Few minutes after Khaos left.
Lucifer poured whiskey into Kaelen's glass. The liquid caught the low light and held it. Kaelen's hand still trembled when he reached for it, but he didn't spill a drop. He had been alive long enough to learn that control mattered most when everything inside you wanted to fall apart.
The Remnant stayed in her booth. Her eyes hadn't left the spot where Silas had stood. The floor there was clean. Too clean. The kind of clean that made you wonder if anything had ever been there at all.
Across the room, the young werewolf had stopped crying. His face was pale under the dim lights and his hands gripped the edge of his table like it was the only thing keeping him upright. Beside him sat an older vampire, grey-haired and hollow-cheeked, who had been nursing the same drink for three hours. Neither of them had moved since Khaos walked out.
Lucifer dried another glass.
The silence stretched. Then broke.
"You."
