to speak with him.
Husker found himself muttering under his breath, words of encouragement, pleas for strength, anything to keep himself from drowning in despair. "You've got this, Angel," he whispered, his voice cracking. "Just hang on a little longer."
The hours seemed to stretch into eternity. He had to believe that Angel would be okay. He had to hold on to that hope, no matter how slim it seemed. Stolas's quiet sobs had subsided, replaced by a tense silence that wrapped around them both like a shroud. The owl demon sat a few seats away, his eyes red and puffy, his feathers ruffled and unkempt. Every now and then, he would glance at Husker, his expression mirroring the same fear and uncertainty.
Husker felt a pang of sympathy for Stolas. They were both caught in this terrible limbo, waiting for news that seemed like it would never come. He wanted to offer words of comfort but found that he had none to give. Instead, he simply nodded at Stolas, a silent gesture of solidarity in their shared pain.
As the minutes turned into hours, Husker remained rooted to his seat, his body tense, his mind a whirlwind of emotions. He had faced countless enemies, fought through countless battles, but nothing compared to the agony of this wait. But for now, all he could do was wait and hope. And so he did, clinging to the fragile thread of hope that somewhere, in that operating room, Angel was fighting with every ounce of his strength to stay alive. Until he knew for sure, Husker would not leave. He would wait, and he would pray, and he would hope, because that was all he could do.
As he waited, the silence in the waiting room was suffocating. Husker couldn't stand the oppressive quiet, the gnawing anxiety that threatened to swallow him whole. He looked over at Stolas, who was a mess of tears and feathers. The owl prince seemed just as lost and desperate as Husker felt. They needed a distraction, something to take their minds off the relentless worry.
Husker cleared his throat, breaking the silence. "Hey, Stolas," he started, his voice rough with fatigue. "How are you holding up?"
Stolas looked up, his eyes red and puffy. He offered a weak smile, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Not well, I'm afraid. It's... it's unbearable, this waiting."
Husker nodded, understanding completely. "Yeah, I know the feeling. It's like every second drags on forever."
Stolas sighed, glancing around the sterile waiting room. "We're supposed to be powerful, you know? I'm a prince, and you're an overlord. But here we are, feeling helpless."
"Yeah," Husker agreed. "Funny how that works, huh? We're supposed to have everything under control, but right now, we don't have a damn clue what's happening to the people we care about."
Stolas nodded, his expression pained. "I've always felt... lonely, even with all my power. Like there was a missing piece inside me."
Husker's gaze softened. "I know what you mean. Being in high positions, people think we have it all. But it can be so damn lonely."
Stolas glanced at Husker, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Then I met Blitzo. Everyone says he's beneath me, just an imp. But I don't care. I love him, Husker. I love him more than anything."
Husker smiled faintly. "I get that. When I first saw Angel, I was starstruck. Sure, I'd seen his billboards, knew what he looked like. But in person, there was this fire in him. It was more than just beauty. He was... he is incredible. I never believed in love at first sight, but now, here I am, spouting poetry about it."
Stolas chuckled, a hooting laugh that momentarily lit up the heavy atmosphere. "I understand completely. I've been obsessed with Blitzo since we were kids, you know. Saw him perform in the circus."
Husker blinked, turning to Stolas with incredulous surprise. "Blitzo was part of the circus? Is that where he gets all his chaotic energy from?"
Stolas laughed, nodding. "Yes, exactly. He's always been a whirlwind of chaos and charm."
They both laughed, the sound a brief reprieve from their anxiety. But as the laughter faded, the reality of their situation settled back in, the gloom creeping back into their hearts.
Stolas reached out, and Husker took his hand, the contact grounding them both in the midst of their shared turmoil. Stolas's voice broke as he confessed, "We've only been together for a couple of weeks. It's not enough time. We need more time."
Husker felt his own tears welling up, his heart aching for Stolas and himself. He squeezed Stolas's hand, his voice rough with emotion. "I know, Stolas. I know. I want more time with Angel too. It's not fair."
