Eevee22444
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It had been a week—a full, grueling week—since the battle with the angels. Vox clenched his phone tightly, his grip almost cracking the screen. For a glorious, fleeting day, he had truly believed the Radio Demon was dead. It had been the best day in a long while.
Valentino had been in a good mood for once, the kind of rare mood where he wasn’t snapping at everyone in sight. That smug little do-gooder, Miss Bleeding Heart, had been devastated, her ambitious dreams for her ridiculous hotel crushed into dust. And best of all, Vox no longer had to worry about the tacky establishment actually gaining traction in Hell.
But, of course, it was too good to last. Everything came crashing down like a bad signal.
Vox’s jaw tightened as he stared at his phone screen, his rage bubbling under the surface. Posts about Lil Miss Morningstar’s hotel had started popping up, complete with pictures that set his circuits sparking in fury. Alastor was there. Alive. Smiling that smug, irritating smile of his as if nothing had ever happened.