Reign had always known he wasn’t like the others.

From the moment he clawed himself into existence in a world that hated him, he carried a power too old to name, too dangerous to understand. Demons whispered titles he didn’t ask for. Angels hunted shadows they couldn’t catch. Humans feared stories about the Devil’s Son—but never knew they passed him on the street.

Reign grew tired of it all.

So he left. He disappeared from demon nests and sacred battlegrounds. He cloaked himself in humanity and drifted from place to place, nameless and unnoticed.

And then he found her.

She was arranging carnations in the window of a flower shop when he first saw her. Flora.

She wasn’t afraid of him. Maybe she should have been. But Reign kept his power hidden, tucked deep beneath skin and silence. Flora didn’t ask questions he couldn’t answer. She gave him names of flowers and cups of tea and space to be still.

He stayed.

Days turned into seasons. He built shelves and carried deliveries. She painted their mailbox red and laughed when he said it was too bright. He never told her what he was. She never asked why he woke up from dreams screaming in languages no one spoke anymore.

For a while, Reign believed peace might be possible. He never stopped feeling the storm beneath his skin—but she calmed it. She gave it a place to rest.

But the past has teeth.

Feral demons, drawn unknowingly by his presence, began creeping toward the edges of their quiet town. Reign tried to divert them. He killed in secret. Left bones deep in the forest. But the corruption spread. The Haven took notice.

And with them came the Divine.

Reign wasn’t there when it happened. He had left for a nearby town to secure a charm that might mask their aura better.

He returned to smoke and screams.

The town was ash. The garden was gone. And Flora—Flora was under the remains of their home, her body half-buried beneath scorched wood and white ash. A halo strike had torn through the shop like a blade through parchment. Reign knew the signature of such power. He’d felt it before.

He held her hand. He kissed her fingers. He didn’t scream. Not out loud.

But something inside him snapped.

He wandered for days, bloodstained and silent. Demons followed him, sensing the fury pouring off his skin. Some worshipped him. Some feared him. He ignored them all.

He returned to the ruins once—just once—to bury what he could find of her. He left her ring on a chain around his neck. It burned against his skin, but he refused to take it off.

That night, he made a vow.

He would destroy the Divine.

Not just kill her. No—that would be too kind. He would make her feel what he felt. He would take her heart apart.

It took him months to find her. She was radiant. Flawless. Everything the world wanted her to be.

And she was in love.

He watched from the shadows as she smiled—softly, privately—with Theo, her Adam. He brought her fruit. He brushed her hair behind her ear. He made her laugh.

That sound—laughter—punched through Reign’s ribs like a blade. She got to have this? After what she did? The fire in his chest returned. But it wasn’t wild now. It was focused.

So he stepped into the field.

And everything went to hell.