Chapter 3: Blood and Judgment

The green light crashed down. I scrambled for a white silk ribbon, tied it tight over my eyes—anything to block whatever was coming.

Unbelievable. This is just ridiculous!

All I wanted was to buy some wood—did I really have to end up in a demon love trap?

Right as I was about to break loose, a blade cut through the air and Michael’s voice growled right in my ear, full of irritation.

"Let her go."

My knees went weak with relief. Even after a century at Devil’s Drop, I’d heard the legends: Archangel Michael Carter, the best damn swordsman around.

Thanks to him, the angelic orders had kept the demon clan in check for a hundred years.

"Too late," Lucien sneered. "The love curse is complete."

"You’re playing with fire, buddy."

Michael’s tone was cool, but the sword energy rolling off him was enough to make the ground hum.

I heard the wet thud of blade meeting flesh and Lucien’s muffled groan.

"Fine, I’ll send you packing."

A blinding sword flash split the night, the ritual circle shattered, and the silk ribbon over my eyes was sliced clean off.

The force holding me vanished. My legs buckled, but before I could hit the ground, a strong arm caught me around the waist.

And just like that, I was staring up into Michael’s face.

The house was rebuilt, but now I was stuck with a love curse—my true heart hopelessly tangled up in Michael.

Honestly, compared to that demon Lucien, Michael didn’t seem so bad.