Eva

  As Eva slowly came to, the sterile scent of the hospital room assaulted her senses, transporting her back to memories of painful skin grafts and long recovery days. The beeping machines surrounding her bed seemed to grow louder, and the faint hum of conversation from the hallway created a muffled background noise. She tried to move, but a wave of nausea washed over her, forcing her to still, eyes closed, and focus on steadying her racing thoughts.

  The soft whisper of Dante's voice drew her attention; his words were indistinguishable, but his deep, soothing tone was unmistakable. She sensed him sitting beside her bed, his presence a comforting warmth she hadn't expected.

  Dante had repeated the mantra twice while she listened, but when he paused mid-sentence, his voice dropped to a gentle whisper, "I know you're awake, tesoruccia."

  His deep chuckle made her stomach flutter.

  Eva's dry lips curled into a weak smile as she opened her eyes to meet Dante's intense gaze. His white hair was mussed, and though his tone was feigning amusement, his eyes were fixed intently on her.

  "I wasn't spying, promise," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

  Dante's smile didn't quite reach his eyes as he placed a warm hand on hers.

  "Of course not," he whispered back, his voice low and husky.

  The monitor near her bed beeped faster, betraying her racing heart whenever he touched her.

  "How long have I been out?" she asked, her voice cracking.

  As she tried to pull her hand free to sit up, his grip tightened. It kept her in place and she wished the monitor wouldn't sound off every time she looked at his stupidly handsome face.

  Hopefully realizing her distress, he released her hand to grab a cup of water from the nearby table. Eva took advantage of the distance to calm her racing heart and to find the cord that was the culprit. Which was difficult, she was hooked up to so many all over.

  "You touch any of those," he stated stonily, nodding toward the monitors once he returned to pour her a cup, "I strap you down."

  The monitor beeped rapidly again, and Dante's smirk grew.

  "Now who's a masochist?" he teased, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

  Eva narrowed her gaze, matching his teasing tone. She took the cup from him, ignoring the electricity that pulsed through her when their hands touched.

  "A couple of days," he finally answered, returning to his seat beside her. "They had you pretty sedated for a while. After surgery, you apparently woke up swinging and swearing at the nurses."

  She didn't remember that. If she was being honest, a lot of her memory was blurry from the last few days. She thought maybe it was linked to her almost dying. That much she remembered.

  Dante's icy blue eyes, brimming with tears as he held her, still lingered behind her own eyes. She tried to push that image to the furthest regions of her mind, never wanting to see him so distraught again.

  The memory of the blade's sting made her hand instinctively go to the bandaged wound at her chest, a grimace crossing her face.

  "Eva," Dante whispered, concern etched in his voice.

  As she met his gaze, her heart skipped a beat.

  His eyes were like deep wells, filled with emotion and intensity. She felt a flutter in her chest as he reached out to gently brush a strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers lingered against her cheek, making her want to lean into his touch.

  "I'm so sorry," he whispered, his voice tinged with regret. His hand dropped, and both tightened into fists. "I should have gotten to you sooner."

  Eva's cheeks warmed at his touch, and she felt a sudden sense of comfort wash over her. It compelled her to reach out and cover her hand over his. He glanced down at their hands, and slowly, his grip eased as he gently intertwined their fingers.

  There was so much she wanted to say. She also had many questions about what happened that night, about Arcturus' claims about her family's heritage. But before she could form the question, a faint scent of rotten eggs wafted into the room, causing her nose to scrunch and her eyes to flick to the doorway, searching for the source.

  A man stood in the doorway, his tall, imposing figure clad in a tailored black suit that seemed to absorb the light around him. His piercing grey eyes gleamed with a cold, calculating intensity, and Eva wondered where she'd seen the sardonic smirk on his face before.

  "Ah, perfect timing," he drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I see you're still indulging in your... romantic entanglements."

  Eva's gaze drifted to Dante, her eyes locking onto his tense expression. The air was thick with unspoken words, and she could sense the tension between him and the man like a palpable force. Dante's face went through a series of emotions before settling on defensive, his irises humming from their cool grey to intense electric blue as he stood. His jaw clenched, and his hands returned to tight fists balled at his sides.

  "What are you doing here?" Dante asked, his voice low and even, his words laced with a subtle threat.

