“I won’t say it again,” Michael said, cool as a cave, freezing. “This is an order from your chief prince.” He had never looked at Lucifer like that — never spoken to him like that. It was making the entire house swerve and topple in Lucifer’s mind until he saw nothing but whiteness, emptiness, confusion and terror, absolute terror. He wanted to reach for him, grab him, cry to him.
Lucifer, Angel of bpd.
