Bile burned in Will's throat as the burns were revealed, the Devil's hand seared black into her flesh, like a brand.
"N-no," the word escaped his lips, the quaver in his voice impossible to hide. "Clio, Iā"
Lucifer had done it again. Left his mark on Clio, carved it deep enough to scar, so she could never, never forget the pain he'd brought her, or how easily he could bring it again.
And Will had watched. Useless. Cowardly. Pathetic. He'd let it happen to her.
Michael spread his wings ā great feathered things, of a white so stark and pure it seemed unreal ā and their angelic light shone cool and soothing over them both, but all Will could see were those burns, and the hurt he'd failed to prevent.