  Eva's eyes widened as she took in the similarities between Dante and the man: the same piercing eyes, the same sharp jawline, and despite his hair being deep black, it still held that same thick lushness. She tried to hold onto her tiny gasp but failed.

  Dante's father, Tartarus.

  Tartarus' expression remained calm, but a hint of amusement danced in his eyes.

  "Well, it's nice to see you, too, son. Not the family reunion you were hoping for, I'm sure." His voice was smooth as silk, but Eva detected a hint of underlying tension. "You've not left this room in two nights. I'm running out of patience."

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  Dante's anger and resentment simmered beneath the surface, his voice dripping with hostility. " are you here? A deadbeat father for nearly twenty years, and now you're interested in my life?"

  Tartarus' smile grew, and he leaned against the doorframe, his eyes glinting with amusement.

  "I've been in shadows," Tartarus said, his voice strained. "Watching as you've garnered a name for yourself. Gathered a... reputation in the Nether."

  Dante's eyes narrowed, and his face twisted in disgust. "You abandoned me. You have no idea what I've become."

  Tartarus chuckled, the sound sending a shiver down Eva's spine. His gaze flicked her way, and for a moment, she felt like an insect under a microscope. Then, his attention returned to Dante. "I see you're still drawn to those who are... vulnerable. A trait you get from your mother."

  Dante's eyes flashed with anger, and he took a step forward, his voice rising. "You killed her. You have no right to speak of her."

  Tartarus' expression remained calm. "She knew the risks. She was willing to take them to reveal the tyranny of her elders. To secure our legacy."

  "Fuck your legacy," Dante spat. "You used her."

  The muscles in his shoulders tensed, but Tartarus' next words brought him up short.

  "I loved your mother, Dante.” Tartarus' composure faded for only a moment as he sighed. “In my own way."

  The words hung in the air, and for a moment, Eva saw a glimmer of uncertainty in Dante's eyes.

  She watched his inky demon leak up his neck, the air around him pulsing with electricity.

  As Dante struggled to keep himself composed, Eva's hand found his, hoping to soothe him. His eyes shot open at the contact, but when she didn't recoil, his expression softened.

  "You don't know the meaning of that word," he said, his voice low and husky.

  Tartarus' gaze flicked to Eva, and he smiled, his eyes glinting with interest. "Are you not going to introduce me to the lovely creature who's piqued your interest?"

  Dante's response was immediate, the tone menacing. "You have no rights to any parts of my life."

  His father's smile returned, and he nodded. "Very well, then let's focus on your mistakes. I'm sure you're aware you've released a plague onto the Nether."

  "Of course, that's why you're here," Dante spat. "And why would I care about that?"

  Tartarus' smile grew, and he took a step closer to Dante who continued, "Maybe if you crawl back under your rock, it'll take Lilith another thirty years to unearth you."

  "She will come for you," he said, his voice dripping with menace. "To get to me. To exploit my weaknesses."

  Dante scoffed. "You have none."

  Tartarus chuckled, a dark, familiar sound. "We all have weaknesses, son." His gaze flicked to Eva, his expression unreadable.

  Again, Dante's reaction was immediate. He closed the distance between them, his fists clenched, as if ready to strike. Eva's heart skipped a beat as she watched, her fear for Dante's well-being growing. The air seemed to vibrate with tension as Dante's jaw clenched, and he turned to his father, his voice cold and detached.

  "What are you getting at?" he demanded, his words laced with a subtle threat.

  Tartarus smiled as if enjoying the confrontation.

  "Just offering my assistance," Tartarus said, his voice smooth. "Your shoulder, for instance. I can heal that wound for you. I won't make you ask."

  As he spoke, he reached out, but Dante's reaction was swift. He slapped his father's hand away, the sound echoing through the room.

  "I'm fine," Dante growled, his voice rough rather than indifferent. "I can heal on my own."

  Tartarus' gaze intensified as if sizing up Dante's reaction. For a moment, his smile faltered, and Eva saw a glimmer of something else. Concern, maybe, or frustration. But it was quickly replaced by his original sardonic mask as he took a step back.

  The silence between them was oppressive, heavy with unspoken words and unresolved conflicts. The air seemed to thicken, making it hard to breathe.

