Death is My BFFLAD Rewritten (Book 2 of the Rewritten Death Chronicles)

Chapter 45: Beast Mode

*crawls out from the grave wearing Gucci*

HALLO, MY CHILDREN! VELCOME TO CHAPTER VORTY-VIVE. MANGIAMO!!!!

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T-minus forty minutes remaining until Ahrimad's deadline.

I tugged on form-fitted black cargo pants and laced up my heavy-duty black boots. My first layer over my bra was a skin-tight black long-sleeved shirt with a heavy material that Romeo claimed was bullet proof. A discreet but rock-hard black armor vest covered most of my torso and chest, designed like a corset, but minus the suffocation factor. It zipped up the front instead of having complex laces. The jacket with a built-in hoodie thrown over the entire outfit felt like it was made with a neighboring material to leather. My gloves were simple and black with spikes on the knuckles and apparently Romeo had switched my pink backpack for a–wait for it–obsidian colored one. With high-tech glasses and a much sleeker helmet than the Tarnhelm that fit perfectly underneath the thin hood of the jacket, and my French braid laid over my one shoulder.

Damn, I thought, turning to look at my ass in the cargo pants in the mirror. I looked like a pretty badass bounty hunter, slash secret agent spy.

A firm knock on my guest room door sent my pulse rocketing. "Come in."

My stomach fluttered at the sight of Death entering the room. He shut the door behind him and locked it.

He wore a similar all-black clad outfit that he wore the other day, minus the cloak. His chest and a portion of his arms were covered in an armor chest piece strapped together with modest clasps and buckles that laced together down the front to his tampered waist. On top of his typical leather gloves, combat boots, and a black cowell hood, he also had bunched up black material around his neck that I imagined he'd pull over the lower portion of his face. Weapons were tucked into every strap of along his legs and waist, and he had two swords on either side of his hips.

His cold expression said it all. The moment Dunkin left Death's apartment, any inkling of humanity in vanished Death. His otherworldly side and fury took full precedence and he'd called back all of the Reapers for immediate action. Romeo arrived first my new gear. Without even exchanging a few words of what was going to happen next, Death had closed himself off in a room with his Reapers.

"Um," I said, feeling awkward. "Howdy."

He checked something on his phone and pulled open one of my dresser drawers, ignoring me.

"Looking for my underwear to steal?" I quipped, trying to deflect the negative vibes he was radiating from every deadly pore and the uncomfortable tension he'd carried into the room with him.

Death was all-business, still distracted, as he unsheathed one of his swords– the sword he'd given me, I realized– and inspected the blade, before stalking toward me. Even in all of the gear that made me a tad bulkier, I felt especially small in comparison to him as he towered over me.

"What's...up?" I asked, uneasily glancing at the sword. Considering his beast-side was trembling to unleash beneath his façade at all times lately, him holding a sword in front of me wasn't exactly comforting.

Death grabbed my belt in a large gloved hand and my breath stunted. I imagined one year ago, he would have picked me up and curled me upwards like a dumbbell on bicep day, just to bring me level to his fanged mouth and rip my throat out. Actually, he'd probably still do that. But surprisingly, he'd only clutched my belt for a second to adjust one of the straps and slide the sword into an empty sheath.