Jennifer L. Armentrout - Every Last Breath

“Shortie,” Roth said.

I sighed. “Whatever. Let’s go.” Turning to Stacey, I walked over to gently pry the pillow she’d picked up again loose from her white-knuckle grip. “You okay to go out there?”

She blinked once and then twice. “What are my options? I stay in here while Roth torches the place? No, thank you.”

Good to see that even after the day we’d had, Stacey could still be a smart-ass.

Roth strode up to Cayman, placing his hand on the other demon’s shoulder. “I want you to keep an eye out, okay?”

The list of things that Cayman would be keeping an eye out for was astronomical.

“Word.” Cayman disappeared. Poof. Gone.

Shaking my head, I refocused on Stacey. Tears filled her eyes as she peered up at me through damp lashes. “Sam’s... He’s dead, isn’t he?”

I placed the pillow on the couch beside her and knelt down. A burning knot of emotion formed in the back of my throat. “Yeah. He is.”

She squeezed her eyes shut as a tremor rolled through her. “I remember you all talking about the...the Lilin and what it does to people. If Sam’s dead, then his soul...”

His soul was in Hell. I knew that. Stacey already knew that. Everyone in this room knew that, and there could be nothing more horrific than being trapped in Hell. He didn’t deserve all the horrifying things that happened to souls there.

Wrapping my hands around Stacey’s, I squeezed them tight. “I promise we will get Sam’s soul out of Hell. I promise.”

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