  "I created that blade from my core," Tartarus said finally. "It will take longer than any wound you've encountered."

  Dante raised an eyebrow, his smile returning as he took in his father's tightening grip on his long black cane.

  "I'm assuming at least that part of the Proxy's tale is true. Arcturus defeated you with your own sword, and you ran, tail tucked." His words were laced with mockery, and Tartarus' anger intensified.

  "I'm just trying to help," Tartarus' voice dripped with insincerity. "You know, for old times' sake."

  Dante's voice rose, his words tumbling out in a rush. "Help? You don't know the meaning of the word 'help'. You've never anyone but yourself."

  The intensity of Dante's emotions seemed to reverberate through her, and Eva felt a pang of sympathy in response to his anger and resentment.

  As Dante's anger boiled over, Tartarus' expression shifted, his gaze flicking to Eva with an unnerving intensity. His voice took on a taunting tone as if he was reveling in the tension between them.

  "History repeats itself, doesn't it, Dante?" Tartarus' words hung in the air like a challenge. "Make sure you can trust this little bird."

  "I am nothing like you." The words burst from Dante like venom.

  Tartarus chuckled and the sound made Eva tremble.

  "You have never spoken truer words." His eyes glinted with amusement before his expression turned serious. He leaned in, his voice taking on a warning tone. "Be wary of the Keepers, son. They are the keepers of not only our secrets but their own. She will have no choice but to choose them."

  "Leave,” Dante's expression turned cold as he growled out the word. "Now."

  Tartarus' smile grew, and he nodded once.

  "Very well. For now." He turned to leave, but not before casting a glance at Eva. "It was... enlightening to meet you, Miss Oswald. I'm sure we'll meet again. Soon."

  With a light tap of his cane, Tartarus' body disintegrated into a dark, electric mist that seemed to ripple and shimmer. The air around her prickled with static, and the smell of sulfur hung momentarily before fading, replaced by a soft crackling sound that seemed to resonate through the room before the smoke disappeared into thin air.

  As the tension dissipated with Tartarus' absence, Dante's expression eased, though only slightly. He turned to Eva, his eyes still flashing with anger.

  "Are you okay?" His voice was softer now, but his hands were still flexed into claws.

  Eva nodded, still trying to process the exchange she had just witnessed.

  "Yeah, I'm fine," she said. "What just happened?"

  Dante's expression turned grim. "My father. He's... complicated."

  Eva's eyes met Dante's, and she saw the depth of emotion there. She knew that this was more than just a simple family feud.

  She bit the inside of her cheek, wanting to push for answers, but the hurt in his grey eyes was returning.

  "I'm sorry," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

  His expression faltered, and he looked at her with a mixture of surprise and curiosity. "Why are you apologizing?"

  Eva took a deep breath and decided to be honest. "Your mom... I'm sorry. If you ever want to... talk? I'm here."

  Dante's intensity eased after a moment of silence, and she saw the corners of his mouth twitch into a small, pained smile.

  "That's a story for another day," he said.

  "So..." Eva's curiosity was piqued, and she bit at her bottom lip. "Does that mean you're going to stick around to tell me?"

  Dante's smirk reached his eyes, and he placed his hand on hers.

  "Well, I don't have much of a choice, do I?" He chuckled, low and husky. "Seeing as there's a homicidal, revenge-seeking demon God on the loose, hell-bent on destroying The Society and enslaving the human race. Your parents paid me to keep you safe."

  As he spoke, his eyes flicked behind her at the monitor beeping rapidly again.

  "So..." He mimicked her previous tone, his gaze setting her whole body on fire from the inside out. "I guess you're stuck with me, tesoruccia."

  Eva's heart pounded in her chest as she met his gaze. She was painfully aware of the warmth of his hand on hers, the intensity of his eyes, the devious smirk on his face.

  She enjoyed the game they played with each other's emotions, and it seemed he did, too.

  "Stop staring," she sneered teasingly, though she refused to take her hand away from his tender touch. "You're creeping me out, old man."

  Dante's smirk grew as he leaned in, his face so close to hers that the monitor's beeping became a frantic warning. His eyes sparkled with amusement as he whispered the words, his breath dancing across her lips without quite touching them, leaving her breathless.

  "Get used to it, sweetheart.”