Lucifer's POV

The van cruised down the road to old-school rock music, narrowly avoiding the neglected potholes. 

Lucifer sat in the back with his jaw clenched tight and his fingers drumming on the top of his knees. The video clip of the mayor played on repeat in his head, and it was the main thing that kept his fury alive.

Sitting beside him, Angelo fidgeted nervously, hands twisting in his lap. "Where are we going?" he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

"Visiting a friend," Lucifer replied coolly.

"That can't be true." Angelo glanced around at the other SCR members who were with them. "Do you normally visit your friends with a gang of people?"

"Do you normally ask a million and one questions at a time?" Lucifer retorted, studying the way Angelo's eyes darted about anxiously. A smile tugged at his lips.

This was good, actually. Let him be afraid. Fear was the surest way to control a person, and Lucifer intended to keep Angelo on a tight leash until he got tired of him.

"You're not planning on killing anyone, are you?" Angelo continued.

"Not if they tell me something worth keeping them alive for," Lucifer said. "Now, enough with the fucking questions. It's annoying."

"I'll tell you what's annoying. This—" Angelo reached up to tug at the shock collar encircling his neck. "Is this necessary? I'm not stupid enough to run off. Where would I even go? I have no family, no friends..."

"Doesn't matter. I can't take you at your word. We still barely know each other." Lucifer pulled the remote control from his pocket and pressed a button. Angelo hollered as the electric current zapped his skin. "Just making sure it still works," Lucifer chuckled.

"I never should've left my damn room," Angelo mumbled, sinking down in his seat.

After taking a turn down a dirt road, the van eventually slowed to a stop outside of Andy Carmichael's house. He was the chief of police and someone Lucifer had kept in his back pocket for years. It made no sense why Andy didn't give Lucifer a heads-up about the mayor's plan, which was why Lucifer had decided to pay the old man a surprise visit.

He ordered a few men to stay with the van while he, Angelo, and Jameson went around the house to enter through the unlocked back door.

They found Andy in his kitchen rifling through a cabinet, a frozen dinner steaming on the counter. The old man barely had time to turn around before Lucifer was on him, shoving him against the counter.

"You got some explaining to do, Andy."

"M-Me? How about you? Why did you just break into my house?" Andy countered, but there was resignation in his blue eyes. He knew exactly why Lucifer was there.

"I'm asking the questions here," Lucifer snarled, snatching Andy up by the collar of his shirt. "Why didn't you tell me about the mayor's plan to wipe out all MCs? I had to find out from his fucking livestream."

"It's because I didn't know."

"Bullshit! I pay you good money for the inside scoop and to keep my men out of jail. I thought you and that asshole were close. You had to have known"

"We were close."

Past tense.

"Were?" Lucifer blinked, confused. "What the hell are you getting at, Andy?"

With a heavy sigh, Andy pried himself free of Lucifer's grip. He grabbed his food and then sat at the kitchen table, suddenly looking much older than his sixty-odd years. Stress could be to blame, along with being in an undercover partnership with a loose cannon like Lucifer.

"I didn't give you a heads-up because I don't work for the police department anymore," Andy explained. "John cut me off about three weeks ago when he found out about my arrangement with you and your club."

"Wait. So his plans for reelection..." Jameson started, stepping closer. "Are you implying you know nothing about them?"

Andy nodded. "Not a damn thing."

Lucifer stared at the man, momentarily speechless. His influence over the police, his best leverage against the other gangs, was officially gone.

The mayor was indeed making good on his threats about cleaning up the community, which meant things would only get worse from here.

"This is a goddamn mess!" Lucifer's hands tightened into fists, his nails digging into his palms. "When the fuck were you going to tell me that your ass got fired?"

Andy shrugged, mixing the corn into the mashed potatoes. "Eventually."

"Who's your replacement?" Jameson asked.

"A guy named Quinton Simpson. Your best bet is to cozy up to him like you did with me. But it'll be hard, considering John had a hand in getting him the job."

"Thanks for the information," Lucifer said, his tone deceptively calm. "Angelo?"

"Yes?"

Across the room, Angelo had watched the interaction warily, pressing himself against the wall as if trying to disappear.

"Close your eyes," Lucifer said.

Then, in one swift motion, he drew the knife he always carried and dragged it across Andy's throat.

