"My master! Thank you. I am not worthy—but I will prove myself."
The devil watched me with those eyes made of molten eternity.
"But," I continued, lifting my head slowly, eyes wild. "There is one thing I must ask of you."
The Devil tilted his head slightly. His massive wings curled behind him like the ruins of a fallen cathedral. "You would make demands of me?" he mused.
"No," I said firmly. "Only one... request. For the sake of the mission."
With his interest piqued, he took a step closer, and the ground beneath him trembled. "Speak."
I told the Devil that I needed his permission before I could fully leave my wheelchair for this mission to take shape. Not that I was itching to push myself out and show off my legs—I wasn't ready for that. Not yet. But a mission like this needed freedom, mobility, and a way to move without raising suspicion.
I couldn't exactly charm María José in my wheelchair and immobile state, could I? I needed an identity. This time, I would do it right.
