"Hey, you my cuz is back!!"

Twenty’s palm slammed into Damian’s with a sharp crack that echoed through the room. The two burst into laughter as they moved into the living room and dropped into their seats like men who had known each other long enough to forget pretense.

"Alright, this is where you tell me how you got married to three incredibly hot wives when we are yet to land one?" Twenty asked, grabbing the half-empty bottle of whiskey.

He slid his glass toward Damian and began pouring without waiting for permission.

"It’s not that difficult if you look this good..."

They both erupted into loud laughter, their voices filling the space with an ease that felt rare. In that moment, Damian did not feel distant or detached. Twenty was the only human who knew about his abilities, the only one he could speak to without measuring every word.

When he first started working with this man, everything had been calculated. Every move had been made with his own benefit in mind. He had even inserted clauses designed to crush Twenty if things ever turned sour, or if he decided to take everything for himself.

But things had changed.

Now that he understood how short his time on Earth truly was, he found himself valuing moments like this more than he expected. His life as a human had been brief and largely uneventful. He had not lived enough. Had not experienced enough. And now he stood on the edge of leaving it all behind.

Any fragment of humanity he could still grasp mattered.

This man was no longer someone he planned to use and discard.

He was becoming a friend.

"I see you... I see you..." Twenty laughed, watching him closely.

He leaned forward, flicked open a lighter, and held it steady as Damian placed a cigarette between his lips.

Damian leaned back in his chair and took a single drag, deep and controlled, burning through the cigarette in one pull as though it were nothing.

Twenty flinched as smoke poured from Damian’s nose in a heavy stream, too fast, too thick, like something unnatural was trying to escape his body.

It was a quiet reminder.

This man was not like them.

"What about your wound?" Twenty asked, his tone shifting slightly.

Damian lifted his shirt without hesitation, revealing a chest that was perfectly healed, smooth and unmarked, as if nothing had ever happened.

"Any news on the bastard who shot me?" Damian asked as he picked up the glass and took a slow sip of whiskey.

"His trail leads to Indiana. My boys are tearing that place apart as we speak. You’ll get something soon." Twenty thumped his chest with confidence, his voice carrying weight.

Damian extended his hand.

Pa!

"Thanks, man." He gripped it firmly.

"It’s nothing. Anyone who shoots one of my people might as well shoot all of us." Twenty’s eyes burned with a fierce, unfiltered loyalty.

They both leaned back into their seats again as Twenty pulled out another cigarette and placed it between his lips.

"I heard the councilman’s case got pushed back because you got shot..."

"Yeah. It gives me more time to build a stronger defense. Getting Councilman Delaney indebted to me is the foothold I need to start my political career."

Twenty nodded firmly, pulling the cigarette away from his lips as he exhaled a slow plume of smoke.

"You got it. You got it."

There was no doubt in his voice.

And for a moment, Damian allowed himself to enjoy that certainty. He already knew he could handle it, but hearing someone else believe it without hesitation carried a different kind of weight.

"So how is the church hunting going?" Damian asked, and a grin spread across Twenty’s face.

It was the kind of grin that had been waiting for its moment.

"BITCH!!! BRING THAT FILE ON THE COMPUTER AND YOU BETTER NOT WASTE MY TIME!"

Twenty’s voice exploded through the house without warning, sharp enough to startle anyone who was not used to him. Damian felt it, but only inwardly. His expression did not change, his demonic composure holding firm unless he chose otherwise.

"So... we all know building the church of your dreams will take time. Even finding land for it is already a hassle, so while we work on that, I found a few properties we can start with on the south side," Twenty continued, his tone snapping back into focus just as quickly.

Damian nodded in agreement. The last thing he needed was delay. Waiting months, or even a year, before laying the foundation was not an option. He needed the church active as soon as possible, either before or immediately after the Delaney case. Once that was done, he intended to step away from active legal work and move fully into politics. For that, he needed influence. He needed followers. He needed something that looked like faith but functioned like power.

Three seconds later, a black woman in a red wig descended the staircase, dressed in a black pant bra. Her proportions were exaggerated in a way that made the work obvious, her hips too full for her frame, her lips shaped unnaturally, her chest lifted and sculpted. Even from a distance, Damian could tell everything about her had been altered.

She froze halfway down the steps.

Her eyes widened the moment they landed on him, as if she had stumbled upon something unreal.

For a second, she looked like someone who had just found gold on their first try.

Her mouth parted slightly, her gaze locked in place, unwilling to move.

"BITCH!!! Ain’t no way you drooling over my brother!"

Twenty’s bark cut through the moment, sharp enough to almost pull a reaction out of Damian.

But even then, she did not move.

Her eyes stayed glued to him, as if looking away might cause him to disappear.

That only made Twenty angrier.

"Bet! Drop the God damn file on the table, get back up there, pack your things, and get the fuck out of my house."

This time, his voice carried no humor.