They sat in silence for a moment, their claws clasped together in a show of solidarity. Husker's mind was a whirlwind of anger and regret. He cursed Valentino for using an angelic weapon, for putting them in this unbearable situation. He wished he had made Valentino suffer more before ending his life. The moth bastard deserved every bit of pain and then some.
But those thoughts didn't change their current reality. All Husker could do was wait and hope. The irony wasn't lost on him—praying in Hell, hoping for a miracle in a place where such things were rare.
As the day slowly turned into night, the tension in the waiting room grew thicker, almost suffocating. The hours dragged on, each second a small eternity. Husker sat rigidly in his chair, the weight of his anxiety pressing heavily on his shoulders. He tried to distract himself, counting the tiles on the floor, memorizing the pattern of cracks on the ceiling, anything to keep his mind from spiraling into darker thoughts.
Finally, a doctor emerged from the operating room, looking exhausted but with a hint of relief in his eyes. "Cherri and Arackniss have made it through," he announced. "They're stable and awake."
Husker let out a shaky breath, feeling a rush of relief wash over him. He mustered a smile, though it felt hollow. "That's good news," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. But even as he said it, guilt gnawed at him. The relief for Cherri and Arackniss was soon overshadowed by the fear and uncertainty still surrounding Blitzo and Angel.
Another doctor approached, this time addressing Stolas. "We managed to stabilize Blitzo, but it was touch and go. His heart stopped during the surgery. We had to resuscitate him on the table. The surgery is still ongoing, and it's a delicate balance."
Stolas, who had been holding himself together by a thread, broke down completely. The prince's sobs were gut-wrenching, echoing through the sterile corridors of the hospital wing. Husker felt his own resolve crumbling. He wanted to comfort Stolas, to stay by his side, but he knew he couldn't bear it. If he stayed, he might break too, and he couldn't afford to break until he knew Angel was safe.
Husker stood up abruptly, muttering an apology to Stolas before leaving the waiting room. He needed to move, to do something, anything, to keep from falling apart. He made his way through the dimly lit corridors, his footsteps echoing in the quiet. The hospital wing had calmed down, most patients already discharged, leaving a stillness that contrasted sharply with the chaos in his mind.
When he reached Arackniss and Cherri's room, he paused for a moment before entering. The sight that greeted him made his heart clench. They looked so fragile, pale and barely able to stay awake. The anger he felt towards Valentino surged anew, a burning desire to revive the moth bastard just to kill him again.
Arackniss and Cherri managed weak smiles when they saw Husker, but their eyes were filled with concern. "How's Angel? And Blitzo?" Arackniss asked, his voice hoarse.
Husker hesitated, swallowing hard before answering. "Blitzo is still in surgery. It's... it's been tough. They had to resuscitate him. And Angel..." His voice trailed off, the words too painful to say. "We don't know yet. The surgery is still going."
Cherri's eyes filled with tears, her hands clenching the sheets tightly. "That bastard Valentino," she spat, her voice trembling with rage and pain.
Arackniss cursed under his breath, shaking his head. But there was a flicker of satisfaction when Husker added, "Valentino's dead. I made sure of it."
The news brought a brief, bloodthirsty smile to their faces, but it didn't last. The worry for their friends overshadowed everything else. Husker placed a comforting hand on Arackniss's shoulder. "Rest," he said firmly. "I'll send someone to update you the moment we know more about Blitzo and Angel."
Arackniss and Cherri nodded, their eyes heavy with exhaustion. Husker lingered for a moment, his gaze softening as he looked at them. "We're going to get through this," he said, more to himself than to them. "We have to."
Leaving the room, Husker felt the weight of his own words. He walked back to the waiting area, where Stolas was still quietly sobbing. Husker sat down, his own tears threatening to spill over. He clasped his claws together, leaning his head against them in a silent prayer. The irony wasn't lost on him, praying in Hell, but he didn't care. All that mattered was that Angel and Blitzo pulled through.
