THIRD PERSON'S POV
Demon woke with a start, a dull ache throbbing at her temples. She reached up to massage her head, but her hand couldn’t move—it was firmly clasped by Venom, who had fallen asleep while sitting beside her.
She blinked at their entwined hands, a dark smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "What if someone attacks us? We’d both be dead because you decided to nap on the job," she whispered, her voice laced with a mocking edge, though she was careful not to wake him.
Venom’s head rested against the back of his chair, his breathing steady despite the exhaustion that was etched into his features. The dark circles under his eyes told a story of sleepless nights spent vigilantly guarding the gate of the White Monarchy. Demon remembered what one of her underlings had reported—Venom had stood watch for over a week without leaving his post, driven by an unspoken duty to protect her.
A low chuckle escaped her lips as she carefully disentangled her hand from his. His fingers, warm and strong, left a lingering sensation on her skin, a reminder of the rare moments of softness she allowed herself.
“Fool,” she murmured, her tone affectionate but tinged with her usual cynicism. Her gaze lingered on his face, taking in the lines of weariness that marred his otherwise sharp features. There was a twisted sweetness in knowing someone cared so deeply, even in this world where attachments were liabilities.
Her eyelids grew heavy once more, but this time, instead of resisting, she leaned into Venom’s warmth, resting her head on his shoulder. The weight of the world felt distant in that moment as she allowed herself to indulge in this fleeting comfort. With a contented sigh, she closed her eyes, letting sleep claim her again.
---
Demon woke again, but this time to an unnerving silence. The usual chaos of war—the distant echoes of gunfire, the muffled cries—was gone, replaced by a stillness that pressed down on her like a suffocating blanket. Panic surged through her veins as she sat up, her heart racing. Venom was gone, and bloodstains marred the ground where he had been.
“Venom? Venom, where the hell are you?” Her voice, usually so controlled, trembled as it pierced the silence. Her breath grew ragged, and her head throbbed violently, pain searing through her skull.
Before she could gather her thoughts, she felt herself collapsing. But just as her vision blurred, strong arms caught her, lifting her from the ground. Venom’s voice, laced with worry, cut through the fog in her mind.
“What the hell happened? You’re cold sweating.” His face hovered over hers, eyes filled with a concern that twisted something deep inside her—a feeling she couldn’t afford to name.
Demon pushed him away, regaining her composure, her expression hardening into the familiar mask she wore so well. “Have you noticed the surroundings?” she asked, her voice cool and devoid of the panic she had felt moments ago.
Venom handed her a canteen, his gaze scanning the darkened landscape. “The war’s supposed to be over. So why does it feel like something’s about to happen?”
They exchanged a glance, the weight of their shared unease hanging in the air.
“Any news from Uno?” Venom asked, his voice tense as his eyes searched the sky for Uno’s drone. But there was nothing—only the oppressive silence.
Demon sat down, her expression inscrutable, though the tension in her body betrayed her. “Uno hasn’t checked in for days. His drone should’ve been circling us, but it’s been silent.” A cold smirk twisted her lips as she added, “Maybe he thought he could defy me.”