Blood spurted and painted the table and white kitchen tiles a deep red. Andy's eyes widened in shock as he fell out on the floor clutching at the gaping wound until they dimmed within seconds as life fled his body.

"What! The! Fuck!?" Angelo cried out, but Lucifer barely reacted as he wiped his knife clean on Andy's shirt.

"You shouldn't have done that," Jameson said through gritted teeth, shoving Lucifer. "You just fucked us all!"

"Calm down," Lucifer muttered. He then spun around to face Angelo, who was having a full-blown meltdown. "That goes for you, too." He pointed the knife at him, expression blank. "You're going to alert the whole fucking neighborhood with all that noise."

Angelo straightened his spine and blinked through the tears as he clamped his mouth shut. 

Lucifer's gaze lingered on him for a moment longer before he finally turned and strode out of the house. His hands shook ever so slightly, the adrenaline coursing through his veins at an abnormal speed.

Jameson is right. You shouldn't have done that.

The cool evening air hit his flushed skin as he stepped out into the backyard. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. It didn't last long before Jameson burst out of the house and marched toward him.

"How many times do I have to beg you to think before you act?" Jameson shouted. "Jesus Christ, man. You just killed the ex-chief of police! Do you not understand how much heat this will bring on us?"

"Clean up the mess inside," Lucifer ordered the members who waited by the van. He then addressed Jameson. "The mayor tossed him aside, Jay. Plus, he had no family. Who's going to care that he's dead?"

"The fucking mayor will care once he realizes who's responsible," Jameson snapped, getting in Lucifer's face. "He's going to use this as ammo for his campaign. That's what you just fucking gave him—more ammo!"

With that, Jameson stormed back into the house, leaving Lucifer alone with his thoughts...

You fucked up. Again.

Why can't you do anything right?

You played right into John's hands.

The club is going to go down because of you.

"Fuck!" Lucifer cursed, banging both fists to his forehead because, once again, no lies were told.

Jameson spoke the truth like he always did. But it was too late to do anything about it now. Lucifer can't go back in time to undo what he'd done. He had no choice but to deal with the fallout, whatever it might be.

"Hey." Angelo joined him seconds later, still trembling like someone had dunked him in a pool of ice water. "I'd like to go back to the clubhouse now."

Not home. He specifically mentioned the clubhouse.

This was progress.

"Now you're learning." Lucifer smiled, his attention already shifting away from the crime scene he'd created. "Good boy." Still not thinking clearly, he reached out to ruffle Angelo's hair, but the boy flinched and took a step back.

A sting of rejection pierced through Lucifer's chest, followed swiftly by the irritation of even giving a fuck. He let his hand drop back to his side, shoving both in his pockets.

"Was that your first dead body?" Lucifer asked, deflecting his discomfort.

"No." Angelo swallowed hard. "I've been to funerals before. But it was the first murder I witnessed."

"As someone who works on the dark web, shouldn't you be used to seeing shit like that?" Lucifer chuckled, kicking at the dirt. "Andy was a piece of shit who locked innocent people up for the hell of it. You really shouldn't feel bad that he's gone."

"A piece of shit that you worked with," Angelo pointed out. "So what does that make you?"

"Careful, pet." Lucifer shot Angelo a warning look. "I worked with him to keep my men out of jail. Sometimes in life, we have to do things we don't like in order to survive. You of all people should know that."

"Does it ever get exhausting?"

"What?"

"Being you."

The question hit Lucifer like a punch to the gut.

It stirred up emotions he'd long suppressed—memories of his parents' brutal deaths and the trauma of their case being closed prematurely. He hadn't been truly happy since then. Even thunderstorms still set him on edge, another traumatic reminder of the night he'd lost everything. So, yes, it was exhausting being him.

"Are you hungry?" he asked, changing the subject. "I could use a bite to eat right about now."

"What the... You just killed a man and you're seriously standing here thinking about food?"

"I'm also thinking about keeping you from passing out. Reina told me you skipped breakfast and lunch. Why?"

"Because I wasn't hungry this morning. And I don't like fish." Angelo's stomach chose that moment to let out a loud growl, betraying his words. "Goddamn it," he whispered, crossing his arms over himself. "Ignore it."

"Not happening." Lucifer gestured toward one of the motorcycles parked in the driveway. "Come, pet. Let your master take care of you."

Angelo rolled his eyes but walked forward. "You're not my master."

Lucifer smirked. "We'll see how long it takes for you to change your mind about that."