The hours dragged on, each minute feeling like an eternity. Husker's mind raced with possibilities, each more horrifying than the last. He imagined Angel's smile, his laugh, the way his eyes sparkled with mischief. The thought of losing him was unbearable. Husker clung to the hope that somewhere, in the chaos of the operating room, Angel was fighting just as hard to stay alive.
As night turned into the early hours of the morning, there was still no news. Husker remained in his seat, refusing to leave, his heart heavy with fear and hope. He knew he had to stay strong, to keep believing that they would get through this. Because the alternative was too painful to consider. So, he waited, praying for a miracle, for dawn to bring with it the news that Angel and Blitzo would be okay.
Fortunately, they didn't need to wait until dawn. Two hours later, the sound of footsteps approaching the waiting room jolted Husker and Stolas out of their anxious stupor. A team of doctors emerged, looking exhausted but relieved. Husker's heart pounded as he rose to his feet, eyes wide and desperate for news.
"Blitzo and Angel have both pulled through the surgery," one of the doctors announced, a tired smile on her face. "They're stable, but we'll need to monitor them overnight."
Husker almost collapsed in relief, feeling his knees go weak. He exchanged a look with Stolas, whose tear-streaked face mirrored his own mixture of exhaustion and overwhelming gratitude. Without wasting another second, they both rushed towards the private rooms where their lovers were being taken.
Husker's steps were hurried, his heart still racing as he made his way down the quiet corridors of the hospital wing. When he finally reached Angel's room, he hesitated for just a moment before pushing the door open. The sight of Angel lying in the hospital bed, pale but breathing, brought a fresh wave of tears to Husker's eyes.
He approached the bed slowly, almost afraid to touch Angel, as if he might break. But the steady rise and fall of Angel's chest reassured him. Husker sank into the chair beside the bed, his emotions finally breaking free. He clasped Angel's hand in his own, tears streaming down his face.
"Thank you," he whispered, looking up as if addressing some unseen force. "Thank you for letting him stay with me." His voice broke on the last word, and he leaned forward, resting his forehead against Angel's hand.
In another room, Stolas was experiencing his own wave of relief and gratitude. He entered Blitzo's room, his heart swelling with love and concern as he saw Blitzo lying there, alive and breathing. Stolas approached the bed, his eyes never leaving Blitzo's face. He sank into the chair beside the bed, reaching out to gently touch Blitzo's hand.
"Thank you," Stolas murmured, his voice trembling. "Thank you, moon and stars, for keeping him with me." He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to Blitzo's forehead, tears falling freely from his eyes.
Back in Angel's room, Husker couldn't take his eyes off Angel's face. He thought back to their first meeting, the moment he'd been captivated by Angel's beauty and fiery spirit. Despite everything, Angel had fought hard to stay alive, and Husker couldn't have been prouder. He whispered words of love and encouragement, hoping that somehow, Angel could hear him and find comfort in his presence.
Hours passed, but Husker didn't move from Angel's side. The hospital room was quiet, save for the soft beeping of the machines monitoring Angel's condition. Husker's thoughts were a whirlwind of emotions—relief, gratitude, fear, and love all mingling together. He couldn't help but think about how close he had come to losing Angel, and the thought made his heart ache.
As the night wore on, Husker's exhaustion finally caught up with him. He leaned back in the chair, still holding Angel's hand, and closed his eyes. His thoughts were still with Angel, but for the first time in hours, he allowed himself to rest, knowing that for now, Angel was safe.
In Blitzo's room, Stolas was having a similar experience. He watched over Blitzo with unwavering attention, his heart swelling with love and relief. Every now and then, he whispered words of love and reassurance, hoping that Blitzo could feel his presence and draw strength from it.
Eventually, exhaustion took its toll on Stolas as well. He leaned back in his chair, still holding Blitzo's hand, and closed his eyes. The night had been long and harrowing, but for the first time in what felt like forever, he allowed himself to relax, knowing that Blitzo was alive and on the road to recovery.
As the night slowly gave way to the first light of dawn, Husker and Stolas remained by their lovers' sides, their hearts filled with gratitude and love.