I Wish We'd Met Before They Convinced You Life Is War

Veronica didn't realise it now, but she needed to 𝗸𝗶𝗹𝗹 Heather Chandler. The Demon Queen wouldn't simply back down because of a cup of juice, and certainly not one that made her sick. But if she went away, there would be no more threat or fear. All Heather Chandler had to offer was snarky remarks and degradation, the world would be better without her.

Yet as Veronica took the cup, she seemed to suspect something. She lifted the lid and checked inside, gasping as she saw the cerulean pond of fatality within.

"Were you going to kill her?" she asked in a hushed whisper, eyes darting to him as they filled with concern. He'd just discovered something good about the corrupt society they lived in, and couldn't lose her so soon.

"No, of course not," he lied smoothly, setting the cup back down on the counter, "I poured some before you told me not to, must've picked up the wrong cup." Whether she believed him or not was debatable, but his lies were easier to swallow than the reality of what lay in that drink.

"Alright, good." Veronica returned to the island and brought her own mixture into her hands, passing it to him. "Let's go."