Ring, ring, ring.
Frank answered his phone.
"Excuse me, everyone. I need to take this."
His jovial expression vanished instantly. His posture straightened.
"Mr. Vlad. Good evening, sir."
On the other end, Loffy Vlad's voice was heavy with dread.
"Frank, do not land in New York. Redirect the plane to Dutchess County immediately."
"Sir? Has something happened? Flying to the County is... risky."
Dutchess County didn't exist on any public map, but it was the private name for the Vlad family's estate—a hidden fortress in upstate New York.
The mercenaries stopped laughing. They exchanged glances.
"The Vatican has been destroyed," Loffy said, his voice trembling.
"What?!"
Frank shot to his feet.
"We have a problem," Loffy continued. "A very big problem."
Frank hung up, his face pale. He turned to the mercenaries.
"Change of plans. We're in trouble."
"What do you mean, 'the Vatican has been destroyed'?" Inez demanded.
Agent X's face hardened. "If the Vatican is gone, we're all dead men walking."
"Mr. Vlad just told me the Vatican was attacked," Frank said quietly. "The details are unclear, but the news will break globally within the hour. We are now accomplices to the greatest act of terrorism in history."
Sandi slammed her glass down. "You said the Church was helping us! You said an Archbishop was in on the job! Now you're telling me God himself is going to hunt us down?"
"The target wasn't us," Frank said quickly. "It was the Chinese kid. He took the heat. If the Church wants revenge, they'll hunt him, not us."
Taskmaster spoke, his voice a low growl. "If the kid survived the Vatican's forces, he's not human. And if he finds out we used him as bait..."
"Then we go to the County," Frank interrupted. "The Vlad family will protect us."
"That kid has balls," Sandi muttered, grudging respect in her voice.
Rome.
The city exploded into chaos.
News vans raced toward Vatican City. Reporters screamed into microphones. Helicopters circled the frozen monument.
Natasha's Penthouse, Central Park.
Natasha lowered her legs from a perfect split, groaning.
"I don't know why you like that position so much. It's exhausting," she complained, shooting Vincent a glare.
Vincent grinned. "You're the one who suggested the view. The panorama of Central Park from a floor-to-ceiling window? How could I resist?"
Natasha rolled her eyes and limped toward the shower. "Next time, you do the splits."
"That's not your style," Vincent teased. "You're the Dragon Rider, remember?"
Natasha burst out laughing despite herself.
Vincent followed her into the bathroom. The water turned ice-cold as his powers activated, the shock waking them both up.
"This is incredible," Natasha sighed, letting the frigid water wash over her. Her muscles relaxed instantly.
"I have other tricks," Vincent whispered.
"Then show me, my knight."
"Wait—too cold! Vincent, that's going to freeze—"
Hours later, Natasha woke up to the smell of cooking. She was sore, exhausted, and wrapped in a bedsheet like a mummy.
She shuffled into the kitchen. Vincent was shirtless, humming a tune as he plated eggs and toast.
He was smiling. Not his usual smirk—this was genuine joy.
"Your knight has prepared breakfast, Princess," he said cheerfully.
Natasha went to freshen up. When she returned, she checked her phone.
47 Missed Calls.
Nick Fury. Phil Coulson. Clint Barton.
She stepped onto the balcony and called Fury back.
"Are you with Vincent Hall?" Fury's voice was grim.
"Yes. He's here."
"The Ice Demon attacked the Vatican. He killed the Paladins. He froze the entire city."
Natasha felt the world tilt. "When?"
"Last night. 3:00 AM, Rome time."
"That's impossible," Natasha said quickly. "Vincent was with me at 3:00 AM."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes." She wasn't lying. Vincent had called her at 3:11 AM. She always noted the time.
But something gnawed at her. Could he have teleported? Could he move that fast?
"Be careful, Romanoff," Fury warned. "The military will use this as an excuse to go after him. If he's innocent, protect him. If he's not... get out."
Natasha hung up.
She walked back to the table. Vincent was already seated, watching her.
"You want to ask if I did it," Vincent said calmly.
"Did you?" Natasha's voice was steady, but her hands trembled.
"Do you want the truth or a lie?"
"Is there a difference?"
Vincent leaned back. "They sent the Inquisition after me. I warned them. They didn't listen. So yes, Natasha. I froze the Vatican."
Natasha closed her eyes. Her chest tightened. "Why?"
"I could give you a hundred reasons," Vincent said softly. "But the truth is simpler. I wanted to. The Ice Demon isn't a nickname, Natasha. It's what I am. My power comes from desire—hunger, lust, fear. The darker I go, the stronger I become."
"Get out," Natasha whispered.
"You're in pain," Vincent said, standing. "More pain than when you first made our deal. That means you care about me. And I care about you. But I won't lie to you."
"Then honor our agreement," Natasha said coldly, forcing herself to meet his eyes. "The deal stands. When you need me, call. But right now... I need you to leave."
Vincent put on his jacket. "You asked if I came here last night to use you as an alibi."
"Didn't you?"
"No." Vincent smiled—a terrible, beautiful smile. "I don't need an alibi, Natasha. Freezing the Vatican wasn't a crime. It was a declaration of war against God."
He left.
Natasha stared at the untouched breakfast. Then she broke down, tears streaming down her face.
She had lost. In the game with the devil, she had bet her heart—and he had taken it.
System Update:
[Desire Points: 198,900,000]
Vincent checked his interface as he flew back to his villa.
Nearly 200 million.
The faithful were in agony. Their God had been humiliated. Their holy city was a frozen tomb. And the demon responsible had left his mark—a monstrous ice statue in the heart of St. Peter's Square.
The world was burning. And Vincent Hall was smiling.
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